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diff --git a/16174-0.txt b/16174-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a1f821 --- /dev/null +++ b/16174-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9225 @@ + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GUN-BRAND *** + + + + +[Frontispiece: "The next instant his arms were pinioned +to his sides."] + + + + + + +The Gun-Brand + + +By JAMES B. HENDRYX + + + + + +AUTHOR OF + +"The Promise" Etc. + + + + +With Frontispiece in Colors + +By CLYDE FORSYTHE + + + + +A. L. BURT COMPANY + +Publishers New York + + +published by arrangement with G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1917 + +By + +JAMES B. HENDRYX + + + +Second Impression + + + + + + +The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE CALL OF THE RAW + II VERMILION SHOWS HIS HAND + III PIERRE LAPIERRE + IV CHLOE SECURES AN ALLY + V PLANS AND SPECIFICATIONS + VI BRUTE MACNAIR + VII THE MASTER MIND + VIII A SHOT IN THE NIGHT + IX ON SNARE LAKE + X AN INTERVIEW + XI BACK ON THE YELLOW KNIFE + XII A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT + XIII LAPIERRE RETURNS FROM THE SOUTH + XIV THE WHISKEY RUNNERS + XV "ARREST THAT MAN!" + XVI MACNAIR GOES TO JAIL + XVII A FRAME-UP + XVIII WHAT HAPPENED AT BROWN'S + XIX THE LOUCHOUX GIRL + XX ON THE TRAIL OF PIERRE LAPIERRE + XXI LAPIERRE PAYS A VISIT + XXII CHLOE WRITES A LETTER + XXIII THE WOLF-CRY! + XXIV THE BATTLE + XXV THE GUN-BRAND + + + + +THE GUN-BRAND + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CALL OF THE RAW + +Seated upon a thick, burlap-covered bale of freight--a "piece," in the +parlance of the North--Chloe Elliston idly watched the loading of the +scows. The operation was not new to her; a dozen times within the +month since the outfit had swung out from Athabasca Landing she had +watched from the muddy bank while the half-breeds and Indians unloaded +the big scows, ran them light through whirling rock-ribbed rapids, +carried the innumerable pieces of freight upon their shoulders across +portages made all but impassable by scrub timber, oozy muskeg, and low +sand-mountains, loaded the scows again at the foot of the rapid and +steered them through devious and dangerous miles of swift-moving +white-water, to the head of the next rapid. + +They are patient men--these water freighters of the far North. For +more than two centuries and a quarter they have sweated the wilderness +freight across these same portages. And they are sober men--when +civilization is behind them--far behind. + +Close beside Chloe Elliston, upon the same piece, Harriet Penny, of +vague age, and vaguer purpose, also watched the loading of the scows. +Harriet Penny was Chloe Elliston's one concession to convention--excess +baggage, beyond the outposts, being a creature of fear. Upon another +piece, Big Lena, the gigantic Swedish Amazon who, in the capacity of +general factotum, had accompanied Chloe Elliston over half the world, +stared stolidly at the river. + +Having arrived at Athabasca Landing four days after the departure of +the Hudson Bay Company's annual brigade, Chloe had engaged +transportation into the North in the scows of an independent. And, +when he heard of this, the old factor at the post shook his head +dubiously, but when the girl pressed him for the reason, he shrugged +and remained silent. Only when the outfit was loaded did the old man +whisper one sentence: + +"Beware o' Pierre Lapierre." + +Again Chloe questioned him, and again he remained silent. So, as the +days passed upon the river trail, the name of Pierre Lapierre was all +but forgotten in the menace of rapids and the monotony of portages. +And now the last of the great rapids had been run--the rapid of the +Slave--and the scows were almost loaded. + +Vermilion, the boss scowman, stood upon the running-board of the +leading scow and directed the stowing of the freight. He was a +picturesque figure--Vermilion. A squat, thick half-breed, with eyes +set wide apart beneath a low forehead bound tightly around with a +handkerchief of flaming silk. + +A heavy-eyed Indian, moving ponderously up the rough plank with a piece +balanced upon his shoulders, missed his footing and fell with a loud +splash into the water. The Indian scrambled clumsily ashore, and the +piece was rescued, but not before a perfect torrent of +French-English-Indian profanity had poured from the lips of the +ever-versatile Vermilion. Harriet Penny shrank against the younger +woman and shuddered. + +"Oh!" she gasped, "he's swearing!" + +"No!" exclaimed Chloe, in feigned surprise. "Why, I believe he is!" + +Miss Penny flushed. "But, it is terrible! Just listen!" + +"For Heaven's sake, Hat! If you don't like it, why do you listen?" + +"But he ought to be stopped. I am sure the poor Indian did not _try_ +to fall in the river." + +Chloe made a gesture of impatience. "Very well, Hat; just look up the +ordinance against swearing on Slave River, and report him to Ottawa." + +"But I'm afraid! He--the Hudson Bay Company's man--told us not to +come." + +Chloe straightened up with a jerk. "See here, Hat Penny! Stop your +snivelling! What do you expect from rivermen? Haven't the seven +hundred miles of water trail taught you _anything_? And, as for being +afraid--I don't care _who_ told us not to come! I'm an Elliston, and +I'll go whereever I want to go! This isn't a pleasure trip. I came up +here for a purpose. Do you think I'm going to be scared out by the +first old man that wags his head and shrugs his shoulders? Or by any +other man! Or by any swearing that I can't understand, or any that I +can, either, for that matter! Come on, they're waiting for this bale." + +Chloe Elliston's presence in the far outlands was the culmination of an +ideal, spurred by dissuasion and antagonism into a determination, and +developed by longing into an obsession. Since infancy the girl had +been left much to her own devices. Environment, and the prescribed +course at an expensive school, should have made her pretty much what +other girls are, and an able satellite to her mother, who managed to +remain one of the busiest women of the Western metropolis--doing +absolutely nothing--but, doing it with _eclat_. + +The girl's father, Blair Elliston, from his desk in a luxurious office +suite, presided over the destiny of the Elliston fleet of yellow-stack +tramps that poked their noses into queer ports and put to sea with +queer cargoes--cargoes that smelled sweet and spicy, with the spice of +the far South Seas. Office sailor though he was, Blair Elliston +commanded the respect of even the roughest of his polyglot crews--a +respect not wholly uncommingled with fear. + +For this man was the son of old "Tiger" Elliston, founder of the fleet. +The man who, shoulder to shoulder with Brooke, the elder, put the fear +of God in the hearts of the pirates, and swept wide trade-lanes among +the islands of terror-infested Malaysia. And through Chloe Elliston's +veins coursed the blood of her world-roving ancestor. Her most +treasured possession was a blackened and scarred oil portrait of the +old sea-trader and adventurer, which always lay swathed in many +wrappings in the bottom of her favourite trunk. + +In her heart she loved and admired this grandfather, with a love and +admiration that bordered upon idolatry. She loved the lean, hard +features, and the cold, rapier-blade eyes. She loved the name men +called him; Tiger Elliston, an earned name--that. The name of a man +who, by his might and the strength and mastery of him, had won his +place in the world of the men who dare. + +Since babyhood she had listened with awe to tales of him; and the +red-letter days of her childhood's calendar were the days upon which +her father would take her down to the docks, past great windowless +warehouses of concrete and sheet-iron, where big glossy horses stood +harnessed to high-piled trucks--past great tiers of bales and boxes +between which trotted hurrying, sweating men--past the clang and clash +of iron truck wheels, the rattle of chains, the shriek of pulleys, and +the loud-bawled orders in strange tongues. Until, at last, they would +come to the great dingy hulk of the ship and walk up the gangway and +onto the deck, where funny yellow and brown men, with their hair +braided into curious pigtails, worked with ropes and tackles and called +to other funny men with bright-coloured ribbons braided into their +beards. + +Almost as she learned to walk she learned to pick out the yellow stacks +of "papa's boats," learned their names, and the names of their +captains, the bronzed, bearded men who would take her in their laps, +holding her very awkwardly and very, very carefully, as if she were +something that would break, and tell her stories in deep, rumbly +voices. And nearly always they were stories of the Tiger--"yer +gran'pap, leetle missey," they would say. And then, by palms, and +pearls, and the fires of blazing mountains, they would swear "He wor a +man!" + +To the helpless horror of her mother, the genuine wonder of her many +friends, and the ill-veiled amusement and approval of her father, a +month after the doors of her _alma mater_ closed behind her, she took +passage on the _Cora Blair_, the oldest and most disreputable-looking +yellow stack of them all, and hied her for a year's sojourn among the +spicy lotus-ports of the dreamy Southern Ocean--there to hear at first +hand from the men who knew him, further deeds of Tiger Elliston. + +To her, on board the battered tramp, came gladly the men of power--the +men whose spoken word in their polyglot domains was more feared and +heeded than decrees of emperors or edicts of kings. And there, in the +time-blackened cabin that had once been _his_ cabin, these men talked +and the girl listened while her eyes glowed with pride as they +recounted the exploits of Tiger Elliston. And, as they talked, the +hearts of these men warmed, and the years rolled backward, and they +swore weird oaths, and hammered the thick planks of the chart-table +with bangs of approving fists, and invoked the blessings of strange +gods upon the soul of the Tiger--and their curses upon the souls of his +enemies. + +Nor were these men slow to return hospitality, and Chloe Elliston was +entertained royally in halls of lavish splendour, and plied with costly +gifts and rare. And honoured by the men, and the sons and daughters of +men who had fought side by side with the Tiger in the days when the +yellow sands ran red, and tall masts and white sails rose like clouds +from the blue fog of the cannon-crashing powder-smoke. + +So, from the lips of governors and potentates, native princes and +rajahs, the girl learned of the deeds of her grandsire, and in their +eyes she read approval, and respect, and reverence even greater than +her own--for these were the men who knew him. But, not alone from the +mighty did she learn. For, over rice-cakes and _poi_, in the thatched +hovels of Malays, Kayans, and savage Dyaks, she heard the tale from the +lips of the vanquished men--men who still hated, yet always respected, +the reddened sword of the Tiger. + +The year Chloe Elliston spent among the copra-ports of the South Seas +was the shaping year of her destiny. Never again were the standards of +her compeers to be her standards--never again the measure of the world +of convention to be her measure. For, in her heart the awakened spirit +of Tiger Elliston burned and seared like a living flame, calling for +other wilds to conquer, other savages to subdue--to crush down, if need +be, that it might build up into the very civilization of which the +unconquerable spirit is the forerunner, yet which, in realization, +palls and deadens it to extinction. + +For social triumphs the girl cared nothing. The heart of her felt the +irresistible call of the raw. She returned to the land of her birth +and deliberately, determinedly, in the face of opposition, ridicule, +advice, and command--as Tiger Elliston, himself, would have done--she +cast about until she found the raw, upon the rim of the Arctic. And, +with the avowed purpose of carrying education and civilization to the +Indians of the far North, turned her back upon the world-fashionable, +and without fanfare or trumpetry, headed into the land of primal things. + +When the three women had taken their places in the head scow, Vermilion +gave the order to shove off, and with the swarthy crew straining at the +rude sweeps, the heavy scows threaded their way into the North. + +Once through the swift water at the tail of Slave Rapids, the four +scows drifted lazily down the river. The scowmen distributed +themselves among the pieces in more or less comfortable attitudes and +slept. In the head scow only the boss and the three women remained +awake. + +"Who is Pierre Lapierre?" Chloe asked suddenly. + +The man darted her a searching glance and shrugged. "Pierre Lapierre, +she free-trader," he answered. "Dees scow, she Pierre Lapierre scow." + +If Chloe was surprised at this bit of information, she succeeded +admirably in disguising her feelings. Not so Harriet Penny, who sank +back among the freight pieces to stare fearfully into the face of the +younger woman. + +"Then you are Pierre Lapierre's man? You work for him?" + +The man nodded. "On de reevaire I'm run de scow--me--Vermilion! I'm +tak' de reesk. Lapierre, she tak' de money." The man's eyes glinted +wickedly. + +"Risk? What risk?" asked the girl. + +Again the man eyed her shrewdly and laughed. "Das plent' reesk--on de +reevaire. De scow--me'be so, she heet de rock in de rapids--bre'k all +to hell--_Voila_!" Somehow the words did not ring true. + +"You hate Lapierre!" The words flashed swift, taking the man by +surprise. + +"_Non_! _Non_!" he cried, and Chloe noticed that his glance flashed +swiftly over the sprawling forms of the five sleeping scowmen. + +"And you are afraid of him," the girl added before he could frame a +reply. + +A sudden gleam of anger leaped into the eyes of the half-breed. He +seemed on the point of speaking, but with an unintelligible muttered +imprecation he relapsed into sullen silence. Chloe had purposely +baited the man, hoping in his anger he would blurt out some bit of +information concerning the mysterious Pierre Lapierre. Instead, the +man crouched silent, scowling, with his gaze fixed upon the forms of +the scowmen. + +Had the girl been more familiar with the French half-breeds of the +outlands she would have been suspicious of the man's sudden taciturnity +under stress of anger--suspicious, also, of the gradual shifting that +had been going on for days among the crews of the scows. A shifting +that indicated Vermilion was selecting the crew of his own scow with an +eye to a purpose--a purpose that had not altogether to do with the +scow's safe conduct through white-water. But Chloe had taken no note +of the personnel of the scowmen, nor of the fact that the freight of +the head scow consisted only of pieces that obviously contained +provisions, together with her own tent and sleeping outfit, and several +burlapped pieces marked with the name "MacNair." Idly she wondered who +MacNair was, but refrained from asking. + +The long-gathering twilight deepened as the scows floated northward. +Vermilion's face lost its scowl, and he smoked in silence--a sinister +figure, thought the girl, as he crouched in the bow, his dark features +set off to advantage by his flaming head-band. + +Into the stillness crept a sound--the far-off roar of a rapid. Sullen, +and dull, it scarce broke the monotony of the silence--low, yet ever +increasing in volume. + +"Another portage?" wearily asked the girl. + +Vermilion shook his head. "_Non_, eet ees de Chute. Ten miles of de +wild, fast wataire, but safe--eef you know de way. Me--Vermilion--I'm +tak' de scow t'rough a hondre tam--_bien_!" + +"But, you can't make it in the dark!" + +Vermilion laughed. "We mak' de camp to-night. To-mor', we run de +Chute." He reached for the light pole with which he indicated the +channel to the steersman, and beat sharply upon the running-board that +formed the gunwale of the scow. Sleepily the five sprawling forms +stirred, and awoke to consciousness. Vermilion spoke a guttural jargon +of words and the men fumbled the rude sweeps against the tholes. The +other three scows drifted lazily in the rear and, standing upon the +running-board, Vermilion roared his orders. Figures in the scows +stirred, and sweeps thudded against thole-pins. The roar of the Chute +was loud, now--hoarse, and portentous of evil. + +The high banks on either side of the river drew closer together, the +speed of the drifting scows increased, and upon the dark surface of the +water tiny whirlpools appeared. Vermilion raised the pole above his +head and pointed toward a narrow strip of beach that showed dimly at +the foot of the high bank, at a point only a few hundred yards above +the dark gap where the river plunged between the upstanding rocks of +the Chute. + +Looking backward, Chloe watched the three scows with their swarthy +crews straining at the great sweeps. Here was action--life! Primitive +man battling against the unbending forces of an iron wilderness. The +red blood leaped through the girl's veins as she realized that this +life was to be her life--this wilderness to be her wilderness. Hers to +bring under the book, and its primitive children, hers--to govern by a +rule of thumb! + +Suddenly she noticed that the following scows were much nearer shore +than her own, and also, that they were being rapidly out-distanced. +She glanced quickly toward shore. The scow was opposite the strip of +beach toward which the others were slowly but surely drawing. The scow +seemed motionless, as upon the surface of a mill-pond, but the beach, +and the high bank beyond, raced past to disappear in the deepening +gloom. The figures in the following scows--the scows +themselves--blurred into the shore-line. The beach was gone. Rocks +appeared, jagged, and high--close upon either hand. + +In a sudden panic, Chloe glanced wildly toward Vermilion, who crouched +in the bow, pole in hand, and with set face, stared into the gloom +ahead. Swiftly her glance travelled over the crew--their faces, also, +were set, and they stood at the sweeps, motionless, but with their eyes +fixed upon the pole of the pilot. Beyond Vermilion, in the forefront, +appeared wave after wave of wildly tossing water. For just an instant +the scow hesitated, trembled through its length, and with the leaping +waves battering against its bottom and sides, plunged straight into the +maw of the Chute! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +VERMILION SHOWS HIS HAND + +Down, down through the Chute raced the heavily loaded scow, seeming +fairly to leap from wave to wave in a series of tremendous shocks, as +the flat bottom rose high in the fore and crashed onto the crest of the +next wave, sending a spume of stinging spray high into the air. +White-water curled over the gunwale and sloshed about in the bottom. +The air was chill, and wet--like the dead air of a rock-cavern. + +Chloe Elliston knew one moment of swift fear. And then, the mighty +roar of the waters; the mad plunging of the scow between the towering +walls of rock; the set, tense face of Vermilion as he stared into the +gloom; the laboured breathing of the scowmen as they strained at the +sweeps, veering the scow to the right, or to the left, as the rod of +the pilot indicated; the splendid battle of it; the wild exhilaration +of fighting death on death's own stamping ground flung all thought of +fear aside, and in the girl's heart surged the wild, fierce joy of +living, with life itself at stake. + +For just an instant Chloe's glance rested upon her companions; Big Lena +sat scowling murderously at Vermilion's broad back. Harriet Penny had +fainted and lay with the back of her head awash in the shallow bilge +water. A strange _alter ego_--elemental--primordial--had taken +possession of Chloe. Her eyes glowed, and her heart thrilled at the +sight of the tense, vigilant figure of Vermilion, and the sweating, +straining scowmen. For the helpless form of Harriet Penny she felt +only contempt--the savage, intolerant contempt of the strong for the +weak among firstlings. + +The intoxication of a new existence was upon her, or, better, a +world-old existence--an existence that was new when the world was new. +In that moment, she was a throw-back of a million years, and through +her veins fumed the ferine blood of her paleolithic forebears. What is +life but proof of the fitness to live? Death, but defeat. + +On rushed the scow, leaping, crashing from wave to wave, into the +Northern night. And, as it rushed and leaped and crashed, it bore two +women, their garments touching, but between whom interposed a whole +world of creeds and fabrics. + +Suddenly, Chloe sensed a change. The scow no longer leaped and +crashed, and the roar of the rapids grew faint. No longer the form of +Vermilion appeared couchant, tense; and, among the scowmen, one +laughed. Chloe drew a deep breath, and a slight shudder shook her +frame. She glanced about her in bewilderment, and, reaching swiftly +down, raised the inert form of Harriet Penny and rested it gently +against her knees. + +The darkness of night had settled upon the river. Stars twinkled +overhead. The high, scrub-timbered shore loomed formless and black, +and the flat bottom of the scow rasped harshly on gravel. Vermilion +leaped ashore, followed by the scowmen, and Chloe assisted Big Lena +with the still unconscious form of Harriet Penny. As if by magic, +fires flared out upon the shingle, and in an incredibly short time the +girl found herself seated upon her bed-roll inside her mosquito-barred +tent of balloon silk. The older woman had revived and lay, a dejected +heap, upon her blankets, and out in front Big Lena was stooping over a +fire. Beyond, upon the gravel, the fires of the scowmen flamed red, +and threw wavering reflections upon the black water of the river. + +Chloe was seized with a strange unrest. The sight of Harriet Penny +irritated her. She stepped from the tent and filled her lungs with +great drafts of the spruce-laden night-breeze that wafted gently out of +the mysterious dark, and rippled the surface of the river until little +waves slapped softly against the shore in tiny whisperings of the +unknown--whisperings that called, and were understood by the new +awakened self within her. + +She glanced toward the fires of the rivermen where the dark-skinned, +long-haired sons of the wild squatted close about the flames over which +pots boiled, grease fried, and chunks of red meat browned upon the ends +of long toasting-sticks. The girl's heart leaped with the wild freedom +of it. A sense of might and of power surged through her veins. These +men were her men--hers to command. Savages and half-savages whose work +it was to do her bidding--and who performed their work well. The night +was calling her--the vague, portentous night of the land beyond +outposts. Slowly she passed the fires, and on along the margin of the +river whose waters, black and forbidding, reached into the North. + +"The unconquered North," she breathed, as she stood upon a water-lapped +boulder and gazed into the impenetrable dark. And, as she gazed, +before her mind's eye rose a vision. The scattered teepees of the +Northland, smoke-blackened, filthy, stinking with the reek of +ill-tanned skins, resolved themselves into a village beside a broad, +smooth-flowing river. + +The teepees faded, and in their place appeared rows of substantial log +cabins, each with its door-yard of neatly trimmed grass, and its beds +of gay flowers. Broad streets separated the rows. The white spire of +a church loomed proudly at the end of a street. From the doorways +dark, full-bodied women smiled happily--their faces clean, and their +long, black hair caught back with artistic bands of quill embroidery, +as they called to the clean brown children who played light-heartedly +in the grassed dooryards. Tall, lean-shouldered men, whose swarthy +faces glowed with the love of their labour, toiled gladly in fields of +yellow grain, or sang and called to one another in the forest where the +ring of their axes was drowned in the crash of falling trees. + +Her vision of the North--the conquered North--her North! + +As Sir James Brooke and Tiger Elliston overthrew barbarism and +established in its place an island empire of civilization, so would she +supersede savagery with culture. But, her empire of the North should +be an empire founded not upon blood, but upon humanity and brotherly +love. + +The girl started nervously. Her brain-picture resolved into the +formless dark. From the black waters, almost at her feet, sounded, +raucous and loud, the voice of the great loon. Frenzied, maniacal, +hideous, rang the night-shattering laughter. The uncouth mockery of +the raw--the defiance of the unconquerable North! + +With a shudder, Chloe turned and fled toward the red-flaring fires. In +that moment a feeling of defeat surged over her--of heart-sickening +hopelessness. The figures at the fires were unkempt, dirty, revolting, +as they gouged and tore at the half-cooked meat into which their yellow +fangs drove deep, as the red blood squirted and trickled from the +corners of their mouths to drip unheeded upon the sweat-stiffened +cotton of their shirts. Savages! And she, Chloe Elliston, at the very +gateway of her empire, fled incontinently to the protection of their +fires! + +Wide awake upon her blankets, in the smudge-pungent tent where her two +companions slept heavily, Chloe sat late into the night staring through +the mosquito-barred entrance toward the narrow strip of beach where the +dying fires of the scowmen glowed sullenly in the darkness, pierced now +and again by the fitful flare of a wind-whipped brand. Two still forms +wrapped in ragged blankets, lay like logs where sleep had overcome them. + +A short distance removed from the others, the fire of Vermilion burned +brightly. Between this fire and a heavily smoking smudge, four men +played cards upon a blanket spread upon the ground. Silently, save for +an occasional grunt or mumbled word, they played--dealing, tossing into +the centre the amount of their bets, leaning forward to rake in a pot, +or throwing down their cards in disgust, to await the next deal. + +The scene was intrinsically savage. At the end of the day's work, +primitive man followed primitive instinct. Gorged to repletion, they +slept, or wasted their substance with the improvidence of +jungle-beasts. And these were the men Chloe Elliston had pictured +labouring joyously in the upbuilding of homes! Once more the feeling +of hopelessness came over her--seemed smothering, stifling her. And a +great wave of longing carried her back to the land of her own +people--the land of convention and sophistry. + +Could it be that they were right? They who had scoffed, and ridiculed, +and forbade her? What could _she_ do in the refashioning of a +world-old wild--one woman against the established creeds of an iron +wilderness? Where, now, were her dreams of empire, her ideals, and her +castles in Spain? Was she to return, broken on the wheel? Crushed +between the adamantine millstones of things as they ought not to be? + +The resolute lips drooped, a hot salt tear blurred Vermilion's +camp-fire and distorted the figures of the gambling scowmen. She +closed her eyes tightly. The writhing green shadow-shapes lost form, +dimmed, and resolved themselves into an image--a lean, lined face with +rapier-blade eyes gazed upon her from the blackness--the face of Tiger +Elliston! + +Instantly, the full force and determination of her surged through the +girl's veins anew. The drooping lips stiffened. Her heart sang with +the joy of conquest. The tight-pressed lids flew open, and for a long +time she watched the shadow-dance of the flames on her tent wall. Dim, +and elusive, and far away faded the dancing shadow-shapes--and she +slept. + +Not so Vermilion, who, when his companions tired of their game and +sought their blankets, sat and stared into the embers of his dying +fire. The half-breed was troubled. As boss of Pierre Lapierre's +scowmen, a tool of a master mind, a unit of a system, he had prospered. +But, no longer was he a unit of a system. From the moment Chloe +Elliston had bargained with him for the transportation of her outfit +into the wilderness, the man's brain had been active in formulating a +plan. + +This woman was rich. One who is not rich cannot afford to transport +thirty-odd tons of outfit into the heart of the wilderness, at the +tariff of fifteen cents the pound. So, throughout the days of the +journey, the man gazed with avarice upon the piles of burlapped pieces, +while his brain devised the scheme. Thereafter, in the dead of night +occurred many whispered consultations, as Vermilion won over his men. +He chose shrewdly, for these men knew Pierre Lapierre, and well they +knew what portion would be theirs should the scheme of Vermilion +miscarry. + +At last, the selection had been made, and five of the most desperate +and daring of all the rivermen had, by the lure of much gold, consented +to cast loose from the system and "go it alone." The first daring move +in the undertaking had succeeded--a move that, in itself, bespoke the +desperate character of its perpetrators, for it was no accident that +sent the head scow plunging down through the Chute in the darkness. + +But, in the breast of Vermilion, as he sat alone beside his camp-fire, +was no sense of elation--and in the heart of him was a great fear. +For, despite the utmost secrecy among the conspirators, the half-breed +knew that even at that moment, somewhere to the northward, Pierre +Lapierre had learned of his plot. + +Eight days had elapsed since the mysterious disappearance of +Chenoine--and Chenoine, it was whispered, was half-brother to Pierre +Lapierre. Therefore, Vermilion crouched beside his camp-fire and +cursed the slowness of the coming of the day. For well he knew that +when a man double-crossed Pierre Lapierre, he must get away with it--or +die. Many had died. The black eyes flashed dangerously. +He--Vermilion--would get away with it! He glanced toward the sleeping +forms of the five scowmen and shuddered. He, Vermilion, knew that he +was afraid to sleep! + +For an instant he thought of abandoning the plan. It was not too late. +The other scows could be run through in the morning, and, if Pierre +Lapierre came, would it not be plain that Chenoine had lied? But, even +with the thought, the avaricious gleam leaped into the man's eyes, and +with a muttered imprecation, he greeted the first faint light of dawn. + +Chloe Elliston opened her eyes sleepily in answer to a gruff call from +without her tent. A few minutes later she stepped out into the grey of +the morning, followed by her two companions. Vermilion was waiting for +her as he watched the scowmen breaking open the freight pieces and +making up hurried trail-packs of provisions. + +"Tam to mush!" sad the man tersely. + +"But where are the other scows?" asked Chloe, glancing toward the bank +where the scow was being rapidly unloaded. "And what is the meaning of +this? Here, you!" she cried, as a half-breed ripped the burlap from a +bale. "Stop that! That's mine!" By her side, Vermilion laughed, a +short, harsh laugh, and the girl turned. + +"De scow, she not com'. We leave de rivaire. We tak' 'long de grub, +eh?" The man's tone was truculent--insulting. + +Chloe flushed with anger. "I am not going to leave the river! Why +should I leave the river?" + +Again the man laughed; there was no need for concealment now. "Me, +Vermilion, I'm know de good plac' back in de hills. We go for stay +dere till you pay de money." + +"Money? What money?" + +"Un hondre t'ousan' dollaire--cash! You pay, Vermilion--he tak' you +back. You no pay--" The man shrugged significantly. + +The girl stared, dumbfounded. "What do you mean? One hundred thousand +dollars! Are you crazy?" + +The man stepped close, his eyes gleaming wickedly. "You reech. You +pay un hondre t'ousan' dollaire, or, ba gar, you nevaire com' out de +bush!" + +Chloe laughed in derision. "Oh! I am kidnapped! Is that it? How +romantic!" The man scowled. "Don't be a fool, Vermilion! Do you +suppose I came into this country with a hundred thousand dollars in +cash--or even a tenth of that amount?" + +The man shrugged indifferently. "_Non_, but you mak' de write on de +papaire, an' Menard, he tak' heem to de bank--Edmonton--Preence Albert. +He git de money. By-m-by, two mont', me'be, he com' back. Den, +Vermilion, he tak' you close to de H.B. post--_bien_! You kin go hom', +an' Vermilion, he go ver' far away." + +Chloe suddenly realized that the man was in earnest. Her eyes flashed +over the swarthy, villainous faces of the scowmen, and the seriousness +of the situation dawned upon her. She knew, now, that the separating +of the scows was the first move in a deep-laid scheme. Her brain +worked rapidly. It was evident that the men on the other scows were +not party to the plot, or Vermilion would not have risked running the +Chute in the darkness. She glanced up the river. Would the other +scows come on? It was her one hope. She must play for time. Harriet +Penny sobbed aloud, and Big Lena glowered. Again Chloe laughed into +the scowling face of the half-breed. "What about the Mounted? When +they find I am missing there will be an investigation." + +For answer, Vermilion pointed toward the river-bank, where the men were +working with long poles in the overturning of the scow. "We shove heem +out in de rivaire. Wen dey fin', dey t'ink she mak' for teep ovaire in +de Chute. _Voila_! Dey say: 'Een de dark she run on de +rock'--_pouf_!" he signified eloquently the instantaneous snuffing out +of lives. Even as he spoke the scow overturned with a splash, and the +scowmen pushed it out into the river, where it floated bottom upward, +turning lazily in the grip of an eddy. The girl's heart sank as her +eyes rested upon the overturned scow. Vermilion had plotted cunningly. +He drew closer now--leering horribly. + +"You mak' write on de papaire--_non_?" + +A swift anger surged in the girl's heart. "No!" she cried. "I will +not write! I have no such amount in any bank this side of San +Francisco! But if I had a million dollars, you would not get a cent! +You can't bluff me!" + +Vermilion sprang toward her with a snarl; but before he could lay hands +upon her Big Lena, with a roar of rage, leaped past the girl and drove +a heavy stick of firewood straight at the half-breed's head. The man +ducked swiftly, and the billet thudded against his shoulder, staggering +him. Instantly two of the scowmen threw themselves upon the woman and +bore her to the ground, where she fought, tooth and nail, while they +pinioned her arms. Vermilion, his face livid, seized Chloe roughly. +The girl shrank in terror from the grip of the thick, grimy fingers and +the glare of the envenomed eyes that blazed from the distorted, brutish +features. + +"Stand back!" + +The command came sharp and quick in a low, hard voice--the voice of +authority. Vermilion whirled with a snarl. Uttering a loud cry of +fear, one of the scowmen dashed into the bush, closely followed by two +of his companions. Two men advanced swiftly and noiselessly from the +cover of the scrub. Like a flash, the half-breed jerked a revolver +from his belt and fired. Chenoine fell dead. Before Vermilion could +fire again the other man, with the slightest perceptible movement of +his right hand, fired from the hip. The revolver dropped from the +half-breed's hand. He swayed unsteadily for a few seconds, his eyes +widening into a foolish, surprised stare. He half-turned and opened +his lips to speak. Pink foam reddened the corners of his mouth and +spattered in tiny drops upon his chin. He gasped for breath with a +spasmodic heave of the shoulders. A wheezing, gurgling sound issued +from his throat, and a torrent of blood burst from his lips and +splashed upon the ground. With eyes wildly rolling, he clutched +frantically at the breast of his cotton shirt and pitched heavily into +the smouldering ashes of the fire at the feet of the stranger. + +But few seconds had elapsed since Chloe felt the hand of Vermilion +close about her wrist--tense, frenzied seconds, to the mind of the +girl, who gazed in bewilderment upon the bodies of the two dead men +which lay almost touching each other. + +The man who had ordered Vermilion to release her, and who had fired the +shot that had killed him, stood calmly watching four lithe-bodied +canoemen securely bind the arms of the two scowmen who had attacked Big +Lena. + +So sudden had been the transition from terror to relief in her heart +that the scene held nothing of repugnance to the girl, who was +conscious only of a feeling of peace and security. She even smiled +into the eyes of her deliverer, who had turned his attention from his +canoemen and stood before her, his soft-brimmed Stetson in his hand. + +"Oh! I--I thank you!" exclaimed the girl, at a loss for words. + +The man bowed low. "It is nothing. I am glad to have been of some +slight service." Something in the tone of the well-modulated voice, +the correct speech, the courtly manner, thrilled the girl strangely. +It was all so unexpected--so out of place, here in the wild. She felt +the warm colour mount to her face. + +"Who are you?" she asked abruptly. + +"I am Pierre Lapierre," answered the man in the same low voice. + +In spite of herself, Chloe started slightly, and instantly she knew +that the man had noticed. He smiled, with just an appreciable +tightening at the corners of the mouth, and his eyes narrowed almost +imperceptibly. He continued: + +"And now, Miss Elliston, if you will retire to your tent for a few +moments, I will have these removed." He indicated the bodies. "You +see, I know your name. The good Chenoine told me. He it was who +warned me of Vermilion's plot in time for me to frustrate it. Of +course, I should have rescued you later. I hold myself responsible for +the safe conduct of all who travel in my scows. But it would have been +at the expense of much time and labour, and, very possibly, of human +life as well--an incident regrettable always, but not always avoidable." + +Chloe nodded, and, with her thoughts in a whirl of confusion, turned +and entered her tent, where Harriet Penny lay sobbing hysterically, +with her blankets drawn over her head. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PIERRE LAPIERRE + +A half-hour later, when Chloe again ventured from the tent, all +evidence of the struggle had disappeared. The bodies of the two dead +men had been removed, and the canoemen were busily engaged in gathering +together and restoring the freight pieces that had been ripped open by +the scowmen. + +Lapierre advanced to meet her, his carefully creased Stetson in hand. + +"I have sent word for the other scows to come on at once, and in the +meantime, while my men attend to the freight, may we not talk?" + +Chloe assented, and the two seated themselves upon a log. It was then, +for the first time that the girl noticed that one side of Lapierre's +face--the side he had managed to keep turned from her--was battered and +disfigured by some recent misadventure. Noticed, too, the really fine +features of him--the dark, deep-set eyes that seemed to smoulder in +their depths, the thin, aquiline nose, the shapely lips, the clean-cut +lines of cheek and jaw. + +"You have been hurt!" she cried. "You have met with an accident!" + +The man smiled, a smile in which cynicism blended with amusement. + +"Hardly an accident, I think, Miss Elliston, and, in any event, of +small consequence." He shrugged a dismissal of the subject, and his +voice assumed a light gaiety of tone. + +"May we not become better acquainted, we two, who meet in this far +place, where travellers are few and worth the knowing?" There was no +cynicism in his smile now, and without waiting for a reply he +continued: "My name you already know. I have only to add that I am an +adventurer in the wilds--explorer of _hinterlands_, free-trader, +freighter, sometime prospector--casual cavalier." He rose, swept the +Stetson from his head, and bowed with mock solemnity. + +"And now, fair lady, may I presume to inquire your mission in this land +of magnificent wastes?" Chloe's laughter was genuine as it was +spontaneous. + +Lapierre's light banter acted as a tonic to the girl's nerves, harassed +as they were by a month's travel through the fly-bitten wilderness. +More--he interested her. He was different. As different from the +half-breeds and Indian canoemen with whom she had been thrown as his +speech was from the throaty guttural by means of which they exchanged +their primitive ideas. + +"Pray pause, Sir Cavalier," she smiled, falling easily into the gaiety +of the man's mood. "I have ventured into your wilderness upon a most +unpoetic mission. Merely the establishment of a school for the +education and betterment of the Indians of the North." + +A moment of silence followed the girl's words--a moment in which she +was sure a hard, hostile gleam leaped into the man's eyes. A trick of +fancy doubtless, she thought, for the next instant it had vanished. +When he spoke, his air of light raillery was gone, but his lips +smiled--a smile that seemed to the girl a trifle forced. + +"Ah, yes, Miss Elliston. May I ask at whose instigation this school is +to be established--and where?" He was not looking at her now, his eyes +sought the river, and his face showed only a rather finely moulded +chin, smooth-shaven--and the lips, with their smile that almost sneered. + +Instantly Chloe felt that a barrier had sprung up between herself and +this mysterious stranger who had appeared so opportunely out of the +Northern bush. Who was he? What was the meaning of the old factor's +whispered warning? And why should the mention of her school awake +disapproval, or arouse his antagonism? Vaguely she realized that the +sudden change in this man's attitude hurt. The displeasure, and +opposition, and ridicule of her own people, and the surly indifference +of the rivermen, she had overridden or ignored. This man she could not +ignore. Like herself, he was an adventurer of untrodden ways. A man +of fancy, of education and light-hearted raillery, and yet, a strong +man, withal--a man of moment, evidently. + +She remembered the sharp, quick words of authority--the words that +caused the villainous Vermilion to whirl with a snarl of fear. +Remembered also, the swift sure shot that had ended Vermilion's career, +his absolute mastery of the situation, his lack of excitement or +braggadocio, and the expressed regret over the necessity for killing +the man. Remembered the abject terror in the eyes of those who fled +into the bush at his appearance, and the servility of the canoemen. + +As she glanced into the half-turned face of the man, Chloe saw that the +sneering smile had faded from the thin lips as he waited her answer. + +"At _my own_ instigation." There was an underlying hardness of +defiance in her words, and the firm, sun-reddened chin unconsciously +thrust forward beneath the encircling mosquito net. She paused, but +the man, expressionless, continued to gaze out over the surface of the +river. + +"I do not know exactly _where_," she continued, "but it will be +_somewhere_. Wherever it will do the most good. Upon the bank of some +river, or lake, perhaps, where the people of the wilderness may come +and receive that which is theirs of right----" + +"Theirs of right?" The man looked into her face, and Chloe saw that the +thin lips again smiled--this time with a quizzical smile that hinted at +tolerant amusement. The smile stung. + +"Yes, theirs of right!" she flashed. "The education that was freely +offered to me, and to you--and of which we availed ourselves." + +For a long time the man continued to gaze in silence, and, when at +length he spoke, it was to ask an entirely irrelevant question. + +"Miss Elliston, you have heard my name before?" + +The question came as a surprise, and for a moment Chloe hesitated. +Then frankly, and looking straight into his eyes she answered: + +"Yes, I have." + +The man nodded, "I knew you had." He turned his injured eye quickly +from the dazzle of the sunlight that flashed from the surface of the +river, and Chloe saw that it was discoloured and bloodshot. She arose, +and stepping to his side laid her hand upon his arm. + +"You _are_ hurt," she said earnestly, "your eye gives you pain." + +Beneath her fingers the girl felt the play of strong muscles as the arm +pressed against her hand. Their eyes met, and her heart quickened with +a strange new thrill. Hastily she averted her glance and then---- The +man's arm suddenly was withdrawn and Chloe saw that his fist had +clinched. With a rush the words brought back to him the scene in the +trading-room of the post at Fort Rae. The low, log-room, piled high +with the goods of barter. The great cannon stove. The two groups of +dark-visaged Indians--his own Chippewayans, and MacNair's Yellow +Knives, who stared in stolid indifference. The trembling, excited +clerk. The grim chief trader, and the stern-faced factor who watched +with approving eyes while two men fought in the wide cleared space +between the rough counter and the high-piled bales of woollens and +strouds. + +Chloe Elliston drew back aghast. The thin lips of the man had twisted +into a snarl of rage, and a living, bestial hate seemed fairly to blaze +from the smouldering eyes, as Lapierre's thoughts dwelt upon the +closing moments of that fight, when he felt himself giving ground +before the hammering, smashing blows of Bob MacNair's big fists. Felt +the tightening of the huge arms like steel bands about his body when he +rushed to a clinch--bands that crushed and burned so that each sobbing +breath seemed a blade, white-hot from the furnace, stabbing and searing +into his tortured lungs. Felt the vital force and strength of him ebb +and weaken so that the lean, slender fingers that groped for MacNair's +throat closed feebly and dropped limp to dangle impotently from his +nerveless arms. Felt the sudden release of the torturing bands of +steel, the life-giving inrush of cool air, the dull pain as his dizzy +body rocked to the shock of a crashing blow upon the jaw, the blazing +flash of the blow that closed his eye, and, then--more soul-searing, +and of deeper hurt than the blows that battered and marred--the feel of +thick fingers twisted into the collar of his soft shirt. Felt himself +shaken with an incredible ferocity that whipped his ankles against +floor and counter edge. And, the crowning indignity of all--felt +himself dragged like a flayed carcass the full length of the room, out +of the door, and jerked to his feet upon the verge of the steep descent +to the lake. Felt the propelling impact of the heavy boot that sent +him crashing headlong into the underbrush through which he rolled and +tumbled like a mealbag, to bring up suddenly in the cold water. + +The whole scene passed through his brain as dreams flash--almost within +the batting of an eye. Half-consciously, he saw the girl's sudden +start, and the look of alarm upon her face as she drew back from the +glare of his hate-flashing eyes and the bestial snarl of his lips. +With an effort he composed himself: + +"Pardon, Miss Elliston, I have frightened you with an uncouth show of +savagery. It is a rough, hard country--this land of the wolf and the +caribou. Primal instincts and brutish passions here are +unrestrained--a fact responsible for my present battered appearance. +For, as I said, it was no accident that marred me thus, unless, +perchance, the prowling of the brute across my path may be attributed +to accident--rather, I believe it was timed." + +"The brute! Who, or what is the brute? And why should he harm you?" + +"MacNair is his name--Bob MacNair." There was a certain tense hardness +in the man's tone, and Chloe was conscious that the smouldering eyes +were regarding her searchingly. + +"MacNair," said the girl, "why, that is the name on those bales!" + +"What bales?" + +"The bales in the scow--they are on the river-bank now." + +"My scows carrying MacNair's freight!" cried the man, and motioning her +to accompany him he walked rapidly to the bank where lay the four or +five pieces, upon which Chloe had read the name. Lapierre dropped to +his knees and regarded the pieces intently, suddenly he leaped to his +feet with a laugh and called in the Indian tongue to one of his +canoemen. The man brought him an ax, and raising it high, Lapierre +brought it crashing upon the innocent-looking freight piece. There was +a sound of smashing staves, a gurgle of liquid, and the strong odour of +whiskey assailed their nostrils. + +The piece was a keg, cunningly disguised as to shape, and covered with +burlap. One by one the man attacked the other pieces marked with the +name of MacNair, and as each cask was smashed, the whiskey gurgled and +splashed and seeped into the ground. Chloe watched breathlessly until +Lapierre finished, and with a smile of grim satisfaction, tossed the ax +upon the ground. + +"There is one consignment of firewater that will never be delivered," +he said. + +"What does it mean?" asked Chloe, and Lapierre noticed that her eyes +were alight with interest. "Who is this MacNair, and----" + +For answer Lapierre took her gently by the arm and led her back to the +log. + +"MacNair," he began, "is the most atrocious tyrant that ever breathed. +Like myself, he is a free-trader--that is, he is not in the employ of +the Hudson Bay Company. He is rich, and owns a permanent post of his +own, to the northward, on Snare Lake, while I vend my wares under God's +own canopy, here and there upon the banks of lakes and rivers." + +"But why should he attack you?" + +The man shrugged. "Why? Because he hates me. He hates any one who +deals fairly with the Indians. His own Indians, a band of the Yellow +Knives, together with an onscouring of Tantsawhoots, Beavers, Dog-ribs, +Strongbows, Hares, Brushwoods, Sheep, and Huskies, he holds in abject +peonage. Year in and year out he forces them to dig in his mines for +their bare existence. Over on the Athabasca they call him Brute +MacNair, and among the Loucheaux and Huskies he is known as +The-Bad-Man-of-the-North. + +"He pays no cash for labour, nor for fur, and he sees to it that his +Indians are always hopelessly in his debt. He trades them whiskey. +They are his. His to work, and to cheat, and to debauch, and to vent +his rage upon--for his passions are the wild, unbridled passions of the +fighting wolf. He kills! He maims! Or he allows to live! The +Indians are his, body and soul. Their wives and their children are +his. He owns them. _He_ is the law! + +"He warned me out of the North. I ignored that warning. The land is +broad and free. There is room for all, therefore I brought in my goods +and traded. And, because I refused to grind the poor savages under the +iron heel of oppression, because I offer a meagre trifle over and above +what is necessary for their bare existence, the brute hates me. He +came upon me at Fort Rae, and there, in the presence of the factor, his +clerk, and his chief trader, he fell upon me and beat me so that for +three days I lay unable to travel." + +"But the others!" interrupted the girl, "the factor and his men! Why +did they allow it?" + +Again the gleam of hate flashed in the man's eyes. "They allowed it +because they are in league with him. They fear him. They fear his +hold upon the Indians. So long as he maintains a permanent post a +hundred and seventy-five miles to the northward--more than two hundred +and fifty by the water trail--they know that he will not seriously +injure the trade at Fort Rae. With me it is different. I trade here, +and there, wherever the children of the wilderness are to be found. +Therefore I am hated by the men of the Hudson Bay Company who would +have been only too glad had MacNair killed me." + +Chloe, who had listened eagerly to every word, leaped to her feet and +looked at Lapierre with shining eyes. "Oh! I think it is splendid! +You are brave, and you stand for the right of things! For the welfare +of the Indians! I see now why the factor warned me against you! He +wanted to discredit you." + +Lapierre smiled. "The factor? What factor? And what did he tell you?" + +"The factor at the Landing. 'Beware of Pierre Lapierre,' he said; and +when I asked him who Pierre Lapierre was, and why I should beware of +him, he shrugged his shoulders and would say nothing." + +Lapierre nodded. "Ah yes--the company men--the factors and traders +have no love for the free-trader. We cannot blame them. It is +tradition. For nearly two and one-half centuries the company has stood +for power and authority in the outlands--and has reaped the profits of +the wild places. Let us be generous. It is an old and respectable +institution. It deals fairly enough with the Indians--by its own +measure of fairness, it is true--but fairly enough. With the company I +have no quarrel. + +"But with MacNair--" he stopped abruptly and shrugged. The gleam of +hate that flashed in his eyes always at the mention of the name faded. +"But why speak of him--surely there are more pleasant subjects," he +smiled, "for instance your school--it interests me greatly." + +"Interests you! I thought it displeased you! Surely a look of +annoyance or suspicion leaped from your eyes when I mentioned my +mission." + +The man laughed lightly. "Yes? And can you blame me--when I thought +you were in league with Brute MacNair? For, since his post was +established, no independent save myself has dared to encroach upon even +the borders of his empire." + +Chloe Elliston flushed deeply. "And you thought I would league myself +with a man like _that_?" + +"Only for a moment. Stop and think. All my life I have lived in the +North, and, except for a few scattered priests and missionaries, no one +has pushed beyond the outposts for any purpose other than for gain. +And the trader's gain is the Indian's loss--for, few deal fairly. +Therefore, when I came upon your big outfit upon the very threshold of +MacNair's domain, I thought, of course, this was some new machination +of the brute. Even now I do not understand--the expense, and all. The +Indians cannot afford to pay for education." + +It was the girl's turn to laugh. A rippling, light-hearted laugh--the +laughter of courage and youth. The barrier that had suddenly loomed +between herself and this man of the North vanished in a breath. He had +shown her her work, had pointed out to her a foeman worthy of her +steel. She darted a swift glance toward Lapierre who sat staring into +the fire. Would not this man prove an invaluable ally in her war of +deliverance? + +"Do not trouble yourself about the expense," she smiled. "I have +money--'oodles of it,' as we used to say in school--millions, if I need +them! And I'm going to fight this Brute MacNair until I drive him out +of the North! And you? Will you help me to rid the country of this +scourge and free the people from his tyranny? Together we could work +wonders. For your heart is with the Indians, as mine is." + +Again the girl glanced into the man's face and saw that the deep-set +black eyes fairly glittered with enthusiasm and eagerness--an eagerness +and enthusiasm that a keener observer than Chloe Elliston might have +noticed, sprang into being suspiciously coincident with her mention of +the millions. Lapierre did not answer at once, but deftly rolled a +cigarette. The end of the cigarette glowed brightly as he filled his +lungs and blew a plume of grey smoke into the air. + +"Allow me a little time to think. For this is a move of importance, +and to be undertaken not lightly. It is no easy task you have set +yourself. It is possible you will not win--highly probable, in fact, +for----" + +"But I _shall_ win! I am _right_--and upon my winning depends the +future of a people! Think it over until tomorrow, if you will, but--" +She paused abruptly, and her soft, hazel eyes peered searchingly into +the depths of the restless black ones. "Your sympathies _are_ with the +Indians, aren't they?" + +Lapierre tossed the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground. "Can you +doubt it?" The man's eyes were not gleaming now, and into their depths +had crept a look of ineffable sadness. + +"They are my people," he said softly. "Miss Elliston, _I am an +Indian_!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CHLOE SECURES AN ALLY + +A shout from the bank heralded the appearance of the first scow, which +was closely followed by the two others. When they had landed, Lapierre +issued a few terse orders, and the scowmen leaped to his bidding. The +overturned scow was righted and loaded, and the remains of the +demolished whiskey-kegs burned. Lapierre himself assisted the three +women to their places, and as Chloe seated herself near the bow, he +smiled into her eyes. + +"Vermilion was a good riverman, but so am I. Do you think you can +trust your new pilot?" + +Somehow, the words seemed to imply more than the mere steering of a +scow. Chloe flushed slightly, hesitated a moment, and then returned +the man's smile frankly. + +"Yes," she answered gravely, "I know I can." + +Their eyes met in a long look. Lapierre gave the command to shove off, +and when the scows were well in the grip of the current, he turned +again to the girl at his side. Their hands touched, and again Chloe +was conscious of the strange, new thrill that quickened her +heart-beats. She did not withdraw her hand, and the fingers of +Lapierre closed about her palm. He leaned toward her. "Only quarter +Indian," he said softly. "My grandmother was the daughter of a great +chief." + +The girl felt the hot blood mount to her face and gently withdrew her +hand. Somehow, she could not tell why, the words seemed good to hear. +She smiled, and Lapierre, who was watching her intently, smiled in +return. + +"We are approaching quick water; we will cover many miles today, and +tonight beside the camp-fire we will talk further." + +Chloe's eyes searched the scows. "Where are the two who attacked Lena? +Your men captured them." + +Lapierre's smile hardened. "Those who deserted me for Vermilion? Oh, +I--dismissed them from my service." + +Hour after hour, as the scows rushed northward, Chloe watched the +shores glide past; watched the swirling, boiling water of the river; +watched the solemn-faced scowmen, and the silent, vigilant pilot; but +most of all she watched the pilot, whose quick eye picked out the +devious channel, and whose clear, alert brain directed, with a movement +of the lancelike pole, the labours of the men at the sweeps. + +She contrasted his manner--quiet, graceful, sure--with that of +Vermilion, the very swing of whose pole proclaimed the vaunting, +arrogant braggart. And she noted the difference in the attitude of the +scowmen toward these two leaders. Their obedience to Vermilion's +orders had been a surly, protesting obedience; while their obedience to +Lapierre's slightest motion was the quiet, alert obedience that +proclaimed him master of men, as his own silent vigilance proclaimed +him master of the roaring waters. + +When the sun finally dipped behind the barren scrub-topped hills, the +scows were beached at the mouth of a deep ravine, from whose depths +sounded the trickle of a tiny cascade. Lapierre assisted the women +from the scow, issued a few short commands, and, as if by magic, a +dozen fires flashed upon the beach, and in an incredibly short space of +time Chloe found herself seated upon her blankets inside her +mosquito-barred tent. + +Supper over, Harriet Penny immediately sought her bed, and Lapierre led +Chloe to a brightly burning camp-fire. + +Nearby other fires burned, surrounded by dark, savage figures that +showed indistinct in the half-light. The girl's eyes rested for a +moment upon Lapierre, whose thin, handsome features, richly tanned by +long exposure to the Northern winds and sun, presented a pleasing +contrast to the swart flat faces of the rivermen, who sat in groups +about their fires, or lay wrapped in their blankets upon the gravel. + +"You have decided?" abruptly asked Chloe, in a voice of ill-concealed +eagerness. Lapierre's face became at once grave, and he gazed sombrely +into the fire. + +"I have pondered deeply. Through the long hours, while the scow rushed +into the North, there came to me a vision of my people. In the rocks, +in the bush, and the ragged hills I saw it; and in the swirl of the +mighty river. And the vision was good!" + +The voice of the man's Indian grandmother spoke from his lips, and the +soul of her glowed in his deep-set eyes. + +"Even now _Sakhalee Tyee_ speaks from the stars of the night sky. My +people shall learn the wisdom of the white man. The power of the +oppressor shall be broken, and the children of the far places shall +come into their own." + +The man's voice had dropped into the rhythmic intonation of the Indian +orator, and his eyes were fixed upon the names that curled, lean and +red, among the dry sticks of the camp-fire. Chloe gazed in fascination +into the rapt face of this man of many moods. The soul of the girl +caught the enthusiasm of his words, and she, too, saw the vision--saw +it as she had seen it upon the wave-lapped rock of the river-bank. + +"You will help me?" she cried; "will join forces with me in a war +against the ruthless exploitation of a people who should be as free and +unfettered as the air they breathe?" + +Lapierre bent his gaze upon her face slowly, like one emerging from a +trance. + +"Yes," he answered deliberately; "it is of that I wish to speak. Let +us consider the obstacles in our path--the matter of official +interference. The government will soon learn of your activities, and +the government is prone to look askance at any tampering with the +Indians by an institution not connected with the Church or the State." + +"I have my permit," Chloe answered, "and many commendatory letters from +Ottawa. The men who rule were inclined to think I would accomplish +nothing; but they were willing to let me try." + +"That, then, disposes of our most serious difficulty. Will you tell me +now where you intended to locate?" + +"There is too much traffic upon the river," answered the girl. "The +scow brigades pass and repass; and, at least until my little colony is +fairly established, it must be located in some place uncontaminated by +the presence of so rough, lawless, and drunken an element. As I told +you before, I do not know where my ideal site is to be found. I had +intended to talk the matter over with the factor at Fort Rae." + +"What! That devil of a Haldane? The man who is hand-in-glove with +Brute MacNair!" + +"You forget," smiled the girl, "that until this day I never even heard +of Brute MacNair." + +The man smiled. "Very true. I had forgotten. But it is fortunate +indeed that chance threw us together. I tremble to think what would +have been your fate should you have acted upon the advice of Colin +Haldane." + +"But surely you know the country. You will advise me." + +"Yes, I will advise you. I am with you in this venture; with you to +the last gasp; with you heart and soul, until that devil MacNair is +dead or driven out of the North, and his Indians scattered to the four +winds." + +"Scattered! Why scattered? Why not held together for their education +and betterment? And you say you will be with me until MacNair is +either dead or driven out of the North. What then--will you desert me +then? This MacNair is only an obstacle in our path--an obstacle to be +brushed aside that the real work may begin. Yet you spoke as though he +were the main issue." + +Lapierre interrupted her, speaking rapidly: "Yes, of course. Bear with +me, I pray you. I spoke hastily, and without thinking. My feelings +for the moment carried me away. As you see, the marks of the Brute's +hands are still too fresh upon me to regard him impersonally--an +obstacle, as it were. To me he is a brute! A fiend! A demon! I +_hate_ him!" + +Lapierre shook a clenched fist toward the North, and the words fairly +snarled between his lips. With an effort he controlled himself. "I +have in mind the very place for your school, a spot accessible from all +directions--the mouth of the Yellow Knife River, upon the north arm of +Great Slave Lake. There you will be unmolested by the debauching +rivermen, and yet within easy reach of any who may desire to take +advantage of your school. The very place above all places! In the +whole North you could not have chosen a better! And I shall accompany +you, and direct the building of your houses and stockade. + +"MacNair will learn shortly of your fort--everything is a 'fort' up +here--and he will descend upon you like a ramping lion. When he finds +you are a woman, he will do you no violence. He will scent at once a +rival trading-post and will hurt your cause in every way possible; will +use every means to discredit you among the Indians, and to discourage +you. But even he will do a woman no physical harm. + +"And right here let me caution you--do not temporize with him. He +stands in the North for oppression; gain at any cost; for +debauchery--everything that you do not. Between you and Brute MacNair +there can be no truce. He is powerful. Do not for a moment underrate +either his strength or his sagacity. He is a man of wealth, and his +hold upon the Indians is absolute. I cannot remain with you, but +through my Indians I shall keep in touch with you, work with you; and +together we will accomplish the downfall of this brute of the North." + +For a long time the two figures sat by the fire while the camp slept, +and talked of many things. And when, well toward midnight, Chloe +Elliston retired to her tent, she felt that she had known this man +always. For it is the way of life that stress of events, and not +duration of time, marks the measure of acquaintance and intimacy. +Pierre Lapierre, Chloe Elliston had known but one day, and yet she +believed that among all her acquaintances this man she knew best. + +By the fire Lapierre's eyes followed the girl until she disappeared +within the tent, and as he looked a huge figure arose from the deep +shadows of the scrub, and with a hand grasping the flap of the tent, +turned and stared, silent and grim and forbidding, straight into +Lapierre's eyes. + +The man turned away with a frown. The figure was Big Lena. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +PLANS AND SPECIFICATIONS + +At the mouth of the Slave River the outfit was transferred to twelve +large freight canoes, each carrying three tons, and manned by six +lean-shouldered canoemen, in charge of one Louis LeFroy, Lapierre's boss +canoeman. Straight across the vast expanse of Great Slave Lake they +headed, and skirting the shore of the north arm, upon the evening of the +second day, entered the Yellow Knife River. + +The site selected by Pierre Lapierre for Chloe Elliston's school was, in +point of location, as the quarter-breed had said, an excellent one. Upon +a level plateau at the top of the high bank that slants steeply to the +water of the Yellow Knife River, a short distance above its mouth, +Lapierre set the canoemen to cutting the timber and brush from a wide +area. The girl had come into the North fully prepared for a long +sojourn, and in her thirty-odd tons of outfit were found all tools +necessary for the clearing of land and the erection of buildings. +Brushwood and trees fell before the axes of the half-breeds and Indians, +who worked in a sort of frenzy under the lashing drive of Lapierre's +tongue; and the night skies glowed red in the flare of the flames where +the brush and tree-tops burned in the clearing. + +Two days later a rectangular clearing, three hundred by five hundred +feet, was completed, and early in the morning of the third day Chloe +stood beside Lapierre and looked over the cleared oblong with its piles +of smoking grey ashes, and its groups of logs that lay ready to be rolled +into place to form the walls of her buildings. + +Lapierre seemed ill at ease. Immediately upon the arrival of the outfit +he had dispatched two of his own Indians northward to spy upon the +movements of MacNair, for the man made no secret of his desire to be well +upon his way before the trader should learn of the building of the fort +on the river. + +It had been Chloe's idea to lay out her "village," as she called it, upon +a rather elaborate scheme, the plans for which had been drawn by an +architect whose clients' tastes ran to million-dollar "summer cottages" +at Seashore-by-the-Sea. + +First, there was to be the school itself, an ornate building of crossed +rafters and overhanging eaves. Then the dormitories, two long, parallel +buildings with halls, individual rooms, and baths--one for the women and +one for men--the two to be connected by a common dining-hall in such a +manner as to form three sides of a hollow square. Connected to the +dining-hall was to be a commodious kitchen, and back of that a fully +equipped carpenter-shop and a laundry. + +There were also to be a trading-post, where the Indians could purchase +supplies at cost; a six-room cottage for the accommodation of Big Lena, +Miss Penny, and Chloe; and numerous three-room cabins for the housing of +whole families of Indians, which the girl fondly pictured as flocking in +from the wilderness to have the errors of their heathenish religion +pointed out to them upon a brand-new blackboard, and the discomforts of +their nomadic lives assuaged by an introduction to collapsible bath-tubs +and the multiplication table. For hers was to be a mission as well as a +school. Truly the souls north of sixty were destined to owe her much. +For they borrow cheerfully, and repay--never. + +So much for Chloe Elliston's plan. Lapierre, however, had his own +eminently more practical, if less Utopian, ideas concerning the erection +of a trading-post; for in the quarter-breed's mind the planting of an +independent trading-post upon the very threshold of MacNair's wilderness +empire was of far greater importance than the establishment of a school, +or mission, or any other institution--especially when the post was one +which he himself had set about to control. The man's eyes gleamed and +the thin lips smiled as his glance rested momentarily upon the figure of +the girl--the unwitting, and therefore the more powerful, weapon that +chance had placed in his hands in his battle against MacNair. + +His idea of a post was simplicity itself: One long, log trading-room +with an ell for a storehouse, and a room--two at the most--in the rear +for the accommodation of the three women. The whole to be erected in the +centre of the clearing, and surrounded by a fifteen-foot log stockade. + +Boldly he broached his plan. + +"But this is _not_ a trading-post!" objected the girl. "The store is a +side issue and is to be conducted merely to permit those who take +advantage of my school to obtain the necessities of life at a fair and +reasonable price." + +"Your words were well chosen, Miss Elliston. For if you begin to +undersell the H.B.C., and more especially the independents, every Indian +in the North will proceed to 'take advantage' of your school and of you +also." + +"But they are being robbed!" + +Lapierre smiled. "They do not know it; they are used to it. Let me warn +you that to tamper with existing trade schedules, except by one +experienced in the commerce of the North, is to invite disaster. You +will lose money!" + +"But you told me that you yourself gave the Indians better bargains than +either the Hudson Bay Company or MacNair." + +"I know the North! And you may be assured the concessions are more +nominal than real." + +"Very well, then," flashed the girl. "My concessions will be more real +than nominal, and of that you may be assured. If my store pays expenses, +well and good!" And by the tone of the girl's voice, and the slight, +unconscious out-thrust of her chin, Pierre Lapierre knew that the time +was unpropitious for a further discussion of trade principles. + +Chloe was speaking again: "But to return to the buildings----" + +Lapierre interrupted her, speaking earnestly: "My dear Miss Elliston, +consider the circumstances, the limitations." He tapped lightly the roll +of blue-prints the girl held in her hand. "Those plans were made by a +man who had not the slightest knowledge of conditions as they exist here." + +"The buildings are to be very simple." + +"Undoubtedly. But simplicity is relative. A building that would be +considered simplicity itself in the States, might well be intricate +beyond the possibility of construction here in the wilderness. Do you +realize that among our men is not one who can read a blue-print, or has +ever seen one? Do you realize that to erect buildings in accordance with +these plans would require a force of skilled mechanics under the +supervision of a master builder? And do you realize that time is a most +important factor in our present undertaking? Who can tell at what moment +Brute MacNair may swoop down, upon us like Attila of old, and strike a +fatal blow to our little outpost of civilization? And if he finds _me_ +here--" His voice trailed into silence and his eyes swept gloomily the +northern reach of the river. + +Chloe appeared unimpressed. "I hardly think he will resort to violence. +There is the law--even here in the wilderness. Slow to act, perhaps, +because of the inaccessibility of the wild country; but once its +machinery is in motion, as unbending and as indomitable as justice +itself. You see, I have read of your Mounted Police." + +"The Mounted!" Lapierre laughed. "Yes--I see you have _read_ of them! +Had you derived your information in a more direct manner--had you lived +among them--if you _knew_ them--your childlike trust in them would seem +as absurd, perhaps, as it does to me!" + +"What do you mean?" cried the girl, regarding the quarter-breed with a +searching glance. "That the men of the Mounted are--that they may +be--influenced?" + +Again Lapierre laughed--harshly. "Just that, Miss Elliston! They +are--crooked. They may be influenced!" + +"I cannot believe that!" + +"You will--later." + +"You mean that MacNair has----" + +The man interrupted with a wave of his hand. "What I have told you of +MacNair is the truth. I shall prove this to your own satisfaction, at +the proper time. Until then, I ask you to believe me. Admitting, then, +that I have spoken the truth, do you suppose for an instant that these +facts are not known to the Mounted? If not, then the officers are +inefficient fools. If they are known, why don't the Mounted remedy +matters? Because MacNair is rich! Because he buys them, body and soul! +Because he owns them, like he owns the Indians! That's why! + +"Just stop and consider what is ahead of a dollar-a-day policeman. When +his five-year term of enlistment has expired, he has his choice of +enlisting for another term, or making his living some other way. At the +end of the five years he has learned to hate the service with a hatred +that is soul-searing. It is the hardest, strictest, most exacting, and +most ill-paid service in the world; and the five years of the man's +enlistment have practically rendered him unfit for earning a living. + +"He has lived in the wild country. He knows the wild country. And +civilization, with its rapid advance, has left him five years behind the +times. Our ex-man of the Mounted is fit for only the commonest labour. +And, because there are almost no employers in the North, he cannot turn +his knowledge of the wilds to profitable account, unless he turns +smuggler, whiskey-runner, or fur-poisoner. The men know this. +Therefore, when an officer whose patrol takes him into the far 'back +blocks' is approached by a man like MacNair, with his pockets bulging +with gold, what report goes down to Regina, and on to Ottawa? + +"Yes, Miss Elliston, in the Northland there is law. But the law is a +fundamental law--the primitive law of savage might. The strong devour +the weak. Only the fit survive--survive to be ruled, to be trampled, to +be _owned_ by the strongest. And the law is the measure of might! +Primal instincts--pristine passions--primordial brutishness permeate the +whole North--rule it. + +"The wolf and savage _carcajo_ drag down the hunger-weakened caribou and +the deer, and rip the warm, red flesh from their bones before their eyes +have glazed. And, in turn, the wolf and the _carcajo_, the unoffending +beaver and musquash, the mink, the fisher, the fox, and the otter are +trapped by savage man and the pelts ripped from their twitching bodies +while life and sensibility remain. They are harder to skin when cold. +And with the thermometer at forty or sixty below zero, the little bodies +chill almost instantly if mercifully killed--therefore, they are not +killed, but flayed alive and their bleeding bodies tossed upon the snow. +They die quickly--then. But--they have lived through the skinning! And +that is the North!" + +Chloe Elliston shuddered and drew away in horror. "Is--is this +possible?" she faltered. "Do they----" + +"They do. The fur business is not a pretty business, Miss Elliston. But +neither is the North pretty--nor are its inhabitants. But the traffic in +fur is inherently the business of the North--and its history is written +in blood--the blood and the suffering of thousands of men and millions of +animals. But the profits are great. Fashion has decreed that My Lady +shall be swathed in fur--therefore, men go mad and die in the barrens, +and the quivering red bodies of small animals bleed, and curl up, and +stiffen upon the hard crust of the snow! No, the North is not gentle, +Miss Elliston----" + +"Don't! Don't!" faltered the girl. "It is all too--too horrible--too +sickeningly brutal--too--too unbelievable!" She covered her eyes with +her hand. + +Lapierre answered, dryly. "Yes. The North is that way. It has always +been so--and it always will----" + +Chloe's hand dropped from her eyes and, she faced him in a sudden burst +of passion. Her sensitive lips quivered and her eyes narrowed to the +rapier-blade eyes that were the eyes of Tiger Elliston. She tore the +roll of blue-prints to bits and ground them into the mould with the heel +of her boot. + +"_It will not!_" Her voice cut sharply, and hard. "What do you know of +what the North _will_ be? You know it only as it has been--as it is, +perhaps. But, of its future you know nothing. I tell you the North will +change! It is a hard land--cruel--elemental--raw! But it is _big_! +And, when it awakens, its very bigness, the virile force and strength of +it, will turn against its savagery, its cruelty, its brutishness; and +above all other lands it will stand for the protection of the weak and +for the right of things to live!" + +The quarter-breed gazed into her face with a look of undisguised +admiration. "Ah, Miss Elliston, you are beautiful, now--beautiful +always--but, at this moment--radiant--divine--" Chloe seemed not to hear +him. + +"And that is to be _my_ work--to awaken the North! To bring to its +people the comforts--the advantages of civilization!" + +"The North is too big for you, Miss Elliston. It is too big for _men_. +Pardon, but it is not a woman's land." + +The girl's eyes flashed. "Suppose we leave sex out of it, Mr. Lapierre. +They said of my grandfather that 'the harder they fought him, the better +he liked 'em,' and that 'he never knew when he was licked.' Maybe that +is the reason he never was licked, but lived to carry civilization into a +land that was a thousand years deeper in savagery than this land is. And +today civilization--education--Christianity exist where seventy-five +years ago the chance visitor was tortured first and eaten afterward." + +Lapierre shrugged. "It is useless to argue. I am in sympathy with your +undertaking. I admire your courage, and the high ideals of your mission. +But, permit me to remind you that your grandfather, whoever he was, was +_not_ a woman. Also, that here, in the North, Christianity and education +have failed to civilize--the educated ones and the converts are worse +than the others." + +The girl's eyes darkened and the man noticed the peculiar out-thrust of +the chin. He hastened to change the subject. + +"I am glad you have abandoned those plans. They were useless. May I now +proceed with the building?" + +Chloe smiled. "Yes," she answered, "by all means. But, as this is to be +_my_ undertaking, I think I shall have it _my_ way. Build the store +first, if you please----" + +"And the stockade?" + +"There will be no stockade." + +"No stockade! Are you crazy? If MacNair----" + +"I will attend to MacNair, Mr. Lapierre." + +"Do you imagine MacNair will stand quietly by and allow you to build a +trading-post here on the Yellow Knife? Do you think he will listen to +our explanation that this is a school and that the store is merely a +plaything? I tell you he will countenance neither the school nor the +post. Education for the natives is the last thing MacNair will stand +for." + +"As I told you, I will attend to MacNair. My people will not be armed. +The stockade would be silly." + +Lapierre smiled; drew closer, and dropped his voice to a confidential +whisper. "I can put one hundred rifles and ten thousand cartridges in +the hands of your people in ten days' time." + +"Thank you, Mr. Lapierre. I don't need your guns." + +The man made a gesture of impatience. "If you choose to ignore MacNair, +you must, at least, be prepared to handle the Indians who will crowd your +counter like wolves when they hear you are underselling the H.B.C. When +you explain that only those who are members of your school may trade at +your post, you will be swamped with enrolments. You cannot teach the +whole North. + +"Those that you will be forced to turn away--what will they do? They +will not understand. Instead of returning to their teepees, their nets, +and their traplines, they will hang about your post, growing gaunter and +hungrier with the passing of the days. And the hunger that gnaws at +their bellies will arouse the latent lawlessness of their hearts, and +then--if MacNair has not already struck, he will strike then. For +MacNair knows Indians and the workings of the Indian mind. He knows how +the sullen hatred of their souls may be fanned into a mighty flame. His +Indians will circulate among the hungry horde, and the banks of the +Yellow Knife will be swept bare. MacNair will have struck. And with +such consummate skill will his hand be disguised, that not the faintest +breath of suspicion will point toward himself." + +"I shall sell to all alike, while my goods last, whether they are members +of my school or not----" + +"That will be even worse than----" + +"It seems you always think of the worst thing that could possibly +happen," smiled the girl. + +"'To fear the worst, oft cures the worst,'" quoted Lapierre. + +"'Don't cross a bridge 'til you get to it' is not so classic, perhaps, +but it saves a lot of needless worry." + +"'Foresight is better than hindsight' is equally unclassic, and +infinitely better generalship. Bridges crossed at the last moment are +generally crossed from the wrong end, I have noticed." The man leaned +toward her and looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, Miss Elliston--can't +you see--I am thinking of your welfare--of your safety; I have known you +but a short time, as acquaintance is reckoned, but already you have +become more to me than----" + +Chloe interrupted him with a gesture. + +"Don't--please--I----" + +Lapierre ignored the protest, and, seizing her hand in both his own, +spoke rapidly. "I will say it! I have known it from the moment of our +first meeting. I love you! And I shall win you--and together we +will----" + +"Oh, don't--don't--not--now--please!" + +The man bowed and released the hand. "I can wait," he said gravely. +"But please--for your own good--take my advice. I know the North. I was +born in the North, and am of the North. I have sought only to help you. +Why do you refuse to profit by my experience? Must you endure what I +have endured to learn what I offer freely to tell you? I shudder to +think of It. The knowledge gleaned by experience may be the most +lasting, but it is dearly purchased, and at a great loss--always." The +man's voice was very earnest, and Chloe detected a note of mild reproach. +She hastened to reply. + +"I _have_ profited by your advice--have learned much from what you have +told me. I am under obligation to you. I appreciate your interest +in--in my work, and am indeed grateful for what you have done to further +it. But there are some things, I suppose, one _must_ learn by +experience. I may be silly and headstrong. I may be wrong. But I stand +ready to pay the price. The loss will be mine. See!" she cried +excitedly, "they are rolling up the logs for the store." + +"Yes," answered the man gravely, "I bow to your wishes in the matter of +your buildings. If you refuse to build a stockade we may erect a few +more buildings--but as few as you can possibly manage with, Miss +Elliston. I must hasten southward." + +Chloe studied for some moments. "The store"--she checked them off upon +her fingers--"the schoolhouse, two bunkhouses, we can leave off the +bathrooms, the river and the lake will serve until winter." + +Lapierre nodded, and the girl continued. "We can do without the laundry +and the carpenter-shop, and the individual cabins. The Indians can set +up their teepees in the clearing, and build the cabins and the other +buildings later. But I _would_ like a little cottage for myself, and +Miss Penny, and Lena. We _could_ make three rooms do. Can we have three +rooms?" + +Lapierre bowed low. "It shall be as you say," he replied. "And now, if +you will excuse me, I shall see to it that these _canaille_ work. LeFroy +they do not fear." + +He turned to go, and at that moment Chloe Elliston saw a look of terror +flash into his eyes. Saw his fingers clutch and grope uncertainly at the +gay scarf at his throat. Saw the muscles of his face work painfully. +Saw his colour fade from rich tan to sickly yellow. An inarticulate, +gurgling sound escaped his lips, and his eyes stared in horror toward a +point beyond and behind her. + +She turned swiftly and gazed into the face of a man who had approached +unnoticed from the direction of the river, and stood a few paces distant +with his eyes fixed upon her. As their glances met the man's gaze +continued unflinching, and the soft-brimmed Stetson remained on his head. +Her slender fingers clenched into her palms and, unconsciously, her chin +thrust forward--for she knew intuitively that the man was "Brute" MacNair. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BRUTE MACNAIR + +Estimates are formed, in a far greater measure than most of us care to +admit, upon first impressions. Manifestly shallow and embryonic though +we admit them to be, our first impressions crystallize, in nine cases +out of ten, into our fixed or permanent opinions. And, after all, the +reason for this absurdity is simple--egotism. + +Our opinions, based upon first impressions--and we rarely pause to +analyse first impressions--have become _our opinions_, the result, as +we fondly imagine, of our judgment. Our judgment must be +right--because it is our judgment. Therefore, unconsciously or +consciously, every subsequent impression is bent to bolster up and +sustain that judgment. We hate to be wrong. We hate to admit, even to +ourselves, that we are wrong. + +Strange, isn't it? How often we are right (permit the smile) in our +estimate of people? + +When Chloe Elliston turned to face MacNair among the stumps of the +sunlit clearing, her opinion of the man had already been formed. He +was Brute MacNair, one to be hated, despised. To be fought, conquered, +and driven out of the North--for the good of the North. His influence +was a malignant ulcer--a cancerous plague-spot, whose evil tentacles, +reaching hidden and unseen, would slowly but surely fasten themselves +upon the civilization of the North--sap its vitality--poison its blood. + +In the flash of her first glance the girl's eyes took in every +particular and detail of him. She noted the huge frame, broad, yet +lean with the gaunt leanness of health, and endurance, and physical +strength. The sinew-corded, bronzed hands that clenched slowly as his +glance rested for a moment upon the face of Lapierre. The +weather-tanned neck that rose, columnlike, from the open shirt-throat. +The well-poised head. The prominent, high-bridged nose. The lantern +jaw, whose rugged outline was but half-concealed by the roughly trimmed +beard of inky blackness. And, the most dominant feature of all, the +compelling magnetism of the steel-grey eyes of him--eyes, deep-set +beneath heavy black brows that curved and met--eyes that stabbed, and +bored, and probed, as if to penetrate to the ultimate motive. Hard +eyes they were, whose directness of gaze spoke at once fearlessness and +intolerance of opposition; spoke, also, of combat, rather than +diplomacy; of the honest smashing of foes, rather than dissimulation. + +Ail this the girl saw in the first moments of their meeting. She saw, +too, that the eyes held a hostile gleam, and that she need expect from +their owner no sympathy--no deference of sex. If war were to be +between them, it would be a man's war, waged upon man's terms, in a +man's country. No quarter would be given--Chloe's lips pressed +tight--nor would any be asked. + +The moments lengthened into an appreciable space of time and the man +remained motionless, regarding her with that probing, searching stare. +Lapierre he ignored after the first swift glance. Instinctively the +girl knew that the man had no intention of being deliberately or +studiously rude in standing thus in her presence with head covered, and +eyeing her with those steel-grey, steel-hard eyes. Nevertheless, his +attitude angered her, the more because she knew he did not intend to. +And in this she was right--MacNair stared because he was silently +taking her measure, and his hat remained upon his head because he knew +of no reason why it should not remain upon his head. + +Chloe was the first to speak, and in her voice was more than a trace of +annoyance. + +"Well, Mr. Mind-Reader, have you figured me out--why I am here, and----" + +"No." The word boomed deeply from the man's throat, smashing the +question that was intended to carry the sting of sarcasm. "Except that +it is for no good--though you doubtless think it is for great good." + +"Indeed!" The girl laughed a trifle sharply. "And who, then, is the +judge?" + +"I am." The calm assurance of the man fanned her rising anger, and, +when she answered, her voice was low and steady, with the tonelessness +of forced control. + +"And your name, you Oligarch of the Far Outland? May I presume to ask +your name?" + +"Why ask? My name you already know. And upon the word of yon scum, +you have judged. By the glint o' hate, as you looked into my eyes, I +know--for one does not so welcome a stranger beyond the outposts. But, +since you have asked, I will tell you; my name is MacNair--Robert +MacNair, by my christening--Bob MacNair, in the speech of the +country----" + +"And, _Brute_ MacNair, upon the Athabasca?" + +"Yes. Brute MacNair--upon the Athabasca--and the Slave, and +Mackenzie--and in the haunts of the whiskey-runners, and 'Fool' +MacNair--in Winnipeg." + +"And among the oppressed and the down-trodden? Among those whose +heritage of freedom you have torn from them? What do they call +you--those whom you have forced into serfdom?" For a fleeting instant +the girl caught the faintest flicker, a tiny twinkle of amusement, in +the steely eyes. But, when the man answered, his eyes were steady. + +"_They_ call me friend." + +"Is their ignorance so abysmal?" + +"They have scant time to learn from books--my Indians. They work." + +"But, a year from now, when they have begun to learn, what will they +call you then--_your_ Indians?" + +"A year from now--two years---ten years--my Indians will call +me--friend." + +Chloe was about to speak, but MacNair interrupted her. "I have scant +time for parley. I was starting for Mackay Lake, but when Old Elk +reported two of yon scum's satellites hanging about, I dropped down the +river. By your words it's a school you will be building. If it were a +post I would have to take you more seriously----" + +"There will be a--" Chloe felt the warning touch of Lapierre's finger +at her back and ceased abruptly. MacNair continued, as if unmindful of +the interruption. + +"Build your school, by all means. 'Tis a spot well chosen by yon +devil's spawn, and for his own ends. By your eyes you are honest in +purpose--a fool's purpose--and a hare-brained carrying out of it. You +are being used as a tool by Lapierre. You will not believe this--not +yet. Later--perhaps, when it is too late--but, that is your +affair--not mine. At the proper time I will crush Lapierre, and if you +go down in the crash you will have yourself to thank. I have warned +you. Yon snake has poisoned your mind against me. In your eyes I am +foredamned--and well damned--which causes me no concern, and you, no +doubt, much satisfaction. + +"Build your school, but heed well my words. You'll not tamper, one way +or another, with my Indians. One hundred and seventy miles north of +here, upon Snare Lake, is my post. My Indians pass up and down the +Yellow Knife. They are to pass unquestioned, unmolested, unproselyted. +Confine your foolishness to the southward and I shall not +interfere--carry it northward, and you shall hear from me. + +"Should you find yourself in danger from your enemies--or, your +_friends_"--he shot a swift glance toward Lapierre, who had remained a +pace behind the girl--"send for me. Good day." + +Chloe Elliston was furious. She had listened in a sort of dumb rage as +the man's words stung, and stung again. MacNair's uncouth manner, his +blunt brutality of speech, his scornful, even contemptuous reference to +her work, and, most of all, his utter disregard of her, struck her to +the very depths. As MacNair turned to go, she stayed him with a voice +trembling with fury. + +"Do you imagine, for an instant, I would stoop to seek _your_ +protection? I would die first! You have had things your own way too +long, Mr. Brute MacNair! You think yourself secure, in your smug +egotism. But the end is in sight. Your petty despotism is doomed. +You have hoodwinked the authorities, bribed the police, connived with +the Hudson Bay Company, bullied and browbeaten the Indians, cheated +them out of their birthright of land and liberty, and have forced them +into a peonage that has filled your pockets with gold." + +She paused in her vehement outburst and glared defiantly at MacNair, as +if to challenge a denial. But the man remained silent, and Chloe felt +her face flush as the shadow of a twinkle played for a fleeting instant +in the depths of the hard eyes. She fancied, even, that the lips +behind the black beard smiled--ever so slightly, + +"Oh, you needn't laugh! You think because I'm a woman you will be able +to do as you please with me----" + +"I did not laugh," answered the man gravely. "Why should I laugh? You +take yourself seriously. You believe, even, that the things you have +just spoken are true. They _must_ be true. Has not Pierre Lapierre +_told_ you they are true? And, why should the fact that you are a +woman cause me to believe I could influence you? If an issue is at +stake, as you believe, what has sex to do with it? I have known no +women, except the squaws and the _kloochmen_ of the natives. + +"You said, 'you think, because I am a woman, you will be able to do as +you please with me.' Are women, then, less honest than men? I do not +believe that. In my life I have known no women, but I have read of +them in books. I have not been to any school, but was taught by my +father, who, I think, was a very wise man. I learned from him, and +from the books, of which he left a great number. I have always +believed women to be uncommonly like men--very good, or very bad, or +very commonplace because they were afraid to be either. But, I have +not read that they are less honest than men." + +"Thank you! Being a woman, I suppose I should consider myself +flattered. A year from this time you will know more about women---at +least, about _me_. You will have learned that I will not be +hoodwinked. I cannot be bribed. Nor can my silence, or acquiescence +in your villainy be bought. I will not connive with you. And you +cannot browbeat, nor bully, nor cheat me." + +"Yes?" + +"Yes. And of one thing I am glad. I shall expect no consideration at +your hands because I am a woman. You will fight me as you would fight +a man." + +"Fight you? Why should I fight you? I have no quarrel with you. If +you choose to build a school here, or even a trading-post, I have no +disposition--no right to gainsay you. You will soon tire of your +experiment, and no harm will be done--the North will be unchanged. You +are nothing to me. I care nothing for your opinion of me--considering +its source, I am surprised it is not even worse." + +"Impossible! And do not think that I have not had corroborative +evidence. Ocular evidence of your brutal treatment of Mr. +Lapierre--and did I not see with my own eyes the destruction of your +whiskey?" + +"What nonsense are you speaking now? My whiskey! Woman--never yet +have I owned any whiskey." + +Chloe sneered--"And the Indians--do they not hate you?" + +"Yes, those Indians do--and well they may. Most of them have crossed +my path at some time or other. And most of them will cross it +again--at Lapierre's instigation. Some of them I shall have to kill." + +"You speak lightly of murder." + +"Murder?" + +"Yes, murder! The murder of poor, ignorant savages. It is an ugly +word, isn't it? But why dissimulate? At least, we can call a spade a +spade. These men are human beings. Their right to life and happiness +is as good as yours or mine, and their souls are as----" + +"Black as hell! Woman, from LeFroy down, you have collected about you +as pretty a gang of cut-throats and outlaws as could have been found in +all the North. Lapierre has seen to that. I do not envy you your +school. But as long as you can be turned to their profit your personal +safety will be assured. They are too cunning, by far, to kill the +goose that lays the golden egg." + +"What a pretty speech! Your polish--your _savoir vivre_, does you +credit, I am sure." + +"I do not understand what you are saying, but----" + +"There are many things you do not understand now that perhaps you will +later. For instance, in the matter of the Indians--_your_ Indians, I +believe you call them--you have warned, or commanded, possibly, would +be the better word----" + +"Yes," interrupted the man, "that is the better word----" + +"Have commanded me not to--what was it you said--molest, question, or +proselyte them." + +MacNair nodded. "I said that." + +"And I say _this_!" flashed the girl. "I shall use every means in my +power to induce your Indians to attend my school. I shall teach them +that they are free. That they owe allegiance and servitude to no man. +That the land they inhabit is their land. That they are their own +masters. I shall offer them education, that they may be able to +compete on equal terms with the white men when this land ceases to lie +beyond the outposts. I shall show them that they are being robbed and +cheated and forced into ignominious serfdom. And mark you this: if I +can't reach them upon the river, I shall go to your village, or post, +or fort, or whatever you call your Snare Lake rendezvous, and I shall +point out to them their wrongs. I shall appeal to their better +natures--to their manhood, and womanhood. That's what I think of your +command! I do not fear you! I _despise_ you!" + +MacNair nodded, gravely. + +"I have already learned that women are as honest as men--more so, even, +than most men. You are honest, and you are earnest. You believe in +yourself, too. But you are more of a fool than I thought--more of a +fool than I thought any one could be. Lapierre is a great fool--but he +is neither honest nor earnest. He is just a fool--a wise fool, with +the cunning and vices of the wolf, but with none of the wolf's lean +virtues. You are an honest fool. You are like a young moose-calf, +who, because he happens to be born into the world, thinks the world was +made for him to be born into. + +"Let us say the moose-calf was born upon a great mountain--a mountain +whose sides are crossed and recrossed by moose-trails--paths that wind +in and out among the trees, stamped by the hoofs of older and wiser +moose. Upon these paths the moose-calf tries his wobbly legs, and one +day finds himself gazing out upon a plain where grass is. He has no +use for grass--does not even know what grass is for. Only he sees no +paths out there. The grass covers a quagmire, but of quagmires the +moose-calf knows nothing, having been born upon a mountain. + +"Being a fool, the moose-calf soon tires of the beaten paths. He +ventures downward toward the plain. A wolf, skulking through the scrub +at the foot of the mountain, encounters, by chance, the moose-calf. +The calf is fat. But, the wolf is cunning. He dares not harm the +moose-calf hard by the trails of the mountain. He becomes friendly, +and the fool moose-calf tells the wolf where he is bound. The wolf +offers to accompany him, and the moose-calf is glad--here is a +friend--one who is wiser than the moose-kind, for he fears not to +venture into the country of no trails. + +"Between the mountain and the plain stands a tree. This tree the wolf +hates. Many squirrels work about its roots, and these squirrels are +fatter than the squirrels of the scrub, for the tree feeds them. But, +when the wolf would pounce upon them, they seek safety in the tree. +The moose-calf--the poor fool moose-calf--comes to this tree, and, +finding no paths curving around its base, becomes enraged because the +tree does not step aside and yield the right of way. He will charge +the tree! He does not know that the tree has been growing for many +years, and has become deeply rooted--immovable. The wolf looks on and +smiles. If the moose-calf butts the tree down, the wolf will get the +squirrels--and the calf. If the calf does not, the wolf will get the +calf." + +MacNair ceased speaking and turned abruptly toward the river. + +"My!" Chloe Elliston exclaimed. "Really, you are delightful, Mr. Brute +MacNair. During the half-hour or more of our acquaintance you have +called me, among other things, a fool, a goose, and a moose-calf. I +repeat that you are delightful, and honest, shall I say? No; +candid--for I know that you are not honest. But do tell me the rest of +the story. Don't leave it like The Lady or the Tiger. How will it +end? Are you a prophet, or merely an allegorist?" + +MacNair, who was again facing her, answered without a smile. "I do not +know about the lady or the tiger, nor of what happened to either. If +they were pitted against each other, my bet would be laid on the tiger, +though my sympathy might be with the lady. I am not a prophet. I +cannot tell you the end of the story. Maybe the fool moose-calf will +butt its brains out against the trunk of the tree. That would be no +fault of the tree. The tree was there first, and was minding its own +business. Maybe the calf will butt and get hurt, and scamper for home. +Maybe it will succeed in eluding the fangs of the wolf, and reach its +mountain in safety. In such case it will have learned something. + +"Maybe it will butt and butt against the tree until it dislodges a limb +from high among the branches, and the limb will fall to the ground and +crush, shall we say--the waiting wolf? And, maybe the calf will butt, +learn that the tree is immovable, swallow its hurt, and pass on, giving +the tree a wide berth--pass on into the quagmire, with the wolf licking +his chops, as grinning, he points out the way." + +Chloe, in spite of herself, was intensely interested. + +"But," she asked, "you are quite sure the tree is immovable?" + +"Quite sure." + +"Suppose, however, that this particular tree is rotten--rotten to the +heart? That the very roots that hold it in place are rotten? And that +the moose-calf butts 'til he butts it down--what then?" + +There was a gleam of admiration in MacNair's eyes as he answered: + +"If the tree is rotten it will fall. But it will fall to the mighty +push o' the winds o' God--and not to the puny butt of a moose-calf!" +Chloe Elliston was silent. The man was speaking again. "Good day to +you, madam, or miss, or whatever one respectfully calls a woman. As I +told you, I have known no women. I have lived always in the North. +Death robbed me of my mother before I was old enough to remember her. +The North, you see, is hard and relentless, even with those who know +her--and love her." + +The girl felt a sudden surge of sympathy for this strange, outspoken +man of the Northland. She knew that the man had spoken, with no +thought of arousing sympathy, of the dead mother he had never known. +And in his voice was a note, not merely of deep regret, but of sadness. + +"I am sorry," she managed to murmur. + +"What?" + +"About your mother, I mean." + +The man nodded. "Yes. She was a good woman. My father told me of her +often. He loved her." + +The simplicity of the man puzzled Chloe. She was at a loss to reply. + +"I think--I believe--a moment ago, you asked my name." + +"No." + +"Oh!" The lines about the girl's mouth tightened. "Then I'll tell +you. I am Chloe Elliston--_Miss_ Chloe Elliston. The name means +nothing to you--now. A year hence it will mean much." + +"Aye, maybe. I'll not say it won't. More like, though, it will be +forgot in half the time. The North has scant use for the passing whims +o' women!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MASTER MIND + +After the visit of MacNair, Chloe noticed a marked diminution in the +anxiety of Lapierre to resume his interrupted journey. True, he drove +the Indians mercilessly from daylight till dark in the erection of the +buildings, but his air of tense expectancy was gone, and he ceased to +dart short, quick glances into the North, and to scan the upper reach +of the river. + +The Indians, too, had changed. They toiled more stolidly now with +apathetic ears for Lapierre's urging, where before they had worked in +feverish haste, with their eyes upon the edges of the clearing. It was +obviously patent that the canoemen shared Lapierre's fear and hatred of +MacNair. + +In the late afternoon of the twelfth day after the rolling of the first +log into place, Chloe accompanied Lapierre upon a tour of inspection of +the completed buildings. The man had done his work well. The +school-house and the barracks with the dining-room and kitchen were +comfortably and solidly built; entirely sufficient for present needs +and requirements. But the girl wondered at the trading-post and its +appendant store-house they were fully twice the size she would have +considered necessary, and constructed as to withstand a siege. +Lapierre had built a fort. + +"Excellent buildings; and solid as the Rock of Gibraltar, Miss +Elliston," smiled the quarter-breed, as with a wave of his hand he +indicated the interior of the trading-room. + +"But, they are so big!" exclaimed the girl, as her glance swept the +spacious fur lofts, and the ample areas for the storing of supplies. +She was concerned only with the size of the buildings. But her wonder +would have increased could she have seen the rows of loopholes that +pierced the thick walls--loopholes crammed with moss against the cold, +and with their openings concealed by cleverly fitted pieces of bark. +Lapierre's smile deepened. + +"Remember, you told me you intend to sell to all alike, while your +goods last. I know what that will mean. It will mean that you will +find yourself called upon to furnish the supplies for the inhabitants +of several thousand square miles of territory. Indians will travel far +to obtain a bargain. They look only at the price--never at the quality +of the goods. That fact enables us free-traders to live. We sell +cheaper than the H.B.C.; but, frankly, our goods are cheaper. The +bargains are much more apparent than real. But, if I understand your +position, you intend to sell goods that are up to H.B.C. standard at +actual cost?" + +Chloe nodded: "Certainly." + +"Very well, then you will find that these buildings which look so large +and commodious to you now, must be crowded to the ceiling with your +goods, while the walls of your fur lofts will fairly bulge with their +weight of riches. Fur is the 'cash' of the North, and the trader must +make ample provision for its storage. There are no banks in the +wilderness; and the fur lofts are the vaults of the traders." + +"But, I don't want to deal in fur!" objected the girl. "I--since you +have told me of the terrible cruelty of the trappers, I _hate fur_! I +want nothing to do with it. In fact, I shall do everything in my power +to discountenance and discourage the trapping." Lapierre cleared his +throat sharply--coughed--cleared it again. Discourage trapping--north +of sixty! Had he heard aright? He swallowed hard, mumbled an apology +anent the inhalation of a gnat, and answered in all seriousness. + +"A worthy object, Miss Elliston--a very worthy object; but one that +will require time to consummate. At present the taking of fur is the +business of the North. I may say, the only business of thousands of +savages whose very existence depends upon their skill with the traps. +Fur is their one source of livelihood. Therefore, you must accept the +condition as it exists. Think, if you refused to accept fur in +exchange for your goods, what it would mean--the certain and absolute +failure of your school from the moment of its inception. The Indians +could not grasp your point of view. You would be shunned for one +demented. Your goods would rot upon your shelves; for the simple +reason that the natives would have no means of buying them. No, Miss +Elliston, you must take their fur until such time as you succeed in +devising some other means by which these people may earn their living." + +"You are right," agreed Chloe. "Of course, I must deal in fur--for the +present. Reform is the result of years of labour. I must be patient. +I was thinking only of the cruelty of it." + +"They have never been taught," said Lapierre with a touch of sadness in +his tone. "And, while we are on the subject, allow me to advise you to +retain LeFroy as your chief trader. He is an excellent man, is Louis +LeFroy, and has had no little experience." + +"Do you think he will stay?" eagerly asked the girl. "I should like to +retain, not only LeFroy but a half-dozen others." + +"It shall be as you wish. I shall speak to LeFroy and select also the +pick of the crew. They will be glad of a steady job. The others I +shall take with me. I must gather my fur from its various _caches_ and +freight it to the railway." + +"You are going to the railway! To civilization?" + +"Yes, but it will take me three weeks to make ready my outfit. And in +this connection I may be of further service to you. I must depart from +here tonight. Instruct LeFroy to make out his list of supplies for the +winter. Give him a free hand and tell him to fill the store-rooms. +The goods you have brought with you are by no means sufficient. Three +weeks from today, if I do not visit you in the meantime, have him meet +me at Fort Resolution, and I shall be glad to make your purchases for +you, at Athabasca Landing and Edmonton." + +"You have been very good to me. How can I ever thank you?" cried the +girl, impulsively extending her hand. Lapierre took the hand, bowed +over it, and--was it fancy, or did his lips brush her finger-tips? +Chloe withdrew the hand, laughing in slight confusion. To her surprise +she realized she was not in the least annoyed. "How can I thank you," +she repeated, "for--for throwing aside your own work to attend to mine?" + +"Do not speak of thanking me." Once more the man's eyes seemed to burn +into her soul, "I love you! And one day my work will be your work and +your work will be mine. It is I who am indebted to you for bringing a +touch of heaven into this drab hell of Northern brutishness. For +bringing to me a breath of the bright world I have not known since +Montreal--and the student days, long past. And--ah--more than +that--something I have never known--love. And, it is you who are +bringing a ray of pure light to lighten the darkness of my people." + +Chloe was deeply touched. "But I--I thought," she faltered, "when we +were discussing the buildings that day, you spoke as if you did not +really care for the Indians. And--and you made them work so hard----" + +"To learn to work would be their salvation!" exclaimed the man. "And I +beg you to forget what I said then. I feared for your safety. When +you refused to allow me to build the stockade, I could think only of +your being at the mercy of Brute MacNair. I tried to frighten you into +allowing me to build it. Even now, if you say the word----" + +Chloe interrupted him with a laugh. "No, I am not afraid of +MacNair--really I am not. And you have already neglected your own +affairs too long." + +The man assented. "If I am to get my furs to the railway, do my own +trading, and yours, and return before the lake freezes, I must, indeed, +be on my way." + +"You will wait while I write some letters? And you will post them for +me?" + +Lapierre bowed. "As many as you wish," he said, and together they +walked to the girl's cabin whose quaint, rustic veranda overlooked the +river. The veranda was an addition of Lapierre's, and the cabin had +five rooms, instead of three. + +The quarter-breed waited, whistling softly a light French air, while +Chloe wrote her letters. He breathed deeply of the warm spruce-laden +breeze, slapped lazily at mosquitoes, and gazed at the setting sun +between half-closed lids. Pierre Lapierre was happy. + +"Things are coming my way," he muttered. "With a year's stock in that +warehouse--and LeFroy to handle it--I guess the Indians won't pick up +many bargains--my people!--damn them! How I hate them. And as for +MacNair--lucky Vermilion thought of painting _his_ name on that +booze--I hated to smash it--but it paid. It was the one thing needed +to make me solid with _her_. And I've got time to run in another batch +if I hurry--got to get those rifles into the loft, too. When MacNair +hits, he hits hard." + +Chloe appeared at the door with her letters. Lapierre took them, and +again bowed low over her hand. This time the girl was sure his lips +touched her finger-tips. He released the hand and stepped to the +ground. + +"Good-bye," he said, "I shall try my utmost to pay you a visit before I +depart for the southward, but if I fail, remember to send LeFroy to me +at Fort Resolution." + +"I will remember. Good-bye--_bon voyage_----" + +"_Et prompt retour?_" The man's lips smiled, and his eyes flashed the +question. + +"_Et prompt retour--certainement!_" answered the girl as, with a wide +sweep of his hat, the quarter-breed turned and made his way toward the +camp of the Indians, which was located in a spruce thicket a short +distance above the clearing. As he disappeared in the timber, Chloe +felt a sudden sinking of the heart; a strange sense of desertion, of +loneliness possessed her as she gazed into the deepening shadows of the +wall of the clearing. She fumed impatiently. + +"Why should I care?" she muttered, "I never laid eyes on him until two +weeks ago, and besides, he's--he's an _Indian_! And yet--he's a +gentleman. He has been very kind to me--very considerate. He is only +a quarter-Indian. Many of the very best families have Indian blood in +their veins--even boast of it. I--I'm a _fool_!" she exclaimed, and +passed quickly into the house. + + +Pierre Lapierre was a man, able, shrewd, unscrupulous. The son of a +French factor of the Hudson Bay Company and his half-breed wife, he was +sent early to school, where he remained to complete his college course; +for it was the desire of his father that the son should engage in some +profession for which his education fitted him. + +But the blood of the North was in his veins. The call of the North +lured him into the North, and he returned to the trading-post of his +father, where he was given a position as clerk and later appointed +trader and assigned to a post of his own far to the northward. + +While the wilderness captivated and entranced him, the humdrum life of +a trader wearied him. He longed for excitement--action. + +During the several years of his service with the great fur company he +assiduously studied conditions, storing up in his mind a fund of +information that later was to stand him in good stead. He studied the +trade, the Indians, the country. He studied the men of the Mounted, +and smugglers, and whiskey-runners, and free-traders. And it was in a +brush with these latter that he overstepped the bounds which, under the +changed conditions, even the agents of the great Company might not go. + +Chafing under the loss of trade by reason of an independent post that +had been built upon the shore of his lake some ten miles to the +southward, his wild Metis blood called for action and, hastily +summoning a small band of Indians, he attacked the independents. +Incidentally, the free-traders' post was burned, one of the traders +killed, and the other captured and sent upon the _longue traverse_. In +some unaccountable manner, after suffering untold hardships, the man +won through to civilization and promptly had Pierre Lapierre brought to +book. + +The Company stood loyally between its trader and the prison bars; but +the old order had changed in the Northland. Young Lapierre's action +was condemned and he was dismissed from the Company's service with a +payment of three years' unearned salary whereupon, he promptly turned +free-trader, and his knowledge of the methods of the H.B.C., the +Indians, and the country, made largely for success. + +The life of the free-trader satisfied his longing for travel and +adventure, which his life as a post-trader had not. But it did not +satisfy his innate craving for excitement. Therefore, he cast about to +enlarge his field of activity. He became a whiskey-runner. His +profits increased enormously, and he gradually included smuggling in +his _repertoire_, and even timber thieving, and cattle-rustling upon +the ranges along the international boundary. + +At the time of his meeting with Chloe Elliston he was at the head of an +organized band of criminals whose range of endeavour extended over +hundreds of thousands of square miles, and the diversity of whose +crimes was limited only by the index of the penal code. + +Pierre Lapierre was a Napoleon of organization--a born leader of men. +He chose his liegemen shrewdly--outlaws, renegades, Indians, breeds, +trappers, canoemen, scowmen, packers, claim-jumpers, gamblers, +smugglers, cattle-rustlers, timber thieves--and these he dominated and +ruled absolutely. + +Without exception, these men feared him--his authority over them was +unquestioned. Because they had confidence in his judgment and cunning, +and because under his direction they made more money, and made it +easier, and at infinitely less risk, than they ever made by playing a +lone hand, they accepted his domination cheerfully. And such was his +disposition of the men who were the component parts of his system of +criminal efficiency, that few, if any, were there among them who could, +even if he so desired, have furnished evidence that would have +seriously incriminated the leader. + +The men who ran whiskey across the line, _cached_ it. Other men, +unknown to them, disguised it as innocent freight and delivered it to +the scowmen. The scowmen turned it over to others who, for all they +knew, were bona fide settlers or free-traders; and from their _cache_, +the canoemen carried it far into the wilderness and either stored it in +some inaccessible rendezvous or _cached_ it where still others would +come and distribute it among the Indians. + +Each division undoubtedly suspected the others, but none but the leader +_knew_. And, as it was with the whiskey-running, so was it with each +of his various undertakings. Religiously, Pierre Lapierre followed the +scriptural injunction; "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand +doeth." He confided in no man. And few, indeed, were the defections +among his retainers. A few had rebelled, as Vermilion had +rebelled--and with like result. The man dismissed from Lapierre's +service entered no other. + +Moreover, he invariably contrived to implicate one whom he intended to +use, in some crime of a graver nature than he would be called upon to +commit in the general run of his duties. This crime he would stage in +some fastness where its detection by an officer of the Mounted was +exceedingly unlikely; and most commonly consisted in the murder of an +Indian, whose weighted body would be lowered to the bottom of a +convenient lake or river. Lapierre witnesses would appear and the man +was irrevocably within the toil. Had he chosen, Pierre Lapierre could +have lowered a grappling hook unerringly upon a dozen weighted +skeletons. + +Over the head of the recruit now hung an easily proven charge of +murder. If during his future activities as whiskey-runner, smuggler, +or in whatever particular field of endeavour he was assigned, plans +should miscarry--an arrest be made--this man would take his prison +sentence in silence rather than seek to implicate Lapierre, who with a +word could summon the witnesses that would swear the hemp about his +neck. + +The system worked. Now and again plans did miscarry--arrests were made +by the Mounted, men were caught "with the goods," or arrested upon +evidence that even Lapierre's intricate alibi scheme could not refute. +But, upon conviction, the unlucky prisoner always accepted his +sentence--for at his shoulder stalked a spectre, and in his heart was +the fear lest the thin lips of Pierre Lapierre would speak. + +With such consummate skill and finesse _did_ Lapierre plot, however, +and with such Machiavelian cunning and _eclat_ were his plans carried +out, that few failed. And those that did were credited by the +authorities to individual or sporadic acts, rather than to the work of +an intricate organization presided over by a master mind. + +The gang numbered, all told, upward of two hundred of the hardest +characters upon the frontier. Only Lapierre knew its exact strength, +but each member knew that if he did not "run straight"--if he, by word +or act or deed, sought to implicate an accomplice--his life would be +worth just exactly the price of "the powder to blow him to hell." + +A few there were outside the organization who suspected Pierre +Lapierre--but only a few: an officer or two of the Mounted and a few +factors of the H.B.C. But these could prove nothing. They bided their +time. One man _knew_ him for what he was. One, in all the North, as +powerful in his way as Lapierre was in his. The one man who had spies +in Lapierre's employ, and who did not fear him. The one man Pierre +Lapierre feared--Bob MacNair. And he, too, bided his time. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A SHOT IN THE NIGHT + +As Lapierre made his way to the camp of the Indians he pondered deeply. +For Lapierre was troubled. The fact that MacNair had twice come upon +him unexpectedly within the space of a month caused him grave concern. +He did not know that it was entirely by chance that MacNair had found +him, an unwelcome sojourner at Fort Rae. Accusations and +recriminations had passed between them, with the result that MacNair, +rough, bluff, and ready to fight at any time, had pounded the +quarter-breed to within an inch of his life, and then, to the +undisguised delight of the men of the H.B.C., had dragged him out and +pitched him ignominiously into the lake. + +Either could have killed the other then and there. But each knew that +to have done so, as the result of a personal quarrel, would have been +the worst move he could possibly have made. And the forebearance with +which MacNair fought and Lapierre suffered was each man's measure of +greatness. MacNair went about his business, and to Lapierre came +Chenoine with his story of the girl and the plot of Vermilion, and +Lapierre, forgetting MacNair for the moment, made a dash for the Slave +River. + +For years Lapierre and MacNair had been at loggerheads. Each +recognized in the other a foe of no mean ability. Each had sworn to +drive the other out of the North. And each stood at the head of a +powerful organization which could be depended upon to fight to the last +gasp when the time came to "lock horns" in the final issue. Both +leaders realized that the show-down could not be long delayed--a year, +perhaps--two years--it would make no difference. The clash was +inevitable. Neither sought to dodge the crisis, nor did either seek to +hasten it. But each knew that events were shaping themselves, the +stage was set, and the drama of the wilds was wearing to its final +scene. + +From the moment of his meeting with Chloe Elliston, Lapierre had +realized the value of an alliance with her against MacNair. And being +a man whose creed it was to turn every possible circumstance to his own +account, he set about to win her co-operation. When, during the course +of their first conversation, she casually mentioned that she could +command millions if she wanted them, his immediate interest in MacNair +cooled appreciably--not that MacNair was to be forgotten--merely that +his undoing was to be deferred for a season, while he, the Pierre +Lapierre once more of student days, played an old game--a game long +forgot in the press of sterner life, but one at which he once excelled. + +"A game of hearts," the man had smiled to himself--"a game in which the +risk is nothing and the stakes---- With millions one may accomplish +much in the wilderness, or retire into smug respectability--who knows? +Or, losing, if worse comes to worst, a lady who can command millions, +held prisoner, should be worth dickering for. Ah, yes, dear lady! By +all means, you shall be helped to Christianize the North! To educate +the Indians--how did she say it? 'So that they may come and receive +that which is theirs of right'--fah! These women!" + +While the scows rushed northward his plans had been laid--plans that +included a masterstroke against MacNair and the placing of the girl +absolutely within his power in one move. And so Pierre Lapierre had +accompanied Chloe to the mouth of the Yellow Knife, selected the site +for her school, and generously remained upon the ground to direct the +erection of her buildings. + +Up to that point his plans had carried with but two minor frustrations: +he was disappointed in not having been allowed to build a stockade, and +he had been forced prematurely to show his hand to MacNair. The first +was the mere accident of a woman's whim, and had been offset to a great +extent in the construction of the trading-post and store-house. + +The second, however, was of graver importance and deeper significance. +While the girl's faith in him had, apparently, remained unshaken by her +interview with MacNair, MacNair himself would be on his guard. +Lapierre ground his teeth with rage at the Scotchman's accurate +comprehension of the situation, and he feared that the man's words +might raise a suspicion in Chloe's mind; a fear that was in a great +measure allayed by her eager acceptance of his offer of assistance in +the matter of supplies, and--had he not already sown the seeds of a +deeper regard? Once she had become his wife! The black eyes glittered +as the man threaded the trail toward the camp, where his own tent +showed white amid the smoke-blackened teepees of the Indians. + +The thing, however, that caused him the greatest uneasiness was the +suspicion that there was a leak in his system. How had MacNair known +that he would be at Fort Rae? Why had he come down the Yellow Knife? +And why had the two Indian scouts failed to report the man's coming? +Only one of the Indians had returned at all, and his report that the +other had been killed by one of MacNair's retainers had seemed +unconvincing. However, Lapierre had accepted the story, but all +through the days of the building he had secretly watched him. The man +was one of his trusted Indians--so was the one he reported killed. + +Upon the outskirts of the camp Lapierre halted--thinking. LeFroy had +also watched--he must see LeFroy. Picking his way among the teepees, +he advanced to his own tent. Groups of Indians and half-breeds, +hunched about their fires, were eating supper. They eyed him +respectfully as he passed, and in response to a signal, LeFroy arose +and followed him to the tent. + +Once inside, Lapierre fixed his eyes upon the boss canoeman. + +"Well--you have watched Apaw--what have you found out?" + +"Apaw--I'm t'ink she spik de trut'." + +"Speak the truth--_hell_! Why didn't he get down here ahead of +MacNair, then? What have I got spies for--to drag in after MacNair's +gone and tell me he's been here?" + +LeFroy shrugged. "MacNair Injuns--dey com' pret' near catch Apaw--dey +keel Stamix. Apaw, she got 'way by com' roun' by de Black Fox." + +Lapierre nodded, scowling. He trusted LeFroy; and having recognized in +him one as unscrupulous and nearly as resourceful and penetrating as +himself, had placed him in charge of the canoemen, the men who, in the +words of the leader, "kept cases on the North," and to whose lot fell +the final distribution of the whiskey to the Indians. But so, also, +had he trusted the boasting, flaunting Vermilion. + +"All right; but keep your eye on him," he said, smiling sardonically, +"and you may learn a lesson. Now you listen to me. You are to stay +here. Miss Elliston wants you for her chief trader. Make out your +list of supplies--fill that storehouse up with stuff. She wants you to +undersell the H.B.C.--and you do it. Get the trade in here--see? Keep +your prices down to just below Company prices, and then skin 'em on the +fur--and--well, I don't need to tell you how. Give 'em plenty of debt +and we'll fix the books. Pick put a half-dozen of your best men and +keep 'em here. Tell 'em to obey Miss Elliston's orders; and whatever +you do, keep cases on MacNair. But don't start anything. Pass the +word out and fill up her school. Give her plenty to do, and keep 'em +orderly. I'll handle the canoemen and pick up the fur, and then I've +got to drop down the river and run in the supplies. I'll run in some +rifles, and some of the _stuff_, too." + +LeFroy looked at his chief in surprise. + +"Vermilion--she got ten keg on de scow--" he began. + +Lapierre laughed. + +"Vermilion, eh? Do you know where Vermilion is?" + +LeFroy shook his head. + +"He's in hell--that's where _he_ is--I dismissed him from my service. +He didn't run straight. Some others went along with him--and there are +more to follow. Vermilion thought he could double-cross me and get +away with it." And again he laughed. + +LeFroy shuddered and made no comment. Lapierre continued: + +"Make out your list of supplies, and if I don't show up in the mean +time, meet me at the mouth of the Slave three weeks from today. I've +got to count days if I get back before the freeze-up. And remember +this--you are working for Miss Elliston; we've got a big thing if we +work it right; we've got MacNair where we want him at last. She thinks +he's running in whiskey and raising hell with the Indians north of +here. Keep her thinking so; and later, when it comes to a +show-down--well, she is not only rich, but she's in good at +Ottawa--see?" + +LeFroy nodded. He was a man of few words, was LeFroy; dour and +taciturn, but a man of brains and one who stood in wholesome fear of +his master. + +"And now," continued Lapierre, "break camp and load the canoes. I must +pull out tonight. Pick out your men and move 'em at once into the +barracks. You understand everything now?" + +"_Oui_," answered LeFroy, and stepping from the tent, passed swiftly +from fire to fire, issuing commands in low guttural. Lapierre rolled a +cigarette, and taking a guitar from its case, seated himself upon his +blankets and played with the hand of a master as he sang a love-song of +old France. All about him sounded the clatter of lodge-poles, the thud +of packs, and the splashing of water as the big canoes were pushed into +the river and loaded. + +Presently LeFroy's head thrust in at the entrance. He spoke no word; +Lapierre sang on, and the head was withdrawn. When the song was +finished the sounds from the outside had ceased. Lapierre carefully +replaced his guitar in its case, drew a heavy revolver from its +holster, threw it open, and twirled the cylinder with his thumb, +examining carefully its chambers. His brows drew together and his lips +twisted into a diabolical smile. + +Lapierre was a man who took no chances. What was one Indian, more or +less, beside the absolute integrity of his organization? He stepped +outside, and instantly the guy-ropes of the tent were loosened; the +canvas slouched to the ground and was folded into a neat pack. The +blankets were made into a compact roll, with the precious guitar in the +centre and deposited in the head canoe. Lapierre glanced swiftly about +him; nothing but the dying fires and the abandoned lodge-poles +indicated the existence of the camp. On the shore the canoemen, +leaning on their paddles, awaited the word of command. + +He stepped to the water's edge, where, Apaw the Indian, stood with the +others. For just a moment the baleful eyes of Lapierre fixed the +silent figure; then his words cut sharply upon the silence. + +"Apaw--_Chahco yahkwa_!" The Indian advanced, evidently proud of +having been singled out by the chief, and stood before him, paddle in +hand. Lapierre spoke no word; seconds passed, the silence grew +intense. The hand that gripped the paddle shook suddenly; and then, +looking straight into the man's eyes, Lapierre drew his revolver and +fired. There was a quick spurt of red flame--the sound of the shot +rang sharp, and rang again as the opposite bank of the river hurled +back the sound. The Indian pitched heavily forward and fell across his +paddle, snapping it in two. + +Lapierre glanced over the impassive faces of the canoemen. + +"This man was a traitor," he said in their own language. "I have +dismissed him from my service. Weight him and shove off!" + +The quarter-breed stepped into his canoe. The canoemen bound heavy +stones to the legs of the dead Indian, laid the body upon the camp +equipage amidship, and silently took their places. + + +During the evening meal, Chloe was unusually silent, answering Miss +Penny's observations and queries in short, detached monosyllables. +Later she stole out alone to a high, rocky headland that commanded a +sweeping view of the river, and sat with her back against the broad +trunk of a twisted banskian. + +The long Northern twilight hung about her like a pall--seemed +enveloping, smothering her. No faintest breath of air stirred the piny +needles above her, nor ruffled the surface of the river, whose black +waters, far below, flowed broad and deep and silent--smoothly--like a +river of oil. Ominously hushed, secretive, it slipped out of the +motionless dark. Silently portentous, it faded again into the dark, +the mysterious half-dark, where the gradually deepening twilight +blended the distance into the enshrouding pall of gloom. Involuntarily +the girl shuddered and started nervously at the splash of an otter. A +billion mosquitoes droned their unceasing monotone. The low sound was +everywhere--among the branches of the gnarled banskian, above the +surface of the river, and on and on and on, to whine thinly between the +little stars. + +It was not at all the woman who would conquer a wilderness, that +huddled in a dejected little heap at the foot of the banskian; but a +very miserable and depressed girl, who swallowed hard to keep down the +growing lump in her throat, and bit her lip, and stared with wide eyes +toward the southward. Hot tears--tears of bitter, heart-sickening +loneliness--filled her eyes and trickled unheeded down her cheeks +beneath the tightly drawn mosquito-net. + +Darkness deepened, imperceptibly, surely, fore-shortening the horizon, +and by just so much increasing the distance that separated her from her +people. + +"Poor fool moose-calf," she murmured, "you weren't satisfied to follow +the beaten trails. You had to find a land of your own--a land that----" + +The whispered words trailed into silence, and to her mind's eye +appeared the face of the man who had spoken those words--the face of +Brute MacNair. She saw him as he stood that day and faced her among +the freshly chopped stumps of the clearing. + +"He is rough and bearlike--boorish," she thought, as she remembered +that the man had not removed his hat in her presence. "He called me +names. He is uncouth, cynical, egotistical. He thinks he can scare me +into leaving his Indians alone." Her lips trembled and tightened. "I +am a woman, and I'll show him what a woman can do. He has lived among +the Indians until he thinks he owns them. He is hard, and domineering, +and uncompromising, and skeptical. And yet--" What gave her pause was +so intangible, so chaotic, in her own mind as to form itself into no +definite idea. + +"He is brutish and brutal and bad!" she muttered aloud at the memory of +Lapierre's battered face, and immediately fell to comparing the two men. + +Each seemed exactly what the other was not. Lapierre was handsome, +debonair, easy of speech, and graceful of movement; deferential, +earnest, at times even pensive, and the possessor of ideals; generous +and accommodating to a fault, if a trifle cynical; maligned, hated, +discredited by the men who ruled the North, yet brave and infinitely +capable--she remembered the swift fate of Vermilion. + +His was nothing of the rugged candour of MacNair--the bluff +straightforwardness that overrides opposition; ignores criticism. +MacNair fitted the North--the big, brutal, insatiate North--the North +of storms, of cold and fighting things; of foaming, roaring white-water +and seething, blinding blizzards. + +Chloe's glance strayed out over the river, where the farther bank +showed only the serried sky-line of a wall of jet. + +Lapierre was also of the North--the North as it is tonight; soft air, +balmy with the incense of growing things; illusive dark, half +concealing, half revealing, blurring distant outlines. A placid North, +whose black waters flowed silent, smooth, deep. A benign and harmless +North, upon its surface; and yet, withal, portentous of things unknown. + +The girl shuddered and arose to her feet, and, as she did so, from up +the river--from the direction of the Indian camp--came the sharp, quick +sound of a shot. Then silence--a silence that seemed unending to the +girl who waited breathlessly, one hand grasping the rough bark of the +gnarled tree, and the other shading her eyes as thought to aid them in +their effort to pierce the gloom. + +A long time she stood thus, peering into the dark, and then, an +indistinct form clove the black water of the river, and a long body +slipped noiselessly toward her, followed by another, and another. + +"The canoes!" she cried, as she watched the sparkling starlight play +upon the long Y-shaped ripples that rolled back from their bows. + +Once more the sense of loneliness almost overcame her. Pierre Lapierre +was going out of the North. + +She could see the figures of the paddlers, now--blurred, and +indistinct, and unrecognizable--distinguishable more by the spaces that +showed between them, than by their own outlines. + +They were almost beneath her. Should she call out? One last _bon +voyage_? The sound of a voice floated upward; a hard, rasping voice, +unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar. In the leading canoe the Indians +ceased paddling. The canoe lost momentum and drifted broadside to the +current. The men were lifting something; something long and dark. +There was a muffled splash, and the dark object disappeared. The +canoemen picked up their paddles, and the canoe swung into its course +and disappeared around a point. The other canoes followed; and the +river rolled on as before--black--oily--sinister. + +A broad cloud, pall-like, threatening, which had mounted unnoticed by +the girl, blotted out the light of the stars, as if to hide from alien +eyes some unlovely secret of the wilds. + +The darkness was real, now; and Chloe, in a sudden panic of terror, +dashed wildly for the clearing--stumbling--crashing through the bush as +she ran; her way lighted at intervals by flashes of distant lightning. +She paused upon the verge of the bank at the point where it entered the +clearing; at the point where the wilderness crowded menacingly her +little outpost of civilization. Panting, she stood and stared out over +the smooth flowing, immutable river. + +A lightning flash, nearer and more vivid than any preceding, lighted +for an instant the whole landscape. Then, the mighty crash of thunder, +and the long, hoarse moan of wind, and in the midst of it, that other +sound--the horrible sound that once before had sent her dashing +breathless from the night--the demoniacal, mocking laugh of the great +loon. + +With a low, choking sob, the girl fled toward the little square of +light that glowed from the window of her cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ON SNARE LAKE + +When Bob MacNair left Chloe Elliston's camp, he swung around by the way +of Mackay Lake, a detour that required two weeks' time and added +immeasurably to the discomfort of the journey. Day by day, upon lake, +river, and portage, Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack wondered much at +his silence and the unwonted hardness of his features. + +These two Indians knew MacNair. For ten years, day and night, they had +stood at his beck and call; had followed him through all the vast +wilderness that lies between the railways and the frozen sea. They had +slept with him, had feasted and starved with him, at his shoulder faced +death in a hundred guises, and they loved him as men love their God. +They had followed him during the lean years when, contrary to the +wishes of his father, the stern-eyed factor at Fort Norman, he had +refused the offers of the company and devoted his time, winter and +summer, to the exploration of rivers and lakes, rock ridges and +mountains, and the tundra that lay between, in search of the lost +copper mines of the Indians; the mines that lured Hearne into the North +in 1771, and which Hearne forgot in the discovery of a fur empire so +vast as to stagger belief. + +But, as the canoe forged northward, Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack +held their peace, and when they arrived at the fort, MacNair growled an +order, and sought his cabin beside the wall of the stockade. + +A half hour later, when the Indians had gathered in response to the +hurried word of Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack, MacNair stepped from +his cabin and addressed them in their own language, or rather in the +jargon--the compromise language of the North--by means of which the +minds of white men and Indians meet on common ground. He warned them +against Pierre Lapierre, the _kultus_ breed of whom most of them +already knew, and he told them of the girl and her school at the mouth +of the Yellow Knife. And then, in no uncertain terms, he commanded +them to have nothing whatever to do with the school, nor with Lapierre. +Whereupon, Sotenah, a leader among the young men, arose, and after a +long and flowery harangue in which he lauded and extolled the wisdom of +MacNair and the benefits and advantages that accrued to the Indians by +reason of his patronage, vociferously counselled a summary descent upon +the fort of the _Mesahchee Kloochman_. + +The proclamation was received with loud acclaim, and it was with no +little difficulty that MacNair succeeded in quieting the turbulence and +restoring order. After which he rebuked Sotenah severely and laid +threat upon the Indians that if so much as a hair of the white +_kloochman_ was harmed he would kill, with his own hand, the man who +wrought the harm. + +As for Pierre Lapierre and his band, they must be crushed and driven +out of the land of the lakes and the rivers, but the time was not yet. +He, MacNair, would tell them when to strike, and only if Lapierre's +Indians were found prowling about the vicinity of Snare Lake were they +to be molested. + +The Indians dispersed and, slinging a rifle over his shoulder, MacNair +swung off alone into the bush. + +Bob MacNair knew the North; knew its lakes and its rivers, its forests +and its treeless barrens. He knew its hardships, dangers and +limitations, and he knew its gentler moods, its compensations, and its +possibilities. Also, he knew its people, its savage primitive children +who call it home, and its invaders--good and bad, and worse than bad. +The men who infest the last frontier, pushing always northward for +barter, or for the saving of souls. + +He understood Pierre Lapierre, his motives and his methods. But the +girl he did not understand, and her presence on the Yellow Knife +disturbed him not a little. Had chance thrown her into the clutches of +Lapierre? And had the man set about deliberately to use her school as +an excuse for the establishment of a trading-post within easy reach of +his Indians? MacNair was inclined to believe so--and the matter caused +him grave concern. He foresaw trouble ahead, and a trouble that might +easily involve the girl who, he felt, was entirely innocent of +wrongdoing. + +His jaw clamped hard as he swung on and on through the scrub. He had +no particular objective, a problem faced him and, where other men would +have sat down to work its solution, he walked. + +In many things was Bob MacNair different from other men. Just and +stern beyond his years, with a sternness that was firmness rather than +severity; slow to anger, but once his anger was fairly aroused terrible +in meting out his vengeance. Yet, withal, possessed of an +understanding and a depth of sympathy, entirely unsuspected by himself, +but which enshrined him in the hearts of his Indians, who, in all the +world were the men and women who knew him. + +Even his own father had not understood this son, who devoured books as +ravenously as his dogs devoured salmon. Again and again he +remonstrated with him for wasting his time when he might be working for +the company. Always the younger man listened respectfully, and +continued to read his books and to search for the lost mines with a +determination and singleness of purpose that aroused the secret +approbation of the old Scotchman, and the covert sneers and scoffings +of others. + +And then, after four years of fruitless search, at the base of a ridge +that skirted the shore of an unmapped lake, he uncovered the mouth of +an ancient tunnel with rough-hewn sides and a floor that sloped from +the entrance. Imbedded in the slime on the bottom of a pool of +stinking water, he found curious implements, rudely chipped from flint +and slate, and a few of bone and walrus ivory. Odd-shaped, +half-finished tools of hammered copper were strewn about the floor, and +the walls were thickly coated with verdigris. Instead of the sharp +ring of steel on stone, a dull thud followed the stroke of his pick, +and its scars glowed with a red lustre in the flare of the smoking +torches. + +Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack looked on in stolid silence, while the +young man, with wildly beating heart, crammed a pack-sack with samples. +He had found the ancient mine--the lost mine of the Indians, which men +said existed only in the fancy of Bob MacNair's brain! Carefully +sealing the tunnel, the young man headed for Fort Norman; and never did +Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack face such a trail. Down the raging +torrent of the Coppermine, across the long portage to the Dismal Lakes, +and then by portage and river to Dease Bay, across the two hundred +miles of Great Bear Lake, and down the Bear River to their destination. + +Seven hundred long miles they covered, at a man-killing pace that +brought them into the fort, hollow-eyed and gaunt, and with their +bodies swollen and raw from the sting of black flies and mosquitoes +that swarmed through the holes in their tattered garments. + +The men wolfed down the food that was set before them by an Indian +woman, and then, while Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack slept, the +chief trader led Bob MacNair to the grave of his father. + +"'Twas his heart, lad, or somethin' busted inside him," explained the +old man. "After supper it was, two weeks agone. He was sittin' i' his +chair wi' his book an' his pipe, an' me in anither beside him. He gi' +a deep sigh, like, an' his book fell to the ground and his pipe. When +I got to him his head was leant back ag'in his chair--and he was dead." + +Bob MacNair nodded, and the chief trader returned to the store, leaving +the young man standing silent beside the fresh-turned mound with its +rudely fashioned wooden cross, that stood among the other grass-grown +mounds whose wooden crosses, with their burned inscriptions, were +weather-grey and old. For a long time he stood beside the little +crosses that lent a solemn dignity to the rugged heights of Fort Norman. + +It cannot be said that Bob MacNair had loved his father, in the +generally accepted sense of the word. But he had admired and respected +him above all other men, and his first thought upon the discovery of +the lost mine was to vindicate his course in the eyes of this stern, +just man who had so strongly advised against it. + +For the opinion of others he cared not the snap of his fingers. But, +to read approval in the deep-set eyes of his father, and to hear the +deep, rich voice of him raised, at last, in approbation, rather than +reproach, he had defied death and pushed himself and his Indians to the +limit of human endurance. And he had arrived too late. The bitterness +of the young man's soul found expression only in a hardening of the jaw +and a clenching of the mighty fists. For, in the heart of him, he knew +that in the future, no matter what the measure of the world might be, +always, deep within him would rankle the bitter disappointment--the +realization that this old man had gone to his grave believing that his +son was a fool and a wastrel. + +Slowly he turned from the spot and, with heavy steps, entered the +post-store. He raised the pack that contained the samples from the +floor, and, walking to the verge of the high cliff that overlooked the +river, hurled it far out over the water, where it fell with a dull +splash that was drowned in the roar of the rapids. + +"Ye'll tak' charge here the noo, laddie?" asked McTurk, the grizzled +chief trader, the following day when MacNair had concluded the +inspection of his father's papers. "'Twad be what _he'd_ ha' +counselled!" + +"No," answered the young man shortly, and, without a word as to the +finding of the lost mine, hurried Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack into +a canoe and headed southward. + +A month later the officers of the Hudson Bay Company in Winnipeg gasped +in surprise at the offer of young MacNair to trade the broad acres to +which his father had acquired title in the wheat belt of Saskatchewan +and Alberta for a vast tract of barren ground in the subarctic. They +traded gladly, and when the young man heard that his dicker had earned +for him the name of Fool MacNair in the conclave of the mighty, he +smiled--and bought more barrens. + +All of which had happened eight years before Chloe Elliston defied him +among the stumps of her clearing, and in the interim much had +transpired. In the heart of his barrens he built a post and collected +about him a band of Indians who soon learned that those who worked in +the mines had a far greater number of brass tokens of "made beaver" to +their credit than those who trapped fur. + +Those were hard years for Bob MacNair; years in which he worked day and +night with his Indians, and paid them, for the most part, in promises. +But always he fed them and clothed them and their women and children, +although to do so stretched his credit to the limit--raised the +limit--and raised it again. + +He uncovered vast deposits of copper, only to realize that, until he +could devise a cheaper method of transportation, the metal might as +well have remained where the forgotten miners had left it. And it was +while he was at work upon his transportation problem that the shovels +of his Indians began to throw out golden grains from the bed of a +buried creek. + +When the news of gold reached the river, there was a stampede. But +MacNair owned the land and his Indians were armed. There was a short, +sharp battle, and the stampeders returned to the rivers to nurse their +grievance and curse Brute MacNair. + +He paid his debt to the Company and settled with his Indians, who +suddenly found themselves rich. And then Bob MacNair learned a lesson +which he never forgot--his Indians could not stand prosperity. Most of +those who had stood by him all through the lean years when he had +provided them only a bare existence, took their newly acquired wealth +and departed for the white man's country. Some returned--broken husks +of the men who departed. Many would never return, and for their +undoing MacNair reproached himself unsparingly, the while he devised an +economic system of his own, and mined his gold and worked out his +transportation problem upon a more elaborate scale. The harm had been +done, however; his Indians were known to be rich, and MacNair found his +colony had become the cynosure of the eyes of the whiskey-runners, the +chiefest among whom was Pierre Lapierre. It was among these men that +the name of Brute, first used by the beaten stampeders, came into +general use--a fitting name, from their viewpoint--for when one of them +chanced to fall into his hands, his moments became at once fraught with +tribulation. + +And so MacNair had become a power in the Northland, respected by the +officers of the Hudson Bay Company, a friend of the Indians, and a +terror to those who looked upon the red man as their natural prey. + +Step by step, the events that had been the milestones of this man's +life recurred to his mind as he tramped tirelessly through the scrub +growth of the barrens toward a spot upon the shore of the lake--the +only grass plot within a radius of five hundred miles. Throwing +himself down beside a low, sodded mound in the centre of the plot, he +idly watched the great flocks of water fowls disport themselves upon +the surface of the lake. + +How long he lay there, he had no means of knowing, when suddenly his +ears detected the soft swish of paddles. He leaped to his feet and, +peering toward the water, saw, close to the shore, a canoe manned by +four stalwart paddlers. He looked closer, scarcely able to credit his +eyes. And at the same moment, in response to a low-voiced order, the +canoe swung abruptly shoreward and grated upon the shingle of the +beach. Two figures stepped out, and Chloe Elliston, followed by Big +Lena, advanced boldly toward him. MacNair's jaw closed with a snap as +the girl approached smiling. For in the smile was no hint of +friendliness--only defiance, not unmingled with contempt. + +"You see, Mr. Brute MacNair," she said, "I have kept my word. I told +you I would invade your kingdom--and here I am." + +MacNair did not reply, but stood leaning upon his rifle. His attitude +angered her. + +"Well," she said, "what are you going to do about it?" Still the man +did not answer, and, stooping, plucked a tiny weed from among the +blades of grass. The girl's eyes followed his movements. She started +and looked searchingly into his face. For the first time she noticed +that the mound was a grave. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +AN INTERVIEW + +"Oh, forgive me!" Chloe cried, "I--I did not know that I was intruding +upon--sacred ground!" There was real concern in her voice, and the +lines of Bob MacNair's face softened. + +"It is no matter," he said. "She who sleeps here will not be +disturbed." + +The unlooked for gentleness of the man's tone, the simple dignity of +his words, went straight to Chloe Elliston's heart. She felt suddenly +ashamed of her air of flippant defiance, felt mean, and small, and +self-conscious. She forgot for the moment that this big, quiet man who +stood before her was rough, even boorish in his manner, and that he was +the oppressor and debaucher of Indians. + +"A--a woman's grave?" faltered the girl. + +"My mother's." + +"Did _she_ live here, on Snare Lake?" Chloe asked in surprise, as her +glance swept the barren cliffs of its shore. + +MacNair answered with the same softness of tone that somehow dispelled +all thought of his uncouthness. "No. She lived at Fort Norman, over +on the Mackenzie--that is, she died there. Her home, I think, was in +the Southland. My father used to tell me how she feared the +North---its snows and bitter cold, its roaring, foaming rivers, its +wild, fierce storms, and its wind-lashed lakes. She hated its rugged +cliffs and hills, its treeless barrens and its mean, scrubby timber. +She loved the warm, long summers, and the cities and people, and--" he +paused, knitting his brows--"and whatever there is to love in your land +of civilization. But she loved my father more than these--more than +she feared the North. My father was the factor at Fort Norman, so she +stayed in the North--and the North killed her. To live in the North, +one must love the North. She died calling for the green grass of her +Southland." + +He ceased speaking and unconsciously stooped and plucked a few spears +of grass which he held in his palm and examined intently. + +"Why should one die calling for the sight of grass?" he asked abruptly, +gazing into Chloe's eyes with a puzzled look. + +The girl gazed directly, searchingly into MacNair's eyes. The naive +frankness of him--his utter simplicity--astounded her. + +"Oh!" she cried, impulsively stepping forward. "It wasn't the +_grass_--it was--oh! _can't_ you _see_?" The man regarded her +wonderingly and shook his head. + +"No," he answered gravely. "I can not see." + +"It was--everything! Life--friends--home! The grass was only the +symbol--the tangible emblem that stood for life!" MacNair nodded, but, +by the look in his eye, Chloe knew that he did not understand and that +pride and a certain natural reserve sealed his lips from further +questioning. + +"It is far to the Mackenzie," ventured the girl. + +"Aye, far. After my father died I brought her here." + +"You! Brought her here!" she exclaimed, staring in surprise into the +strong emotionless face. + +The man nodded slowly. "In the winter it was--and I came +alone--dragging her body upon a sled----" + +"But why----" + +"Because I think she would have wished it so. If one hated the wild, +rugged cliffs and the rock-tossed rapids, would one wish to lie upon a +cliff with the rapids roaring, for ever and ever? I do not think that, +so I brought her here--away from the grey hills and the ceaseless roar +of the rapids." + +"But the grass?" + +"I brought that from the Southland. I failed many times before I found +a kind that would grow. It is little I can do for her, and she does +not know, but, somehow, it has made me feel--easier--I cannot tell you +exactly. I come here often." + +"I think she _does_ know," said Chloe softly, and brushed hot tears +from her eyes. Could _this_ be the man whose crimes against the poor, +ignorant savages were the common knowledge of the North? Could this be +he whom men called Brute--this simple-spoken, straightforward, boyish +man who had endured hardships and spared no effort, that the mother he +had never known might lie in her eternal rest beneath the green sod of +her native land, far from the sights, and sounds that, in life, had +become a torture to her soul, and worn her, at last, to the grave? + +"Mr.--MacNair." The hard note--the note of uncompromising +antagonism--had gone from her voice, and the man looked at her in +surprise. It was the first time she had addressed him without +prefixing the name Brute and emphasizing the prefix. He stood, +regarding her calmly, waiting for her to proceed. Somehow, Chloe found +that it had become very difficult for her to speak; to say the things +to this man that she had intended to say. "I cannot understand +you--your viewpoint." + +"Why should you try? I ask no one to understand me. I care not what +people think." + +"About the Indians, I mean----" + +"The Indians? What do you know of my viewpoint in regard to the +Indians?" The man's face had hardened at her mention of the Indians. + +"I know this!" exclaimed the girl. "That you are trading them whiskey! +With my own eyes I saw Mr. Lapierre smash your kegs--the kegs that were +cunningly disguised as bales of freight and marked with your name, and +I saw the whiskey spilled out upon the ground." + +She paused, expecting a denial, but MacNair remained silent and again +she saw the peculiar twinkle in his eye as he waited for her to +proceed. "And I--you, yourself told me that you would kill some of Mr. +Lapierre's Indians! Do you call that justice--to kill men because they +happen to be in the employ of a rival trader--one who has as much right +to trade in the Northland as you have?" + +Again she paused, but the man ignored her question. + +"Go on," he said shortly. + +"And you told me your Indians had to work so hard they had no time for +book-learning, and that the souls of the Indians were black as--as +hell." + +"And I told you, also, that I have never owned any whiskey. Why do you +believe me in some things and not in others? It would seem more +consistent, Miss Chloe Elliston, for you either to believe or to +disbelieve me." + +"But, I _saw_ the whiskey. And as for what you, yourself, told me--a +man will scarcely make himself out worse than he is." + +"At least, I can scarcely make myself out worse than you believe me to +be." The twinkle was gone from MacNair's eyes now, and he spoke more +gruffly. "Of what use is all this talk? You are firmly convinced of +my character. Your opinion of me concerns me not at all. Even if I +were to attempt to make my position clear to you, you would not believe +anything I should tell you." + +"What defence can there be to conduct such as yours?" + +"Defence! Do you imagine I would stoop to defend my conduct to +_you_--to one who is, either wittingly or unwittingly, hand in glove +with Pierre Lapierre?" + +The unconcealed scorn of the man's words stung Chloe to the quick. + +"Pierre Lapierre is a man!" she cried with flashing eyes. "He is +neither afraid nor ashamed to declare his principles. He is the friend +of the Indians--and God knows they need a friend--living as they do by +sufferance of such men as you, and the men of the Hudson Bay Company!" + +"You believe that, I think," MacNair said quietly. "I wonder if you +are really such a fool, or do you know Lapierre for what he is?" + +"Yes!" exclaimed the girl, her face flushed. "I _do_ know him for what +he is! He is a _man_! He knows the North. I am learning the North, +and together we will drive you and your kind out of the North." + +"You cannot do that," he said. "Lapierre, I will crush as I would +crush a snake. I bear you no ill will. As you say, you will learn the +North--for you will remain in the North. I told you once that you +would soon tire of your experiment, but I was wrong. Your eyes are the +eyes of a fighting man." + +"Thank you, Mr.--MacNair----" + +"Why not Brute MacNair?" + +Chloe shook her head. "No," she said. "Not that--not after--I think I +shall call you Bob MacNair." + +The man looked perplexed. "Women are not like men," he said, simply. +"I do not understand you at times. Tell me--why did you come into the +North?" + +"I thought I had made that plain. I came to bring education to the +Indians. To do what I can to lighten their burden and to make it +possible for them to compete with the white man on the white man's +terms when this country shall bow before the inevitable advance of +civilization; when it has ceased to be the land beyond the outposts." + +"We are working together then," answered, MacNair. "When you have +learned the North we shall be--friends." + +"Never! I----" + +"Because you will have learned," he continued, ignoring her protest, +"that education is the last thing the Indians need. If you can make +better trappers and hunters of them; teach them to work in mines, +timber, on the rivers, you will come nearer to solving their problem +than by giving them all the education in the world. No, Miss Chloe +Elliston, they can't play the white man's game--with the white man's +chips." + +"But they can! In the States we----" + +"Why didn't you stay in the States?" + +"Because the government looks after the education of the +Indians--provides schools and universities, and----" + +"And what do they turn out?" + +"They turn out lawyers and doctors and engineers and ministers of the +gospel, and educated men in all walks of life. We have Indians in +Congress!" + +"How many? And how many are lawyers and doctors and engineers and +ministers of the gospel? And how many can truthfully be said to be +'educated men in all walks of life'? A mere handful! Where one +succeeds, a hundred fail! And the others return to their reservation, +dissolute, dissatisfied, to live on the bounty of your government; you, +yourself, will admit that when an Indian does rise into a profession +for which his education has fitted him, he is an object of wonder--a +man to be written about in your newspapers and talked about in your +homes. And then your sentimentalists--your fools--hold him up as a +type! Not your educated Indians are reaping the benefit of your +government's belated attention, but those who are following the calling +for which nature has fitted them--stock-raising and small farming on +their allotted reservations. The educated ones know that the +government will feed and clothe them--why should they exert themselves? + +"Here in the North, because the Indians have been dealt with sanely, +and not herded onto restricted reservations, and subjected to the +experiments of departmental fools well-intentioned--and otherwise--they +are infinitely better off. They are free to roam the woods, to hunt +and to trap and to fish, and they are contented. They remain at the +posts only long enough to do their trading, and return again to the +wilds. For the most part they are truthful and sober and honest. They +can obtain sufficient clothing and enough to eat. The lakes and the +rivers teem with fish, and the woods and the barrens abound with game, + +"Contrast these with the Indians who have come more intimately into +contact with the whites. You can see them hanging about the depots and +the grogeries and rum shops of the railway towns, degenerate, diseased, +reduced to beggary and petty thievery. And you do not have to go to +the railway towns to see the effect of your civilization upon them. +Follow the great trade rivers! From source to mouth, their banks are +lined with the Indians who have come into contact with your +civilization! + +"Go to any mission centre! Do you find that the Indian has taken +kindly to the doctrines it teaches? Do you find them happy, +God-fearing Indians who embraced Christianity and are living in accord +with its precepts? You do not! Except in a very few isolated cases, +like your lawyers and doctors of the states, you will find at the very +gates of the missions, be their denomination what they may, debauchery +and rascality in its most vicious forms. Read your answer there in the +vice-marked, ragged, emaciated hangers-on of the missions. + +"I do not say that this harm is wrought wilfully--on the contrary, I +know it is not. They are noble and well-meaning men and women who +carry the gospel into the North. Many of them I know and respect and +admire--Father Desplaines, Father Crossett, the good Father O'Reiley, +and Duncan Fitzgilbert, of my mother's faith. These men are good men; +noble men, and the true friends of the Indians; in health and in +sickness, in plague, famine, and adversity these men shoulder the red +man's burden, feed, clothe, and doctor him, and nurse him back to +health--or bury him. With these I have no quarrel, nor with the +religion they teach--in its theory. It is not bad. It is good. These +men are my friends. They visit me, and are welcome whenever they come. + +"Each of these has begged me to allow him to establish a mission among +my Indians. And my answer is always the same--'_No!_' And I point to +the mission centres already established. It is then they tell me that +the deplorable condition exists, not because of the mission, but +_despite_ it." He paused with a gesture of impatience. "_Because_! +_Despite_! A quibble of words! If the _fact_ remains, what difference +does it make whether it is _because_ or _despite_? It must be a great +comfort to the unfortunate one who is degraded, diseased, damned, to +know that his degradation, disease, and damnation, were wrought not +_because_, but _despite_. I think God laughs--even as he pities. But, +in spite of all they can do, the _fact_ remains. I do not ask you to +believe me. Go and see it with your own eyes, and then if you _dare_, +come back and establish another plague spot in God's own wilderness. +The Indian rapidly acquires all the white man's vices--and but few of +his virtues. + +"Stop and think what it means to experiment with the future of a +people. To overthrow their traditions: to confute their beliefs and +superstitions, and to subvert their gods! And what do you offer them +in return? Other traditions; other beliefs; another God--and +education! Do you dare to assume the responsibility? Do you dare to +implant in the minds of these people an education--a culture--that will +render them for ever dissatisfied with their lot, and send many of them +to the land of the white man to engage in a feeble and hopeless +struggle after that which is, for them, unattainable?" + +"But it is _not_ unattainable! They----" + +"I know your sophisms; your fabrication of theory!" MacNair +interrupted her almost fiercely. "The _facts_! I have seen the +rum-sodden wrecks, the debauched and soul-warped men and women who hang +about your frontier towns, diseased in body and mind, and whose +greatest misfortune is that they live. These, Miss Chloe Elliston, are +the real monuments to your education. Do you dare to drive one hundred +to certain degradation that is worse than fiery hell, that you may +point with pride to one who shall attain to the white man's standard of +success?" + +"That is not the truth! I do not believe it! I _will_ not believe it!" + +The steel-grey eyes of the man bored deep into the shining eyes of +brown. "I know that you do not believe it. But you are wrong when you +say that you _will_ not believe it. You are honest and unafraid, and, +therefore, you will learn, and now, one thing further. + +"We will say that you succeed in keeping your school, or post, or +mission, from this condition of debauchery--which you will not. What +then? Suppose you educate your Indians? There are no employers in the +North. None who buy education. The men who pay out money in the waste +places pay it for bone and brawn, not for brains; they have brains--or +something that answers the purpose--therefore, your educated Indian +must do one of two things--he must go where he can use his education or +he must remain where he is. In either event he will be the loser. If +he seeks the land of the white man, he must compete with the white man +on the white man's terms. He cannot do it. If he stays here in the +North he must continue to hunt, or trap, or work on the river, or in +the mines, or the timber, and he is ever afterward dissatisfied with +his lot. More, he has wasted the time he spent in filling his brain +with useless knowledge." + +MacNair spoke rapidly and earnestly, and Chloe realized that he spoke +from his heart and also that he spoke from a certain knowledge of his +subject. She was at a loss for a reply. She could not dispute him, +for he had told her not to believe him; to go see for herself. She did +not believe MacNair, but in spite of herself she was impressed. + +"The missionaries _are_ doing good! Their reports show----" + +"Their reports show! Of course their reports show! Why shouldn't +they? Where do their reports go? To the people who pay them their +salaries! Do not understand me to say that in all cases these reports +are falsely made. They are not--that is, they are literally true. A +mission reports so many converts to Christianity during a certain +period of time. Well and good; the converts are there--they can +produce them. The Indians are not fools. If the white men want them +to profess Christianity, why they will profess Christianity--or +Hinduism or Mohammedanism. They will worship any god the white man +suggests--for a fancy waistcoat or a piece of salt pork. The white man +gives many gifts of clothing, and sometimes of food--to his converts. +Therefore, he shall not want for converts--while the clothing holds +out!" + +"And _your_ Indians? Have they not suffered from their contact with +you?" + +"No. They have not suffered. I know them, their needs and +requirements, and their virtues and failings. And they know me." + +"Where is your fort?" + +"Some distance above here on the shore of this lake." + +"Will you take me there? Show me these Indians, that I may see for +myself that you have spoken the truth?" + +"No. I told you you were to have nothing to do with my Indians. I +also warned my Indians against you--and your partner Lapierre. I +cannot warn them against you and then take you among them." + +"Very well. I shall go myself, then. I came up here to see your fort +and the condition of your Indians. You knew I would come." + +"No. I did not know that. I had not seen the fighting spirit in your +eyes then. Now I know that you will come--but not while I am here. +And when you do come you will be taken back to your own school. You +will not be harmed, for you are honest in your purpose. But you will, +nevertheless, be prevented from coming into contact with my Indians. I +will have none of Lapierre's spies hanging about, to the injury of my +people." + +"Lapierre's spies! Do you think I am a spy? Lapierre's?" + +"Not consciously, perhaps--but a spy, nevertheless. Lapierre may even +now be lurking near for the furtherance of some evil design." + +Chloe suddenly realized that MacNair's boring, steel-grey eyes were +fixed upon her with a new intentness--as if to probe into the very +thoughts of her brain. + +"Mr. Lapierre is far to the Southward," she said--and then, upon the +edge of the tiny clearing, a twig snapped. The man whirled, his rifle +jerked into position, there was a loud report, and Bob MacNair sank +slowly down upon the grass mound that was his mother's grave. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BACK ON THE YELLOW KNIFE + +The whole affair had been so sudden that Chloe scarcely realized what +had happened before a man stepped quickly into the clearing, at the +same time slipping a revolver into its holster. The girl gazed at him +in amazement. It was Pierre Lapierre. He stepped forward, hat in +hand. Chloe glanced swiftly from the dark, handsome features to the +face of the man on the ground. The grey eyes opened for a second, and +then closed; but in that brief, fleeting glance the girl read distrust, +contempt, and silent reproach. The man's lips moved, but no sound +came--and with a laboured, fluttering sigh, he sank into +unconsciousness. + +"Once more, it seems, my dear Miss Elliston, I have arrived just in +time." + +A sudden repulsion for this cruel, suave killer of men flashed into the +girl's brain. "Get some water," she cried, and dropping to her knees +began to unbutton MacNair's flannel shirt. + +"But--" objected Lapierre. + +"Will you get some water? This is no time to argue! You can explain +later!" Lapierre turned and without a word, walked to the lake and, +taking a pail from the canoe, filled it with water. When he returned, +Chloe was tearing white bandages from a garment essentially feminine, +while Big Lena endeavoured to stanch the flow of blood from a small +wound high on the man's left breast, and another, more ragged wound +where the bullet had torn through the thick muscles of his back. + +The two women worked swiftly and capably, while Lapierre waited, +frowning. + +"Better hurry, Miss Elliston," he said, when the last of the bandages +was in place. "This is no place for us to be found if some of +MacNair's Indians happen along. Your canoe is ready. Mine is farther +down the lake." + +"But, this man--surely----" + +"Leave him there. You have done all you can do for him. His Indians +will find him." + +"What!" cried Chloe. "Leave a wounded man to die in the bush!" + +Lapierre stepped closer. "What would you do ?" he asked. "Surely you +cannot remain here. His Indians would kill you as they would kill a +_carcajo_." The man's face softened. "It is the way of the North," he +said sadly. "I would gladly have spared him--even though he is my +enemy. But when he whirled with his rifle upon my heart, his finger +upon the trigger, and murder in his eye, I had no alternative. It was +his life or mine. I am glad I did not kill him." The words and the +tone reassured Chloe, and when she answered, it was to speak calmly. + +"We will take him with us," she said. "The Indians could not care for +him properly even if they found him. At home I have everything +necessary for the handling of just such cases." + +"But, my dear Miss Elliston--think of the portages and the added +burden. His Indians----" + +The girl interrupted him--"I am not asking you to help. I have a canoe +here. If you are afraid of MacNair's Indians you need not remain." + +The note of scorn in the girl's voice was not lost upon Lapierre. He +flushed and answered with the quiet dignity that well became him: "I +came here, Miss Elliston, with only three canoemen. I returned +unexpectedly to your school, and when I learned that you had gone to +Snare Lake, I followed--to save you, if possible, from the hand of the +Brute." + +Chloe interrupted him. "You came here for that?" + +The man bowed low. "Knowing what you do of Brute MacNair, and of his +hatred of me, you surely do not believe I came here for business--or +pleasure." He drew closer, his black eyes glowing with suppressed +passion. "There is one thing a man values more than life--the life and +the safety of the woman he loves!" + +Chloe's eyes dropped. "Forgive me!" she faltered. "I--I did not +know--I--Oh! don't you see? It was all so sudden. I have had no time +to think! I know you are not afraid. But, we can't leave him +here--like this." + +"As you please," answered Lapierre, gently. + +"It is not the way of the North; but----" + +"It is the way of humanity." + +"It is _your_ way--and, therefore, it is my way, also. But, let us not +waste time!" He spoke sharply to Chloe's canoemen, who sprang to the +unconscious form, and raising it from the ground, carried it to the +water's edge and deposited it in the canoe. + +"Make all possible speed," he said, as Chloe preceded Big Lena into the +canoe; "I shall follow to cover your retreat." + +The girl was about to protest, but at that moment the canoe shot +swiftly out into the lake, and Lapierre disappeared into the bush. + +There was small need for the quarter-breed's parting injunction. The +four Indian canoemen evidently keenly alive to the desirability of +placing distance between themselves and MacNair's retainers, bent to +their paddles with a unanimity of purpose that fairly lifted the big +canoe through the water and sent the white foam curling from its bow in +tiny ripples of protest. + +Hour after hour, as the craft drove southward, Chloe sat with the +wounded man's head supported in her lap and pondered deeply the things +he had told her. Now and again she gazed into the bearded face, calm, +masklike in its repose of unconsciousness, as if to penetrate behind +the mask and read the real nature of him. She realized with a feeling +almost of fear, that here was no weakling--no plastic irresolute--whose +will could be dominated by the will of a stronger; but a man, virile, +indomitable; a man of iron will who, though he scorned to stoop to +defend his position, was unashamed to vindicate it. A man whose words +carried conviction, and whose eyes compelled attention, even respect, +though the uncouth boorishness of him repelled. + +Yet she knew that somewhere deep behind that rough exterior lay a finer +sensitiveness, a gentleness of feeling, and a sympathy that had +impelled him to a deed of unconscious chivalry of which no man need be +ashamed. And in her heart Chloe knew that had she not witnessed with +her own eyes the destruction of his whiskey, she would have been +convinced of his sincerity, if not of his postulates. "He is bad, but +not _all_ bad," she murmured to herself. "A man who will fight hard, +but fairly. At all events, my journey to Snare Lake has not been +entirely in vain. He knows, now, that I have come into the North to +stay; that I am not afraid of him, and will fight him. He knows that I +am honest----" + +Suddenly the very last words she had spoken to him flashed into her +mind--"Mr. Lapierre is far to the Southward"--and then Chloe closed her +eyes as if to shut out that look of mingled contempt and reproach with +which the wounded man had sunk into unconsciousness. "He thinks I lied +to him--that the whole thing was planned," she muttered, and was +conscious of a swift anger against Lapierre. Her eyes swept backward +to the brown spot in the distance which was Lapierre's canoe. + +"He came up here because he thought I was in danger," she mused. "And +MacNair would have killed him. Oh, it is terrible," she moaned. "This +wild, hard wilderness, where human life is cheap; where men hate, and +kill, and maim, and break all the laws of God and man; it is all +_wrong_! Brutal, and savage, and wrong!" + +The shadows lengthened, the canoe slipped into the river that leads to +Reindeer Lake, and still the tireless canoemen bent unceasingly to +their paddles. Reindeer Lake was crossed by moonlight, and a late camp +was made a mile to the westward of the portage. The camp was fireless, +and the men talked in whispers. Later Lapierre joined them, and at the +first grey hint of dawn the outfit was again astir. By noon the +five-mile portage had been negotiated, and the canoes headed down Carp +Lake, which is the northmost reach of the Yellow Knife. + +The following two days showed no diminution in the efforts of the +canoemen. The wounded man's condition remained unchanged. Lapierre's +canoe followed at a distance of a mile or two, and a hundred times a +day Chloe found herself listening with strained expectancy for the +sound of the shots that would proclaim that MacNair's Indians had +overtaken them. But no shots were fired, and it was with a feeling of +intense relief that the girl welcomed the sight of her own buildings as +they loomed in the clearing on the evening of the third day. + +That night Lapierre visited Chloe in the cottage, where he found her +seated beside MacNair's bed, putting the finishing touches to a +swathing of fresh bandages. + +"How is he doing?" he asked, with a nod toward the injured man. + +"There is no change," answered the girl, as she indicated a chair close +beside a table, upon which were a tin basin, various bottles, and +porcelain cups containing medicine, and a small pile of antiseptic +tablets. For just an instant the man's glance rested upon the tablets, +and then swiftly swept the room. It was untenanted except for the girl +and the unconscious man on the bed. + +"LeFroy, it seems, has improved his time," ventured Lapierre as he +accepted the proffered chair and drew from his pocket a thick packet of +papers. "His complete list of supplies," he smiled. "With these in +your storehouse you may well expect to seriously menace the trade of +both MacNair and the Hudson Bay Company's post at Fort Rae." + +Chloe glanced at the list indifferently. "It seems, Mr. Lapierre, that +your mind is always upon trade--when it is not upon the killing of men." + +The quarter-breed was quick to note the disapproval of her tone, and +hastened to reply. "Surely, Miss Elliston, you cannot believe that I +regard the killing of men as a pleasure; it is a matter of deep regret +to me that twice during the short period of our acquaintance I have +been called upon to shoot a fellow man." + +"Only twice! How about the shot in the night--in the camp of the +Indians, before you left for the Southward?" The sarcasm of the last +four words was not lost upon the man. "Who fired that shot? And what +was the thing that was lifted from your canoe and dropped into the +river?" + +Lapierre's eyes searched hers. Did she know the truth? The chance was +against it. + +"A most deplorable affair--a fight between Indians. One was killed and +we buried him in the river. I had hoped to keep this from your ears. +Such incidents are all too common in the Northland----" + +"And the murderer----" + +"Has escaped. But to return to the others. Both shots, as you well +know, were fired on the instant, and in neither case did I draw first." + +Chloe, who had been regarding him intently, was forced to admit the +justice of his words. She noted the serious sadness of the handsome +features, the deep regret in his voice, and suddenly realized that in +both instances Lapierre's shots had been fired primarily in defence of +her. + +A sudden sense of shame--of helplessness--came over her. Could it be +that she did not fit the North? Surely, Lapierre was entitled to her +gratitude, rather than her condemnation. Judged by his own standard, +he had done well. With a shudder she wondered if she would ever reach +the point where she could calmly regard the killing of men as a mere +incident in the day's work? She thought not. And yet--what had men +told her of Tiger Elliston? Without exception, almost, the deeds they +recounted had been deeds of violence and bloodshed. When she replied, +her voice had lost its note of disapproval. + +"Forgive me," she said softly, "it has all been so different--so +strange and new, and big. I have been unable to grasp it. All my life +I have been taught to hold human life sacred. It is not you who are to +blame! Nor, is it the others. It is the kill or be killed creed--the +savage wolf creed--of the North." + +The girl spoke rapidly, with her eyes upon the face of MacNair. So +absorbed was she that she did not see the slim fingers of Lapierre +steal softly across the table-top and extract two tablets from the +little pile--failed also to see the swift motion with which those +fingers dropped the tablets into a porcelain cup, across the rim of +which rested a silver spoon. + +The man arose at the conclusion of her words, and crossing to her side +rested a slim hand upon the back of her chair. "No. Miss Elliston," +he said gently, "I am not to blame nor, in a measure, are the others. +It is, as you say, the North--the crushing, terrible, alluring +North--in whose primitive creed a good man does not mean a moral one, +but one who accomplishes his purpose, even though that purpose be bad. +End, and not means, is the ethics of the lean, lone land, where human +life sinks into insignificance, beneath the immutable law of savage +might." + +His eyes burned as he gazed down into the upturned face of the girl. +His hands stole lightly from the chair back and rested upon her +shoulder. For one long, intense moment, their eyes held, and then, +with a movement as swift and lithe as the spring of a panther, the man +was upon his knees beside her chair, his arms were about her, and with +no thought of resistance, Chloe felt herself drawn close against his +breast, felt the wild beating of his heart, and then--his lips were +upon hers, and she felt herself struggling feebly against the embrace +of the sinewy arms. + +Only for a moment did Lapierre hold her. With a movement as sudden and +impulsive as the movement that embraced her, the arms were withdrawn, +and the man leaped swiftly to his feet. Too dazed to speak, Chloe sat +motionless, her brain in a chaotic whirl of emotion, while in her +breast outraged dignity and hot, fierce anger strove for the mastery +over a thrill, so strange to her, so new, so intense that it stirred +her to the innermost depths of her being. + +Swiftly, unconsciously, her glance rested for a moment upon the lean, +bearded face of MacNair; and beside her chair, Lapierre noted the +glance, and the thin lips twisted into a smile--a cynical, sardonic +smile, that faded on the instant, as his eyes flashed toward the +doorway. For there, silent and grim as he had seen her once before, +stood Big Lena, whose china-blue eyes were fixed upon him, in that same +disconcerting, fishlike stare. + +The hot blood mounted to his cheeks and suddenly receded, so that his +face showed pallid and pasty in the gloom of the darkened room. He +drew his hand uncertainly across his brow and found it damp with a +cold, moist sweat. Was it fancy, or did the china-blue, fishlike eyes +rest for just an instant upon the porcelain cup on the table? With an +effort the man composed himself, and stooping, whispered a few hurried +words into the ears of the girl who sat with her face buried in her +hands. + +"Forgive me, Miss Elliston; for the moment I forgot that I had no +right. I love you! Love you more than life itself! More than my own +life--or the lives of others. It was but the impulse of an unguarded +moment that caused me to forget that I had not the right--forget that I +am a gentleman. We love as we kill in the North. And now, good-by, I +am going Southward. I will return, if it is within the power of man to +return, before the ice skims the lakes and the rivers." + +He paused, but the girl remained as though she had not heard him. He +leaned closer, his lips almost upon her ear. "Please, Miss Elliston, +can you not forgive me--wish me one last bon voyage?" + +Slowly, as one in a dream, Chloe offered him her hand. "Good-by!" she +said simply, in a dull, toneless voice. The man seized the hand, +pressed it lightly, and turning abruptly, crossed to the table. As he +drew his Stetson toward him, its brim came into violent contact with +the porcelain medicine cup. The cup crashed to the floor, its contents +splashing widely over the whip-sawed boards. + +With a hurried word of apology he passed out of the door--passed close +beside the form of Big Lena onto whose cold, fishlike eyes the black +eyes stared insolently, even as the thin lips twisted into a +smile--cynical, sardonic, mocking. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT + +The days immediately following Lapierre's departure were busy days for +Chloe Elliston. The word had passed along the lakes and the rivers, +and stolid, sullen-faced Indians stole in from the scrub to gaze +apathetically at the buildings on the banks of the Yellow Knife. Chloe +with pain-staking repetition, through LeFroy as interpreter, explained +to each the object of her school; with the result that a goodly number +remained and lost no time in installing themselves in the commodious +barracks. + +On the evening of the second day the girl tiptoed into the sick-room +and, bending over MacNair, was startled to encounter the steady gaze of +the steel-grey eyes. "I thought you never would come to," she smiled. +"You see, I don't know much about surgery, and I was afraid perhaps--" + +"Perhaps Lapierre had done his work well?" + +Chloe started at the weak, almost gentle tones of the gruff voice she +had learned to associate with this man of the North. She flushed as +she met the steady, disconcerting stare of the grey eyes. "He shot on +the spur of the moment. He thought you were going to shoot him." + +"And he shot from--far to the Southward?" + +"Oh! You do not think--you do not believe that I deliberately _lied_ +to you! That I _knew_ Lapierre was on Snare Lake!" The words fell +from her lips with an intense eagerness that carried the ring of +sincerity. The hard look faded from the man's eyes, and the bearded +lips suggested just the shadow of a smile. + +"No," he answered weakly; "I do not think that. But tell me, how long +have I been this way? And what has happened? For I remember +nothing--after the world turned black. I am surprised that Lapierre +missed me. He has the reputation for killing--at his own range." + +"But he didn't miss you!" cried the girl in surprise. "It was his +bullet that--that made the world turn black." + +"Aye; but it was a miss, just the same, and a miss, I am thinking, that +will cost him dear. He should have killed me." + +"Please do not talk," said the girl in sudden alarm, and taking the +medicine from the table, held the spoon to the man's lips. He +swallowed its contents, and was about to speak when Chloe interrupted +him. "Please do not talk," she begged, "and I'll tell you what +happened. There is not much to tell: after we bound up your wounds we +brought you here, where I could give you proper care. It took three +days to do this, and two days have passed since we arrived." + +"I knew I was in your----" + +Chloe flushed deeply. "Yes, in my room," she hastened to interrupt +him; "but you must not talk. It was the only place I knew where you +could be quiet and--and safe." + +"But, Lapierre--why did he allow it?" + +Chloe flushed. "Allow it! I do not take orders from Mr. Lapierre, nor +from you, nor from anybody else. This is my school; this cottage is +mine; I'll do as I please with it, and I'll bring who I please into it +without asking permission from any one." + +While she was speaking, the man's glance strayed from her flashing eyes +to the face of a tarnished, smoke-blackened portrait that showed +indistinct in the dull lamplight of the little room. Chloe's glance +followed MacNair's, and as the little clock ticked sharply, both stared +in silence into the lean, lined features of Tiger Elliston. + +"Your eyes," murmured the man--"sometimes they are like that." +Suddenly his voice strengthened. He continued to gaze at the face in +the dull gold frame. With an effort he withdrew an arm from beneath +the cover and pointed with a finger that trembled weakly. "I should +like to have known him," he said. "By God, yon is the face of a _man_!" + +"My grandfather," muttered the girl. + +"You'll love the North--when you know it," said MacNair. "Tell me, did +Lapierre advise you to bring me here?" + +"No," answered Chloe, "he did not. He--he said to leave you; that your +Indians would care for you." + +"And my Indians--did they not follow you?" Chloe shook her head. Once +more MacNair bent a searching glance upon the girl's face. "Where is +Lapierre?" he asked. + +"He is gone," Chloe answered. "Two days ago he left for the----" She +hesitated as there flashed through her brain the moment on Snare Lake +when, once before, she had answered MacNair's question in almost the +same words. "_He said_ he was going to the southward," she corrected. + +MacNair smiled. "I think, this time, he has gone. But why he left +without killing me I cannot understand. Lapierre has made a mistake." + +"You do him an injustice! Mr. Lapierre does not want to kill you. He +is sorry he was forced to shoot; but, as he said, it was your life or +his. And now please do be quiet, or I must leave you to yourself." + +MacNair closed his eyes, and, seating herself by the table, Chloe +stared silently into the face of the portrait until the man's deep, +regular breathing told her that he slept. + +Slowly the moments passed, and the girl's gaze roved from the face of +the portrait along the walls of the little room. Suddenly her eyes +dilated in horror; for there, tight pressed against an upper pane of +the window, whose lower sash was daintily curtained with chintz, +appeared a dark, scowling face--the face of an Indian, which she +instantly recognized as one of the two who had accompanied MacNair upon +his first visit to her clearing. + +Even as she looked the face vanished, leaving the girl staring +wide-eyed at the black square of the window. Curbing her impulse to +awake MacNair, she stole softly from the room and, unlocking the outer +door, sped swiftly through the darkness toward the little square of +light that glowed from the window of the store. + +The distance was not great from the door of the cottage to the soft +square of radiance that showed distinctly in the darkness. But even as +Chloe ran, the light was suddenly extinguished, and the outlines of the +big storehouse loomed vague and huge and indistinct against the black +background of the encircling scrub. The girl stopped abruptly and +stared uncertainly into the darkness. Her heart beat wildly. A +strange sense of terror came over her as she stood alone, surrounded by +the blackness of the clearing. Why had LeFroy extinguished his light? +And why was the night so still? + +She strained to catch the familiar sounds of the wilderness--the little +night sounds to which she had grown accustomed: the bellowing of frogs +in the sedges, the chirp of tree-toads, and the harsh squawk of +startled night-fowls. Even the air seemed unnaturally still, and the +ceaseless drone of the mosquitoes served but to intensify the unnatural +silence. The mosquitoes broke the spell of the nameless terror, and +she slapped viciously at her face and neck. + +"I'm a fool," she muttered; "a perfect fool! LeFroy puts out his light +every night and--and what if there are no sounds? I'm just listening +for something to be afraid of." + +She glanced backward toward her own cottage where the light still +glowed from the window. It was reassuring, that little square of +yellow lamp-light that shone softly from the window of her room. She +was not afraid now. She would return to the cottage and lock the door. +She shuddered at the thought. Before her rose the vision of that dark, +shadowy face, tight-pressed against the glass. Instinctively she knew +that Indian was not alone. There were others, and--once more her eyes +swept the blackness. + +Suddenly the question flashed through her brain: Why should these +Indians seek to avenge MacNair--the man who held the power of life and +death over them--who had practically forced them into servitude? Then, +swift as the question, flashed the answer: It was not to avenge MacNair +they came, but, knowing he was helpless, to strike the blow that would +free themselves from the yoke. Had Lapierre known this? Had he left, +knowing that the man's own Indians would finish the work his bullet had +only half completed? No! Lapierre would not have done that. Did he +not say: "I am glad I did not kill him"? He was thinking only of my +safety. + +"We'll be safe enough till morning," she muttered. "Surely I have read +somewhere that Indians never attack in the night. Tomorrow we must +hide MacNair where they cannot find him. They will murder him, now +that he is wounded. How they must hate him! Must hate the man who has +oppressed and debauched and cheated them!" + +The girl had nearly reached the door of the cottage when once more she +halted, rooted in her tracks. Out of the unnatural silence of the +night, close upon the edge of the clearing, boomed the cry of the great +horned owl. It was a sound she had often heard here in the northern +night--this hooting of an owl; but, somehow, this sound was different. +Once more her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. Her fists +clenched, and she peered tensely toward the wall of the scrub timber +that showed silent and black and impenetrable in the little light of +the stars. Again the portentous silence and then--was it fancy, or +were there shapes, stealthy, elusive, shadowy, moving along the wall of +the intense blackness? + +A light suddenly flashed from the window of the storehouse. It +disappeared. The great door banged sharply, and out of the blackness +sounded a rush of moccasined feet, padding the earth as they ran. + +From the edge of the timber--from the direction of the shadowy +shapes--came a long, thin spurt of flame, and the silence was broken by +the roar of a smooth-bore rifle. The next instant the roar was +increased tenfold, and from the loopholes high on the walls of the +storehouse flashed other thin red spurts of flame. + +Terror-stricken, Chloe dashed for the cottage. Along the entire length +of the timber-line, spikes of flame belched forth, and the crash and +roar of rifles drowned the rush of the moccasin feet. A form dashed +past her in the darkness, and then another, forcing Chloe from the +path. The terrified girl realized that these forms were speeding +straight for the door of the cottage. Her first thought was for +MacNair. He would be murdered as he slept. + +She redoubled her efforts, feeling blindly in the darkness for the path +that led toward the square of light. In her ears sounded the sharp +jangle of smashing glass. Her foot caught in a vine, and she crashed +heavily forward almost at the door. All about her guns roared; from +the edge of the scrub, from the river-bank, and from the corners of the +long log dormitories. Bullets whined above her like angry mosquitoes, +and thudded dully against the logs of the cottage. + +Again sounded the sharp jangle of glass. She struggled to her knees, +and was hurled backward as the huge form of an Indian tripped over her +and sprawled, cursing, at her side. The door of the cottage burst +suddenly open, and in the long quadrangle of light the forms of the two +Indians who had passed her stood out distinctly. The girl gave a +quick, short sob of relief. They were LeFroy's Indians! At the sound +the man on the ground thrust his face close to hers and with a quick +grunt of surprise scrambled to his feet. Chloe felt her arm seized, +and realized that she was being dragged toward the door of the cottage +through which the other two Indians had disappeared. She was jerked +roughly across the threshold, and lay huddled up on the floor. The +Indian released his hold on her arm and, stepping across her body, +reached for the door. + +Outside, the roar of the guns was incessant. Suddenly, close at hand, +Chloe heard a quick, wicked spat, and the Indian reeled from the +doorway, whirled as on a pivot, and crashed, face downward, across the +table. There was a loud rattle of porcelain dishes, a rifle rang +sharply upon the floor boards, and Chloe gazed in horrid fascination as +the limp form of the Indian slipped slowly from the table. Its +momentum increased, and the back of the man's head struck the floor +with a sickening thump. The face turned toward her--a face wet and +dripping with the rich red blood that oozed thickly from the irregular +hole in the forehead where the soft, round ball from a smooth bore had +torn into the brain. The wide eyes stared stonily into her own. The +jaws sagged open, and the nearly severed tongue protruded from between +the fang-like yellow teeth. + +Someone blew out the lamp. The door slammed shut. Chloe felt strong +hands beneath her shoulders; the voice of Big Lena sounded in her ears, +and she was being guided through the pitch blackness to the door of her +own room. The lamp by the bedside had also been extinguished, and the +girl glanced toward the window, which showed in the feeble starlight a +pattern of jagged panes. One of the Indians who had preceded her into +the cottage thrust the barrel of a rifle through the aperture and fired +rapidly at the flashes of flame in the clearing. + +In the other room someone was shrieking, and Chloe recognized the voice +of Harriet Penny. Big Lena left her side, and a moment later the +shrieking ceased, or, rather, quieted to a series of terrified, choking +grunts and muffled cries, as though something soft and thick had been +forcibly applied as a gag. Chloe groped her way blindly toward the +bed, where she had left the wounded man. Her feet stumbled awkwardly +through the confusion of debris that was the wreck of the over-turned +medicine table. + +"Are you hurt?" she gasped as she sank trembling upon the edge of the +bed. Close beside her sounded the sharp snap of metal as the Indian +jammed fresh cartridges into his magazine. + +"No!" said a voice in her ear. "I'm not hurt. Are you?" Chloe shook +her head, forgetting that in the intense blackness she had returned no +answer. There was a movement upon the bed; a huge hand closed roughly +about her arm. The Indian was firing again. + +"Tell me, are you hurt?" rasped a voice in her ear. And her arm was +shaken almost fiercely. + +"No!" she managed to gasp, struggling to free herself. "But oh, it's +all too, too horrible, too awful! There is a dead man in the other +room. He is one of LeFroy's Indians. One of _my_ Indians, and they +shot him!" + +"I'm damned glad of it!" growled MacNair thickly, and Chloe leaped from +the bed. The coarse brutality of the man was inconceivable. In her +mingled emotion of rage and loathing, she hated this man with a fierce, +savage hatred that could kill. She knew now why men called him Brute +MacNair. The name fitted! These Indians had rushed from the security +of the fortlike storehouse upon the first intimation of danger to +protect the defenseless quartet in the cottage--the three women and the +wounded, helpless man. In the very doorway of the cottage one had been +killed--killed facing the enemy--the savage blood-thirsty horde who, +having learned of the plight of their oppressor, had taken the warpath +to venge their wrongs. Surely MacNair must know that this man had died +as much in the defense of him as of the women. And yet, when he +learned of the death of this man, he had said: "I am damned glad of it!" + +How long Chloe stood there speechless, trembling, with her heart fairly +bursting with rage, she did not know. Time ceased to be. Suddenly she +realized that the room was no longer in intense darkness. Objects +appeared dim and indistinct: the bed with the wounded man, the contents +of the table strewn in confusion upon the floor, and the Indian +shooting from the window. Then the flare of flames met her eyes. The +walls of the storehouse stood out distinctly from its black background +of timber. Savage forms appeared in the clearing, gliding stealthily +from stump to stump. + +The light grew brighter. She could hear now, mingled with the sharp +crack of the rifles, the dull roar of flames. The dormitories were +burning! This added to her consuming rage. Her eyes seemed fairly to +glow as she fixed them upon the pale face of MacNair, who had struggled +to a sitting posture. She took a step toward the bed. A dull red spot +showed on either cheek. A bullet ripped through the window and +splintered the dull gold frame of Tiger Elliston's portrait, but the +girl had lost all sense of fear. She shook her clenched fist in the +bearded face of the man, and her voice quavered high and thin. + +"You--you--_damn you_!" she cried. "I wish I'd left you back there to +the mercy of your savages! You're a brute--a fiend! It would serve +you right if I should give you up to them! He--the man who was +killed--was trying to save you from the righteous wrath of those you +have ground down and oppressed!" + +MacNair ignored her words, and as his eyes met hers squarely, they +betrayed not the slightest emotion. The pallid features showed tense +and drawn in the growing firelight. His gaze projected past her to the +lean face of Tiger Elliston. + +"You are a fighter at heart," he said slowly addressing the girl. "You +are his flesh and blood and he was a fighter. He won to victory over +the bodies of his enemies. In his eyes I can see it." + +"He was no coward!" flashed the girl. "He never won to victory over +the bodies of his friends!" With an effort the man reached for his +clothing, which hung from a peg near the head of the bed. + +"Where are you going?" cried the girl sharply. + +"I am going," MacNair answered gravely, looking straight into her eyes, +"to take my Indians back to Snare Lake." + +"They will kill you!" she cried impulsively. + +"They will not!" MacNair smiled; "but if they do, you will be glad. +Did you not say----" + +The girl faced swiftly away, and at the same moment the Indian at the +window staggered backward, dropping his rifle and cursing horribly in +the only English he knew, as he clutched frantically at his shoulder. +Chloe turned. MacNair was lacing his boots. He raised himself weakly +to his feet, swaying uncertainly, with his hand pressed against his +chest, and laughed harshly into the pain-twisted features of the Indian. + +"When the last of yon dogs gets his bullet, I can leave this place in +safety." + +"What do you mean?" cried the girl, her eyes blazing. + +"I mean," rasped the man, "that you are a fool! You have listened to +Lapierre and you have easily become his dupe. There is no Indian in +his employ who would not kill me. They have had their orders. Have +you stopped to reflect that the brave Lapierre did not himself remain +to stem this attack? To protect me from my Indians?" + +The sneer in MacNair's voice was not lost upon the girl, who drew +herself up haughtily. + +"Mr. Lapierre," she answered, "could hardly be charged with +anticipating this attack, nor could he be blamed for not altering his +plans to fight _your_ battles." + +MacNair laughed. "The idea of Lapierre fighting _my_ battles is, +indeed, unique. And you may be sure that Lapierre will not fight his +own battles--as long as he can find others to fight them for him. Miss +Elliston, this attack _was_ anticipated. Lapierre knew to a certainty +that when my Indians read the signs, and learned what had happened +there on the shore of Snare Lake, their vengeance would not be +delayed." He looked straight into the eyes of the girl. "Did you arm +your Indians?" + +"I did not!" answered Chloe. "I brought no guns." + +"Then where did your Indians get their rifles?" + +"Well, really, Mr. MacNair, I cannot tell you. Possibly at the same +place your Indians got theirs. The Indians, who have come to me here +are hunters and trappers. Is it so extraordinary that men who are +hunters should own guns?" + +"Your ignorance would be amusing, if it were not tragic!" retorted +MacNair. And picking up the gun which the wounded Indian had dropped, +held it before the eyes of the girl. "The hunters of the North, Miss +Elliston, do not equip themselves with Mausers." + +"With Mausers!" cried the girl. "You mean----" + +"I mean just this," broke in MacNair, "that your Indians were armed to +kill men, not animals. With, or without, your knowledge or sanction, +your Indians have been supplied with the best rifles obtainable. Your +school is Lapierre's fort!" Thrusting the rifle into the hands of the +girl, he brushed past her and with difficulty made his way through the +intervening room to the outer door, which he threw open. + +Chloe followed. Outside the firing continued with undiminished +intensity, but the girl was conscious of no sense of fear. Her eyes +swept the room, flooded now by the glare of the flaring flames. Beside +the stove stood Big Lena, an ax gripped tightly in her strong hands. +The remaining Indian lay upon the floor, firing slowly through a +loophole punched in the chinking. At the doorway MacNair turned, and +in the strong light Chloe noticed that his face was haggard and drawn +with pain. + +"I thank you." he said, touching his bandaged chest, "for your nursing. +It has probably saved my life." + +"Come back! They will kill you!" MacNair ignored her warning. "You +have one redeeming feature," cried the girl. "At least, you are as +brutal toward yourself as toward others." + +MacNair laughed harshly. "I thank you," he said and staggered out into +the fire-lit clearing. Dully, Chloe noticed that the Indian who had +been firing from the floor slipped stealthily through the doorway and, +dropping to his knee, raised his rifle. The next instant the girl's +eyes widened in horror. The gun was pointed squarely at MacNair's +back. She tried to cry out, but no sound came. It seemed minutes that +the Indian sighted as he knelt there in the clearing. And then--he +pulled the trigger. There was a sharp, metallic click, followed by a +muttered imprecation. The man jerked down the rifle and reaching into +his pocket, produced long yellow cartridges, which he jammed into the +magazine. + +The horror of it! The diabolical deliberation of the man spurred the +girl to a fury she had never known. In that moment her one thought was +to kill--to kill with her hands--to rend--to tear--and to maim! For +the first time she realized that the thing in her hand was a gun. + +Again the Indian was raising his rifle. The girl twisted and jerked at +the bolt of her own gun. It was locked. The next instant, with a +loud, animal-like cry, she leaped for the doorway, trampling, as she +passed, with a wild, fierce joy upon the upturned staring face of the +dead Indian. + +Out in the clearing the flames roared and crackled. Rifles spat. And +before her the Indian was again lining his sights. Grasping the heavy +rifle by the barrel, Chloe whirled it high above her and brought it +down with a crash upon the head of the kneeling savage. The man +crumpled as dead men crumple--in an ugly, twisted heap. Fierce, swift +exultation shot through the girl's brain as she stood beside the +formless thing on the ground. She looked up--squarely into the eyes of +MacNair, who had turned at the sound of her outcry. + +"I said you would fight!" called the man. "I have seen it in your +eyes. They are the eyes of the man on the wall." + +Then, abruptly, he turned and disappeared in the direction of the river. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LAPIERRE RETURNS FROM THE SOUTH + +When Pierre Lapierre left Chloe Elliston's school after the completion +of the buildings, he proceeded at once to his own rendezvous on Lac du +Mort. + +This shrewdly chosen stronghold was situated on a high, jutting point +that rose abruptly from the waters of the inland lake, which surrounded +it upon three sides. The land side was protected by an enormous black +spruce swamp. This headland terminated in a small, rock-rimmed +plateau, perhaps three acres in extent, and was so situated as to be +practically impregnable against the attack of an ordinary force; the +rim-rocks forming a natural barricade which reduced the necessity for +artificial fortification to a minimum. Across the neck of the tiny +peninsula, Lapierre had thrown a strong stockade of logs, and from the +lake access was had only by means of a narrow, one-man trail that +slanted and twisted among the rocks of the precipitous cliff side. + +The plateau itself was sparsely covered with a growth of stunted spruce +and banskian, which served as a screen both for the stockade and the +long, low, fort-like building of logs, which was Lapierre's main cache +for the storing of fur, goods of barter, and contraband whiskey. The +fort was provisioned to withstand a siege, and it was there that the +crafty quarter-breed had succeeded in storing two hundred Mauser rifles +and many cases of ammunition. Among Lapierre's followers it was known +as the "Bastile du Mort." A safe haven of refuge for the hard-pressed, +and, in event of necessity, the one place in all the North where they +might hope indefinitely to defy their enemies. + +The secret of this fort had been well guarded, and outside of +Lapierre's organized band, but one man knew its location--and few even +guessed its existence. There were vague rumours about the Hudson Bay +posts, and in the barracks of the Mounted, that Lapierre maintained +such a fort, but its location was accredited to one of the numerous +islands of the extreme western arm of Great Slave Lake. + +Bob MacNair knew of the fort, and the rifles, and the whiskey. He +knew, also, that Lapierre did not know that he knew, and therein, at +the proper time, would lie his advantage. The Hudson Bay Company had +no vital interest in verifying the rumour, nor had the men of the +Mounted, for as yet Lapierre had succeeded in avoiding suspicion except +in the minds of a very few. And these few, realizing that if Lapierre +was an outlaw, he was by far the shrewdest and most dangerous outlaw +with whom they had ever been called upon to deal, were very careful to +keep their suspicions to themselves, until such time as they could +catch him with the goods--after that would come the business of +tracking him to his lair. And they knew to a certainty that the men +would not be wanting who could do this--no matter how shrewdly that +lair was concealed. + +Upon arriving at Lac du Mort, Lapierre ordered the canoe-men to load +the fur, proceed at once to the mouth of Slave River, transfer it to +the scows, and immediately start upon the track-line journey to +Athabasca Landing. His own canoe he loaded with rifles and ammunition, +and returned to the Yellow Knife. It was then he learned that Chloe +had gone to Snare Lake, and while he little relished an incursion into +MacNair's domain, he secreted the rifles in the store-house and set out +forthwith to overtake her. Despite the fact that he knew the girl to +be strongly prejudiced against MacNair, Lapierre had no wish for her to +see his colony in its normal condition of peace and prosperity. And +so, pushing his canoemen to the limit of their endurance, he overtook +her as she talked with MacNair by the side of his mother's grave. + +Creeping noiselessly through the scrub to the very edge of the tiny +clearing, Lapierre satisfied himself that MacNair was unattended by his +Indians. The man's back was turned toward him, and the quarter-breed +noticed that, as he talked, he leaned upon his rifle. It was a chance +in a thousand. Never before had he caught MacNair unprepared--and the +man's blood would be upon his own head. Drawing the revolver from its +holster, he timed his movements to the fraction of a second; and +deliberately snapped a twig, MacNair whirled like a flash, and Lapierre +fired. His bullet went an inch too high, and when Chloe insisted upon +carrying the wounded man to the school, Lapierre could but feebly +protest. + +The journey down the Yellow Knife was a nightmare for the +quarter-breed, who momentarily expected an attack from MacNair's +Indians. Upon their safe arrival, however, his black eyes glittered +wickedly--at last MacNair was _his_. Fate had played directly into his +hands. He knew the attack was inevitable, and during the +excitement--well, LeFroy could be trusted to attend to MacNair. With +the rifles in the storehouse, MacNair's Indians would be beaten back, +and in the event of an investigation by the Mounted, the responsibility +would be laid at MacNair's door. But of that MacNair would never know, +for MacNair would have passed beyond. + +Knowing that the vengeance of MacNair's Indians would not be long +delayed, Lapierre determined to be well away from the Yellow Knife when +the attack came. However, he had no wish to leave without first +assuring himself that the shooting of MacNair stood justified in the +eyes of the girl, and to that end he had called upon her in her cottage. + +Then it was that chance seemed to offer a safe and certain means of +putting MacNair away, and he dropped the poisonous antiseptic tablets +into the medicine, only to have his plan frustrated by the unexpected +presence of Big Lena. He was not sure that the woman had seen his +action. But he took no chances, and with an apparent awkward movement +of his hat, destroyed the evidence, sought out LeFroy, who had already +been warned of the impending attack, and ordered him to place three or +four of his most dependable Indians in the cottage, with instructions +not only to protect Chloe, but to kill MacNair. + +Then he hastened southward to overtake his scowmen, who were toiling at +the track-lines somewhere among the turbulent rapids of the Slave. And +indeed there was need of haste. The summer was well advanced. Six +hundred miles of track-line and portage lay between Great Slave Lake +and Athabasca Landing. And if he was to return with the many +scow-loads of supplies for Chloe Elliston's store before the water-way +became ice-locked, he had not a day nor an hour to lose. + +At Point Brule he overtook the fur-laden scows, and at Smith Landing an +Indian runner reported the result of the fight, and the escape of +MacNair. Lapierre smothered his rage, and with twenty men at the +track-line of each scow, bored his way southward. + +A month later the gaunt, hard-bitten outfit tied up at the Landing. +Lapierre disposed of his fur, purchased the supplies, and within a week +the outfit was again upon the river. + +At the mouth of La Biche a half-dozen burlapped pieces were removed +from a _cache_ in a thicket of balsam and added to the outfit. And at +Fort Chippewayan the scows with their contents were examined by two +officers of the Mounted, and allowed to proceed on their way. + +On the Yellow Knife, Chloe Elliston anxiously awaited Lapierre's +return. Under LeFroy's supervision the dormitories had been rebuilt, +and a few sorry-looking, one-room cabins erected, in which families of +Indians had taken up their abode. + +Through the long days of the late summer and early fall, Indians had +passed and repassed upon the river, and always, in answer to the girl's +questioning, they spoke of the brutality of MacNair. Of how men were +made to work from daylight to dark in his mines. And of the fact that +no matter how hard they worked, they were always in his debt. They +told how he plied them with whiskey, and the hunger and misery of the +women and children. All this the girl learned through her interpreter, +LeFroy; and not a few of these Indians remained to take up their abode +in dormitories or cabins, until the little settlement boasted some +thirty or forty colonists. + +It was hard, discouraging work, this striving to implant the rudiments +of education in the minds of the sullen, apathetic savages, whose chief +ambition was to gorge themselves into stupidity with food from the +storehouse. With the adults the case seemed hopeless. And, indeed, +the girl attempted little beyond instruction in the simplest principles +of personal and domestic cleanliness and order. Even this met with no +response, until she established a daily inspection, and it became known +that the filthy should also go hungry. + +With the children, Chloe made some slight headway, but only at the +expense of unceasing, monotonous repetition, and even she was forced to +admit that the results were far from encouraging. The little savages +had no slightest conception of any pride or interest in their daily +tasks, but followed unvaryingly the line of least resistance as +delineated by a simple system of rewards and punishments. + +The men had shown no aptitude for work of any kind, and now when the +ice skimmed thinly the edges of the lake and rivers, they collected +their traps and disappeared into the timber, cheerfully leaving the +women and children to be fed and cared for at the school. As the days +shortened and the nights grew longer, the girl realized, with +bitterness in her heart, that almost the only thing she had +accomplished along educational lines was the imperfect smattering of +the Indian tongue that she herself had acquired. + +But her chiefest anxiety was a more material one, and Lapierre's +appearance with the supplies became a matter of the gravest importance, +for upon their departure the trappers had drawn heavily upon the +slender remaining stores, with a result that the little colony on the +Yellow Knife was already reduced to half rations, and was entirely +dependent upon the scows for the winter's supply of provisions. + +Not since the night of the battle had Chloe heard directly from +MacNair. He had not visited the school, nor had he expressed a word of +regret or apology for the outrage. He ignored her existence +completely, and the girl guessed that many of the Indians who refused +her invitation to camp in the clearing, as they passed and repassed +upon the river, did so in obedience to MacNair's command. + +In spite of her abhorrence for the man, she resented his total +disregard of her existence. Indeed, she would have welcomed a visit +from him, if for no other reason than because he was a white man. She +spent many hours in framing bitter denunciations to be used in event of +his appearance. But he did not appear, and resentment added to the +anger in her heart, until in her mind he became the embodiment of all +that was despicable, and brutish, and evil. + +More than once she was upon the point of attempting another visit to +Snare Lake, and in all probability would have done so had not Big Lena +flatly refused to accompany her under any circumstances whatever. And +this attitude the huge Swedish woman stubbornly maintained, preserving +a haughty indifference alike to Chloe's taunts of cowardice, promise of +reward, and threats of dismissal. Whereupon Chloe broached the subject +to Harriet Penny, and that valiant soul promptly flew into hysteria, so +that for three days Chloe did double duty in the school. After that +she nursed her wrath in silence and brooded upon the wrongs of +MacNair's Indians. + +This continued brooding was not without its effect upon the girl, and +slowly but surely destroyed her sense of proportion. No longer was the +education and civilization of the Indians the uppermost thought in her +mind. With Lapierre, she came to regard the crushing of MacNair's +power as the most important and altogether desirable undertaking that +could possibly be consummated. + +While in this frame of mind, just at sunset of a keen October day, the +cry of "_la brigade! la brigade!_" reached her ears as she sat alone +in her room in the cottage, and rushing to the river bank she joined +the Indians who swarmed to the water's edge to welcome the huge freight +canoe that had rounded the point below the clearing. Chloe clapped her +hands in sheer joy and relief, for there, proud and erect, in the bow +of the canoe stood Lapierre, and behind him from bank to bank the +Yellow Knife fairly swarmed with other full-freighted canoes. The +supplies had arrived! + +Even as the bow of his canoe scraped the bank, Lapierre was at her +side. Chloe felt her hand pressed between his--felt the grip of his +strong fingers, and flushed deeply as she realized that not alone +because of the supplies was she glad that he had come. And then, his +voice was in her ears, and she was listening as he told her how good it +was to stand once more at her side, and look into the face whose image +had spurred him to almost super-human effort, throughout the days and +the nights of the long river trail. + +Lightly she answered him, and Lapierre's heart bounded at the warmth of +her welcome. He turned with a word to his canoemen, and Chloe noted +with admiration, how one and all they sprang to do his bidding. She +marvelled at his authority. Why did these men leap to obey his +slightest command, when LeFroy, to obtain even the half-hearted +obedience she required of her Indians, was forced to brow-beat and +bully them? Her heart warmed to the man as she thought of the slovenly +progress of her school. Here was one who could help her. One who +could point with the finger of a master of men to the weak spots in her +system. + +Suddenly her brow clouded. For, as she looked upon Lapierre, the words +of MacNair flashed through her mind, as he stood weak from his wounds, +in the dimness of her fire-lit room. Her eyes hardened, and +unconsciously her chin thrust outward, as she realized that before she +could ask this man's aid, there were things he must explain. + +Darkness settled, and at a word from Lapierre, fires flared out on the +beach and in the clearing, and by their light the long line of canoemen +conveyed the pieces upon their heads into the wide door of the +storehouse. It was a weird, fantastic scene. The long line of +pack-laden men, toiling up the bank between the rows of flaring fires, +to disappear in the storehouse; and the long line returning +empty-handed to toil again, to the storehouse. After a time Lapierre +called LeFroy to his side and uttered a few terse commands. The man +nodded, and took Lapierre's place at the head of the steep slope to the +river. The quarter-breed turned to the girl. + +"Come," he said, smiling, "LeFroy can handle them now. May we not go +to your cottage? I would hear of your progress--the progress of your +school. And also," he bowed, "is it not possible that the great, what +do you call her, Lena, has prepared supper? I've eaten nothing since +morning." + +"Forgive me!" cried the girl. "I had completely forgotten supper. +But, the men? Have they not eaten since morning?" + +Lapierre smiled. "They will eat," he answered, "when their work is +done." + +Supper over, the two seated themselves upon the little veranda. Along +the beach the fires still flared, and still the men, like a huge, +slow-moving endless chain, carried the supplies to the store-house. +Lapierre waved his hand toward the scene. + +"You see now," he smiled, "why I built the storehouse so large?" + +Chloe nodded, and regarded him intently. "Yes, I see that," she +answered gravely, "but there are things I do not see. Of course you +have heard of the attack by MacNair's Indians?" + +Lapierre assented. "At Smith Landing I heard it," he answered, and +waited for her to proceed. + +"Had you expected this attack?" + +Lapierre glanced at her in well-feigned surprise. + +"Had I expected it, Miss Elliston, do you think I would have gone to +the Southward? Would I have left you to the mercy of those brutes? +When I thought you were in danger on Snare Lake, did I----" + +The girl interrupted him with a gesture. "No! No! I do not think you +anticipated the attack, but----" + +Lapierre finished her sentence. "But, MacNair told you I did, and that +I had timed accurately my trip to the Southward? What else did he tell +you?" + +"He told me," answered Chloe, "that had you not anticipated the attack +you would not have armed my Indians with Mausers. He said that my +Indians were armed to kill men, not animals." She paused and looked +directly into his eyes. "Mr. Lapierre, where did those rifles come +from?" + +Lapierre answered without a moment's hesitation. "From my--_cache_ to +the westward." He leaned closer. "I told you once before," he said, +"that I could place a hundred guns in the hands of your Indians, and +you forbade me. While I could remain in the North, I bowed to your +wishes. I know the North and its people, and I knew you would be safer +with the rifles than without them. In event of an emergency, the fact +that your Indians were armed with guns that would shoot farther, and +harder, and faster, than the guns of your enemies, would offset, in a +great measure, their advantage in numbers. It seems that my judgment +was vindicated. I disobeyed you flatly. But, surely, you will not +blame me! Oh! If you knew----" + +Chloe interrupted him. + +"Don't!" she cried sharply. "Please--not that! I--I think I +understand. But there are still things I do not understand. Why did +one of my own Indians attempt to murder MacNair? And how did MacNair +know that he would attempt to murder him? He said you had ordered it +so. And the man was one of your Indians--one of those you left with +LeFroy." + +Lapierre nodded. "Do you not see, Miss Elliston, that MacNair is +trying by every means in his power to discredit me in your eyes? +Apatawa, the Indian you--" Chloe shuddered as he paused, and he +hastened on--"The Indian who attempted to shoot MacNair, was originally +one of MacNair's own Indians--one of the few who dared to desert him. +And, for the wrongs he had suffered, he had sworn to kill MacNair." + +"But, knowing that, why did LeFroy send him to the cottage?" + +"That," answered Lapierre gravely, "is something I do not know. I must +first question LeFroy, and if I find that he thus treacherously +endangered the life of a wounded man, even though that man was MacNair, +who is his enemy, and likewise my enemy, I will teach him a lesson he +will not soon forget." + +Chloe heaved a sigh of relief. "I am glad," she breathed softly, "that +you feel that way." + +"Could you doubt it?" asked the man. + +Chloe hesitated. "Yes," she answered, "I _did_ doubt it. How could I +help but doubt, when he warned me what would happen, and it all came +about as he said? I--I could not help but believe him. And now, one +thing more. Can you tell me why MacNair's Indians are willing to fight +to the death to save him from harm? If the things you tell me are +true, and I know that they are true, because during the summer I have +questioned many of MacNair's Indians, and they all tell the same story; +why do they fight for him?" + +Lapierre considered. "That is one of those things," he answered, "that +men cannot explain. It is because of his hold upon them. Great +generals have had it--this power to sway men--to command them to +certain death, even though those men cursed the very ground their +commanders stood upon. MacNair is a powerful personality. In all the +North there is not his equal. I cannot explain it. It is a +psychological problem none can explain. For, although his Indians hate +him, they make no attempt to free themselves from his yoke, and they +will fight to the death in defense of him." + +"It is hard to believe," answered Chloe, "hard to understand. And yet, +I think I do understand. He said of my grandfather, as he looked into +the eyes of his portrait on the wall: 'He was a fighter. He won to +victory over the bodies of his enemies.' That is MacNair's idea of +greatness." + +Lapierre nodded, and when he looked into the face of the girl he noted +that her eyes flashed with purpose. + +"Tell me," she continued almost sharply, "you are not afraid of +MacNair?" + +For just an instant Lapierre hesitated. "No!" he answered. "I am not +afraid." + +Chloe leaned toward him eagerly and placed a hand upon his arm, while +her eyes seemed to search his very thoughts. "Then you will go with me +to Snare Lake--to carry our war into the heart of the enemy's country?" + +"To Snare Lake!" gasped the man. + +"Yes, to Snare Lake. I shall never rest now until MacNair's power over +these poor savages is broken forever. Until they are free from the +yoke of oppression." + +"But it would be suicide!" objected Lapierre. "No possible good can +come of it! To kill a lion, one does not thrust his head into the +lion's mouth in an effort to choke him to death. There are other ways." + +Chloe laughed. "He will not harm us," she answered. "I am not going +to kill him as one would kill a lion. There has been blood enough +spilled already. As you say, there are other ways. We are going to +Snare Lake for the purpose of procuring evidence that will convict this +man in the courts." + +"The courts!" cried Lapierre. "Where are the courts north of sixty?" + +"North of sixty, or south of sixty, what matters it? There are courts, +and there are prisons awaiting such as he. Will you go with me, or +must I go alone?" + +Lapierre glanced toward the flaring fires, where the endless line of +canoemen still toiled from the river to the storehouse. Slowly he +arose from his chair and extended his hand. + +"I will go with you," he answered simply, "and now I will say good +night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE WHISKEY RUNNERS + +When Lapierre left Chloe Elliston's cottage after promising to +accompany her to Snare Lake, he immediately sought out LeFroy, who was +superintending the distribution of the last of the supplies in the +storehouse. + +The two proceeded to LeFroy's room, and at the end of an hour sought +the camp of the canoemen. Ten minutes later, two lean-bodied scouts +took the trail for the Northward, with orders to report immediately the +whereabouts of MacNair. If luck favoured him, Lapierre knew that +MacNair accompanied by the pick of his hunters, would be far from Snare +Lake, upon his semi annual pilgrimage to intercept the fall migration +of the caribou herd, along the northernmost reaches of the barren +grounds. + +If MacNair had not yet started upon the fall hunt, the journey to Snare +Lake must be delayed. For the crafty Lapierre had no intention +whatever of risking a meeting with MacNair in the heart of his own +domain. Neither had he any intention of journeying to Snare Lake for +the purpose of securing evidence against MacNair to be used in a court +of law. His plans for crushing MacNair's power included no aid from +constituted authority. + +He noted with keen satisfaction that the girl's hatred for MacNair had +been greatly intensified, not so much by the attack upon her school, as +by the stories she heard from the lips of Indians who passed back and +forth upon the river. The posting of those Indians had been a happy +bit of forethought on the part of Lapierre; and their stories had lost +nothing in LeFroy's interpretation. + +Lapierre contrived to make the succeeding days busy ones. By +arrangement with Chloe, a system of credits had been established, and +from daylight to dark he was busy about the storehouse, paying off and +outfitting his canoemen, who were to fare North upon the trap-lines +until the breaking up of the ice in the spring would call them once +more to the lakes and the rivers, to move Lapierre's freight, handle +his furs, and deliver his contraband whiskey. + +Each evening Lapierre repaired to the cottage, and LeFroy at his post +in the storehouse nodded sagely to himself as the notes of the girl's +rich contralto floated loud and clear above the twang of the +accompanying guitar. + +Always the quarter-breed spoke eagerly to Chloe of the proposed trip to +Snare Lake, and bitterly he regretted the enforced delay incident to +outfitting the trappers. And always, with the skill and finesse of the +born intriguer, by a smile, a suggestion, or an adroitly worded +question, he managed to foster and to intensify her hatred for Brute +MacNair. + +On the sixth day after their departure, the scouts returned from the +Northward and reported that MacNair had travelled for many days across +the barrens, in search of the caribou herds. Followed, then, another +conference with LeFroy. The remaining canoemen were outfitted with +surprising celerity. And at midnight a big freight canoe, loaded to +the gunwale with an assortment of cheap knives and hatchets, bolts of +gay-coloured cloth, and cheaper whiskey broke through the ever +thickening skim of shore ice, and headed Northward under the personal +direction of that master of all whiskey runners, Louis LeFroy. + +The next day Lapierre, with a great show of eagerness, informed Chloe +that he was ready to undertake the journey to Snare Lake. +Enthusiastically the girl set about her preparation, and the following +morning, accompanied by Big Lena and Lapierre, took her place in a +canoe manned by four lean-shouldered paddlers. + + +Just below "the narrows," on the northeastern shore of Snare Lake, and +almost upon the site of Old Fort Enterprise, erected and occupied by +Lieutenant, later Sir John Franklin during the second winter of his +first Arctic expedition, Bob MacNair had built his fort. The fort +itself differed in no important particular from many of the log trading +forts of the Hudson Bay Company. Grouped about the long, low building, +within the enclosure of the log stockade, were the cabins of Indians +who had forsaken the vicissitudes of the lean, barren grounds and +attached themselves permanently to MacNair's colony. + +Under his tutelage, they learned to convert the work of their hands +into something more nearly approaching the comforts of existence than +anything they had ever known. Where, as trappers of fur, they had +succeeded, by dint of untold hardship and privation and suffering, in +obtaining the barest necessities of life from the great fur company, +they now found themselves housed in warm, comfortable cabins, eating +good food, and clothing their bodies, and the bodies of their wives and +children, in thick, warm clothing that defied the rigours of the Arctic +winters. + +While to the credit of each man, upon MacNair's books, stood an amount +in tokens of "made beaver," which to any trapper in all the Northland +would have spelled wealth beyond wildest dreams. And so they came to +respect this stern, rugged man who dealt with them fairly--to love him, +and also to fear him. And upon Snare Lake his word became the law, +from which there was no appeal. Tender as a woman in sickness, +counting no cost or hardship too dear in the rendering of assistance to +the needy, he was at the same time hard and unbending toward wilful +offenders, and a very real terror to the enemies of his people. + +He had killed men for selling whiskey to his Indians. And those of his +own people who drank the whiskey, he had flogged with +dog-whips--floggings that had been administered in no half-hearted or +uncertain manner, and that had ceased only upon the tiring of his arm. +And many there were among his Indians who could testify that the arm +was slow to tire. + +To this little colony, upon the fourth day after his departure from +Chloe Elliston's school on the Yellow Knife, came LeFroy with his +freighted canoe. And because it was not his first trip among them, all +knew his mission. + +It so happened that at the time MacNair left for the barren grounds, +Sotenah, the leader of the young men, the orator who had lauded MacNair +to the skies and counselled a summary wiping out of Chloe Elliston's +school, chanced to be laid up with an injury to his foot. And, as he +could not accompany the hunters, MacNair placed him in charge of the +fort during his absence. Upon his back Sotenah carried scars of many +floggings. And the memory of these remained with him long after the +deadly effects of the cheap whiskey that begot them had passed away. +And now, as he stood upon the shore of the lake surrounded by the old +men, and the boys who were not yet permitted to take the caribou trail, +his face was sullen and black as he greeted LeFroy. For the feel of +the bite of the gut-lash was strong upon him. + +"_B'jo'_! _B'jo'_! _Nitchi_!" greeted LeFroy, smiling into the +scowling face. + +"_B'jo'_!" grunted the younger man with evident lack of enthusiasm. + +"_Kah_ MacNair?" + +The Indian returned a noncommittal shrug. + +LeFroy repeated his question, at the same time taking from his pocket a +cheap clasp-knife which he extended toward the Indian. The other +regarded the knife in silence; then, reaching out his hand, took it +from LeFroy and examined it gravely. + +"How much?" he asked. LeFroy laughed. + +"You ke'p," he said, and stepping to the canoe, threw back the blanket, +exposing to the covetous eyes of the assembled Indians the huge pile of +similar knives, and the hatchets, and the bolts of gay-coloured goods. + +A few moments of adroit questioning sufficed to acquaint LeFroy with +MacNair's prices for similar goods; and the barter began. + +Where MacNair and the Hudson Bay Company charged ten "skins," or "made +beaver," for an article, LeFroy charged five, or four, or even three, +until the crowding Indians became half-crazed with the excitement of +barter. And while this excitement was at its height, with scarcely +half of his goods disposed of, LeFroy suddenly declared he would sell +no more, and stepping into the canoe pushed out from the bank. + +He turned a deaf ear to the frantic clamourings of those who had been +unable to secure the wonderful bargains, and ordering his canoemen to +paddle down the lake some two or three hundred yards, deliberately +prepared to camp. Hardly had his canoe touched the shore before he was +again surrounded by the clamouring mob. Whereupon he faced them and, +striking an attitude, harangued them in their own tongue. + +He had come, he said, hoping to find MacNair and to plead with him to +deal fairly with his people. It is true that MacNair pays more for the +labour of their hands than the company does for their furs, and in +doing so he has proved himself a friend of the Indians. But he can +well afford to pay more. Is not the _pil chickimin_--the gold--worth +more even than the finest of skins? + +He reached beneath the blankets and, drawing forth one of the cheap +knives, held it aloft. For years, he told them, the great fur company +has been robbing the Indians. Has been charging them two, three, four, +and even ten times the real value of the goods they offer in barter. +But the Indians have not known this. Even he, LeFroy, did not know it +until the _kloshe kloochman_--the good white woman--came into the North +and built a school at the mouth of the Yellow Knife. She is the real +friend of the Indians. For she brought goods, even more goods than are +found in the largest of the Hudson Bay posts, and she sells them at +prices unheard of--at their real value in the land of the white man. + +"See now!" he cried, holding the knife aloft, "in the store of MacNair, +for this knife you will pay eight skins. Who will buy it for two?" + +A dozen Indians crowded forward, and the knife passed into the hands of +an old squaw. Other knives and hatchets changed hands, and yards of +bolt goods were sold at prices that caused the black eyes of the +purchasers to glitter with greed. + +"Why do you stay here?" cried LeFroy suddenly. "Oh! my people, why do +you remain to toil all your lives in the mines--to be robbed of the +work of your hands? Come to the Yellow Knife and join those who are +already enjoying the fruits of their labours! Where all have plenty, +and none are asked to toil and dig in the dirt of the mines. Where all +that is required is to sit in the school and learn from books, and +become wise in the ways of the white man." + +The half-breed paused, swaying his body to and fro as he gazed intently +into the eyes of the greed-crazed horde. Suddenly his voice arose +almost to a shriek. "You are free men--dwellers in a free land! Who +is MacNair, that he should hold you in servitude? Why should you toil +to enrich him? Why should you bow down beneath his tyranny? Who is +_he_ to make laws that you shall obey?" He shifted his gaze to the +upturned face of Sotenah. "Who is he to say: 'You shall drink no +firewater'? And who is he to flog you when you break that law? I tell +you in the great storehouse on the Yellow Knife is firewater for all! +The white man's drink! The drink that makes men strong--and happy--and +wise as gods!" + +He called loudly. Two of his canoemen rolled a cask to his feet, and, +upending it, broached in the head. Seizing a tin cup, LeFroy plunged +it into the cask and drank with a great smacking of lips. Then, +refilling the cup, he passed it to Sotenah. + +"See!" he cried, "it is a present from the _kloshe kloochman_ to the +people of MacNair! The people who are down-trodden and oppressed!" +Under the spell of the man's words, all fear of the wrath of MacNair +vanished, and Sotenah greedily seized the cup and drank, while about +him crowded the others rendering the night hideous with their frenzied +cries of exultation. + +The cask was quickly emptied, and another broached. Old men, women, +and children, all drank--and fighting, and leaping, and dancing, and +yelling, returned to drink again. For, never within the memory of the +oldest, had any Indian drunk the white man's whiskey for which he had +not paid. + +Darkness fell. Fires were lighted upon the beach, and the wild orgy +continued. Other casks were opened, and the drink-crazed Indians +yelled and fought and sang in a perfect frenzy of delirium. +Fire-brands were hurled high into the air, to fall whirling among the +cabins. And it was these whirling brands that riveted the attention of +the occupants of the big canoe that approached swiftly along the shore +from the direction of the Yellow Knife. LeFroy had timed his work +well. In the bow, Lapierre, with a grim smile upon his thin lips, +watched the arcs of the whirling brands, while from their position +amidship, Chloe and Big Lena stared fascinated upon the scene. + +"What are they doing?" cried the girl in amazement. Lapierre turned +and smiled into her eyes. + +"We have come," he answered, "at a most opportune time. You are about +to see MacNair's Indians at their worst. For they seem to be even more +drunk than usual. It is MacNair's way--to make them drunk while he +looks on and laughs." + +"Do you mean," cried the girl in horror, "that they are drunk?" + +Lapierre smiled. "Very drunk," he answered dryly. "It is the only way +MacNair can hold them--by allowing them free license at frequent +intervals. For well the Indians know that nowhere else in all the +North would this thing be permitted. Therefore, they remain with +MacNair." + +The canoe had drawn close now, and the figures of the Indians were +plainly discernible. Many were lying sprawled upon the ground, while +others leaped and danced in the red flare of the flames. At frequent +intervals, above the sound of the frenzied shouts and weird chants, +arose the sharp rattle of shots, as the Indians fired recklessly into +the air. + +At a signal from Lapierre the canoemen ceased paddling. Chloe's eyes +flashed an inquiry, and Lapierre shook his head. + +"We can venture no closer," he explained. "At such times their +deviltry knows no bounds. They would make short shrift of anyone who +would venture among them this night." + +Chloe nodded. "I have no wish to go farther!" she cried. "I have seen +enough, and more than enough! When this night's work shall become +known in Ottawa, its echo shall ring from Labrador to the Yukon until +throughout all Canada the name of MacNair shall be hated and despised!" + +At the words, Lapierre glanced into her flushed face, and, removing his +hat, bowed reverently. "God grant that your prophecy may be fulfilled. +And I speak, not because of any hatred for MacNair, but from a heart +overflowing with love and compassion for my people. For their welfare, +it is my earnest prayer that this man's just punishment shall not long +be delayed." + +While he was yet speaking, from the midst of the turmoil red flames +shot high into the air. The yelling increased tenfold, and the +frenzied horde surged toward the walls of the stockade. The cabins of +the Indians were burning! Wider and higher flared the fire, and louder +and fiercer swelled the sounds of yelling and the firing of rifles. +The walls of the stockade ignited. The fire was eating its way toward +the long, log storehouse. Instantly through the girl's mind flashed +the memory of that other night when the sky glowed red, and the crash +of rifles mingled with the hoarse roar of flames. She gazed in +fascination as the fire licked and curled above the roof of the +storehouse. Upon the shore, even the canoes were burning. + +Suddenly a wild shriek was borne to her ears. The firing of guns +ceased abruptly, and around the corner of the burning storehouse dashed +a figure of terror, hatless and coatless, with long hair streaming +wildly in the firelight. Tall, broad, and gaunt it appeared in the +light of the flaring flames, and instantly Chloe recognized the form of +Bob MacNair. Lapierre also recognized it, and gasped audibly. For at +that moment he knew MacNair should have been far across the barrens on +the trail of the caribou herd. + +"Look! Look!" cried the girl. "What is he doing?" And watched in +horror as the big man charged among the Indians, smashing, driving and +kicking his way through the howling, rum-crazed horde. At every +lashing blow of his fist, every kick of his high-laced boot, men went +down. Others reeled drunkenly from his path screaming aloud in their +fright; while across the open space in the foreground four or five men +could be seen dashing frantically for the protection of the timber. +MacNair ripped the gun from the hand of a reeling Indian and, throwing +it to his shoulder, fired. Of those who ran, one dropped, rose to his +knees, and sank backward. MacNair fired again, and another crashed +forward, and rolled over and over upon the ground. + +Lapierre watched with breathless interest while the others gained the +shelter of the timber. He wondered whether one of the two men who fell +was LeFroy. + +"Oh!" cried Chloe in horror. "He's killing them!" + +Lapierre made a swift sign to his paddlers, and the canoe shot behind a +low sand-point where, in response to a tense command, the canoemen +turned its bow southward; and, for the second time, Chloe Elliston +found herself being driven by willing hands southward upon Snare Lake. + +"He pounded--and kicked--and beat them!" sobbed the girl hysterically. +"And two of them he killed!" + +Lapierre nodded. "Yes," he answered sadly, "and he will kill more of +them. It seems that this time they got beyond even his control. For +the destruction of his buildings and his goods, he will take his toll +in lives and in the sufferings of his Indians." + +While the canoe shot southward through the darkness, Chloe sat huddled +upon her blankets. And as she watched the dull-red glow fade from the +sky above MacNair's burning fort, her heart cried out for vengeance +against this brute of the North. + +One hour, two hours, the canoe plowed the black waters of the lake, and +then, because men must rest, Lapierre reluctantly gave the order to +camp, and the tired canoemen turned the bow shoreward. + +Hardly had they taken a dozen strokes when the canoe ground sharply +against the thin, shore ice. There was the sound of ripping bark, +where the knifelike edge of the ice tore through the side of the frail +craft. Water gushed in, and Lapierre, stifling a curse that rose to +his lips, seized a paddle, and leaning over the bow began to chop +frantically at the ice. Two of the canoemen with their paddles held +her head on, while the other two, with the help of Chloe and Big Lena +endeavoured to stay the inrush of water with blankets and fragments of +clothing. + +Progress was slow. The ice thickened as they neared the shore, and +Lapierre's paddle-blade, battered upon its point and edges to a soft, +fibrous pulp, thudded softly upon the ice without breaking it. He +threw the paddle overboard and seized another. A few more yards were +won, but the shore loomed black and forbidding, and many yards away. +Despite the utmost efforts of the women and the two canoemen, the water +gained rapidly. Lapierre redoubled his exertion, chopping and stabbing +at the ever thickening shore-ice. And then suddenly his paddle crashed +through, and with a short cry of relief he rose to his feet, and leaped +into the black water, where he sank only to his middle. The canoemen +followed. And the canoe, relieved of the bulk of its burden, floated +more easily. + +Slowly they pushed shoreward through the shallow water, the men +breaking the ice before them. And a few minutes later, wet and chilled +to the bone, they stepped onto the gravel. + +Within the shelter of a small thicket a fire was built, and while the +men returned to examine the damaged canoe, the two women wrung out +their dripping garments and, returning them wet, huddled close to the +tiny blaze. The men returned to the fire, where a meal was prepared +and eaten in silence. As he ate, Chloe noticed that Lapierre seemed +ill at ease. + +"Did you repair the canoe?" she asked. The man shook his head. + +"No. It is damaged beyond any thought of repair. We removed the food +and such of its contents as are necessary, and, loading it with rocks, +sank it in the lake." + +"Sank it in the lake!" cried the girl in amazement. + +"Yes," answered Lapierre. "For even if it were not damaged, it would +be of no further use to us. Tonight the lake will freeze." + +"What are we going to do?" cried the girl. + +"There is only one thing to do," answered Lapierre quickly. "Walk to +the school. It is not such a long trail--a hundred miles or so. And +you can take it easy. You have plenty of provisions." + +"I!" cried the girl. "And what will you do?" + +"It is necessary," answered the man, "that I should make a forced +march." + +"You are going to leave me?" + +Lapierre smiled at the evident note of alarm in her voice. "I am going +to take two of the canoemen and return in all haste to your school. Do +you realize that MacNair, now that he has lost his winter provisions, +will stop at nothing to obtain more?" + +"He would not dare!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing. + +Lapierre laughed. "You do not know MacNair. You, personally, he would +not venture to molest. He will doubtless try to buy supplies from you +or from the Hudson Bay Company. But, in the meantime, while he is upon +this errand, his Indians, with no one to hold them in check, and +knowing that the supplies are in your storehouse, will swoop down upon +it, and your own Indians, without a leader, will fall an easy prey to +the hungry horde." + +"But surely," cried the girl, "LeFroy is capable----" + +"Possibly, if he were at the school," interrupted Lapierre. "But +unfortunately the day before we ourselves departed, I sent LeFroy upon +an important mission to the eastward. I think you will agree with me +upon the importance of the mission when I tell you that, as I swung out +of the mouth of Slave River at the head of the canoe brigade, I saw a +fast canoe slipping stealthily along the shore to the eastward. In +that canoe, with the aid of my binoculars, I made out two men whom I +have long suspected of being engaged in the nefarious and hellish +business of peddling whiskey among the Indians. I knew it was useless +to try to overtake them with my heavily loaded canoe, and so upon my +arrival at the school, as soon as we had concluded the outfitting of +the trappers, I dispatched LeFroy to hunt these men down, to destroy +any liquor found in their possession, and to deal with them as he saw +fit." + +He paused and gazed steadily into the girl's face. "This may seem to +you a lawless and high-handed proceeding, Miss Elliston," he went on; +"but you have just witnessed one exhibition of the tragedy that whiskey +can work among my people. In my opinion, the end justifies the means." + +The girl regarded him with shining eyes. "Indeed it does!" she cried. +"Oh, there is nothing--no punishment--too severe for such brutes, such +devils, as these! I--I hope LeFroy will catch them. I +hope--almost--he will kill them." + +Lapierre nodded. "Yes, Miss Elliston," he answered gravely, "one could +sometimes almost wish so, but I have forbidden it. The taking of a +human life is a serious matter; and in the North the exigencies of the +moment all too frequently make this imperative. As a last resort only +should we kill." + +"You are right," echoed the girl. "Only after the scene we have just +witnessed, it seemed that I myself could kill deliberately, and be glad +I killed. Truly the North breeds savagery. For I, too, have killed on +the spur of the moment!" The words fell rapidly from her lips, and she +cried out as in physical pain. "And to think that I killed in defence +of _him_! Oh, if I had let the Indian shoot that night, all this"--she +waved her hand to the northward--"would never have happened." + +"Very true, Miss Elliston," answered Lapierre softly. "But do not +blame yourself. Under the circumstances, you could not have done +otherwise." + +As he talked, two of the canoemen made up light packs from the outfit +of the wrecked canoe. Seeing that they had concluded, Lapierre arose, +and taking Chloe's hand in both of his, looked straight into her eyes. + +"Good-by," he said simply. "These Indians will conduct you in safety +to your school." And, without waiting for a reply, turned and followed +the two canoemen into the brush. + +Chloe sat for a long time staring into the flames of the tiny fire +before creeping between her damp blankets. Despite the utter +body-weariness of her long canoe-trip, the girl slept but fitfully in +her cold bed. + +In the early grey of the morning she started up nervously. Surely a +sound had awakened her. She heard it distinctly now, the sound of +approaching footsteps. She strained to locate the sound, and instantly +realized it was not the tread of moccasined feet. She threw off the +frost-stiffened blankets and leaped to her feet, shivering in the keen +air of the biting dawn. + +The sounds of the footsteps grew louder, plainer, as though someone had +turned suddenly from the shore and approached the thicket with long, +heavy strides. With muscles tense and heart bounding wildly the girl +waited. Then, scarce ten feet from her side, the thick scrub parted +with a vicious swish, and a man, hatless, glaring, and white-faced, +stood before her. The man was MacNair. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"ARREST THAT MAN!" + +Seconds passed--tense, portentous seconds--as the two stood facing each +other over the dead ashes of the little fire. Seconds in which the +white drawn features of the man engraved themselves indelibly upon +Chloe Elliston's brain. She noted the knotted muscles of the clenched +hands and the glare of the sunken eyes. Noted, also, the cringing +fear-stricken forms of the two Indians, who had awakened and lay +cowering upon their blankets. And Big Lena, whose pale-blue, fishlike +eyes stared first at one and then the other from out a face absolutely +devoid of expression. + +Suddenly a fierce, consuming anger welled into the girl's heart, and +words fell from her lips in a veritable hiss of scorn: "Have you come +to kill me, too?" + +"By God, it would be a good thing for the North if I should kill you!" + +"A good thing for MacNair, you mean!" taunted the girl. "Yes, I think +it would. Well, there is nothing to hinder you. Of course, you would +have to kill these, also." She indicated Big Lena and the Indians. +"But what are mere lives to you?" + +"They are nothing to me when the fate of my people is at stake! And at +this very moment their fate--their whole future--the future of their +children and their children's children--is at stake, as it has never +been at stake before. Many times in my life have I faced crises: but +never such a crisis as this. And always I have won, regardless of +cost--but the cost only _I_ have ever known." + +His eyes glared, and he seemed a madman in his berserk rage. He drove +a huge fist into his upturned palm and fairly shouted his words: "I am +MacNair! And if there is a God in heaven, I will win! From this +moment, it is my life or Lapierre's! Since last night's outrage there +can be no truce--no quibbling--no parleying--no half-way measures! My +friends are my friends, and his friends are my enemies! The war is +on--and it will be a fight to the finish. A fight that may well +disrupt the North!" He shook his clenched fist before the face of the +girl. "I have taken the man-trail! I am MacNair! And at the end of +that trail will lie a dead man--myself or Pierre Lapierre!" + +"And at the beginning of the trail lie _two_ dead men," sneered Chloe. +"Those who started for the timber----" + +"And, by God, if necessary, the trail will be _paved with dead men_! +For Lapierre, the day of reckoning is at hand." + +Chloe took a step forward, and with blazing eyes stood trembling with +anger before the man. "And how about _your own_ day of reckoning? You +have told me that I am a fool; but it is you who are the fool! You +killer of helpless men! You debaucher of women and children! You +trader in souls! As you say, the day of reckoning is at hand--not for +Lapierre, but for _you_! Until this day you have not taken me +seriously. I _have_ been a fool--a blind, trusting fool. You have +succeeded, in spite of what I have heard--in spite of my better +judgment--in spite even of what I have seen, in making me believe that, +possibly you had been misunderstood; had been painted blacker than you +really are. At times I almost _believed_ in you; but I have since +learned enough from the mouths of your own Indians to convince me of my +folly. And after what I saw last night--" She paused in very horror +of the thought, and MacNair glared into her outraged eyes. + +"You saw that? You stood by and witnessed the ruination of my Indians? +Deliberately watched them changed from sober, industrious, +simple-hearted children of the wild into a howling, drink-crazed horde +of beasts that thirsted for blood--tore at each other's throats--and, +in the frenzy of their madness, burned their own homes, and their +winter's supplies and provisions? You stood by and saw them glutted +with the whiskey from your storehouse--by your own paid creatures----" + +"Whiskey from my storehouse!" The girl's voice rose to a scream, and +MacNair interrupted her savagely: + +"Aye, whiskey from your storehouse! Brought in by Lapierre, and by +Lapierre cunningly and freely given out to my Indians." + +"You are crazy! You are mad! You do not know what you are saying? +But if you _do_ know, you are the most consummate liar on the face of +the earth! Of all things absurd! Is it possible that you hope by any +such preposterous and flimsy fabrication to escape the punishment which +will surely and swiftly be meted out to you? Will, you tell that to +the Mounted? And will you tell it to the judge and the jury? What +will they say when I have told my story, and have had it corroborated +by your own Indians--those Indians who have fled to my school to seek a +haven of refuge from your tyranny? I have my manifest. My goods were +inspected and passed by the Mounted----" + +"Inspected and passed! And why? Because they were _your_ goods, and +the men of the Mounted have yet to suspect you. The inspection was +perfunctorily made. And as for the manifest--I did not say it was your +whiskey. I said, 'whiskey from your storehouse.' It was Lapierre's +whiskey. And he succeeded in running it in by the boldest, and at the +same time the cleverest and safest method--disguised as your freight. +Tell me this: Did you check your pieces upon their arrival at your +storehouse?" + +"No; Lapierre did that, or LeFroy." + +"And Lapierre, having first ascertained that I was far on the caribou +trail, succeeded in slipping the whiskey to my Indians, but he----" + +"Mr. Lapierre was with me! Accuse him and you accuse me, also. He +brought me here because I wished to see for myself the condition of +your Indians--the condition of which I had so often heard." + +"Was LeFroy, also, with you?" + +"LeFroy was away upon a mission, and that mission was to capture two +others of your ilk--two whiskey-runners!" + +MacNair laughed harshly. "Good LeFroy!" he exclaimed in derision. +"Great God, you are a fool! You yourself saw LeFroy and his satellites +rushing wildly for the shelter of the timber, when I unexpectedly +appeared among them." The light of exultation leaped into his eyes. +"I killed two of them, but LeFroy escaped. Lapierre timed his work +well. And had it not been that one of my Indians, who was a spy in +Lapierre's camp, learned of his plan and followed me across the +barrens, Lapierre would have had ample time, after the destruction of +my fort, to have scattered my Indians to the four winds. When I +learned of his plot, I forced the trail as I never had forced a trail, +in the hope of arriving in time to prevent the catastrophe. I reached +the fort too late to save my Indians from your human wolf-pack, their +homes from the flames, and my buildings and my property from +destruction. But, thank God, it is not too late to wreck my vengeance +upon the enemies of my people! For the trail is hot, and I will follow +it, if need be, to the end of the earth." + +"Your love for your Indians is, indeed, touching. I witnessed a +demonstration of that love last night, when you battered and kicked and +hurled them about in their drunken and helpless condition. But, tell +me, what will become of them while you are following your trail of +blood--the trail you so fondly imagine will terminate in the death of +Lapierre, but which will, as surely and inevitably as justice itself, +lead you to a prison cell, if not the gallows?" + +MacNair regarded the girl almost fiercely. "I must leave my Indians," +he answered, "for the present, to their own devices. For the simple +reason that I cannot be in two places at the same time." + +"But their supplies were burned! They will starve!" cried the girl. +"It would seem that one who really loved his Indians would have his +first thought for their welfare. But no; you prefer to take the trail +and kill men; men who may at some future time tell their story upon the +witness-stand; a story that will not sound pretty in the telling, and +that will mark the crash of your reign of tyranny. 'Safety first' is +your slogan, and your Indians may starve while you murder men." The +girl paused and suddenly became conscious that MacNair was regarding +her with a strange look in his eyes. And at his next words she could +scarcely believe her ears. + +"Will you care for my Indians?" + +The question staggered her. "What!" she managed to gasp. + +"Just what I said," answered MacNair gruffly. "Will you care for my +Indians until such time as I shall return to them--until I have ridded +the North of Lapierre?" + +"Do you mean," cried the astonished girl, "will I care for your +Indians--the same Indians who attacked my school--who only last night +fought like fiends among themselves, and burned their own homes?" + +"Just that!" answered MacNair. "The Indian who warned me of Lapierre's +plot told me, also, of the arrival of your supplies--sufficient, he +said, to feed the whole North. You will not lose by it. Name your own +price, and I shall pay whatever you ask." + +"Price!" flashed the girl. "Do you think I would take your gold--the +gold that has been wrung from the hearts' blood of your Indians?" + +"On your own terms, then," answered MacNair. "Will you take them? +Surely this arrangement should be to your liking. Did you not tell me +yourself, upon the occasion of our first meeting, that you intended to +use every means in your power to induce my Indians to attend your +school? That you would teach them that they are free? That they owe +allegiance and servitude to no man? That you would educate and show +them they were being robbed and cheated and forced into serfdom? That +you intended to appeal to their better natures, to their manhood and +womanhood? I think those were your words. Did you not say that? And +did you mean it? Or was it the idle boast of an angry woman?" + +Chloe interrupted him. "Yes, I said that, and I meant it! And I mean +it now!" + +"You have your chance," growled MacNair, "I impose no restrictions. I +shall command them to obey you; even to attend your school, if you +wish! You will hardly have time to do them much harm. As I told you, +the North is not ready for your education. But I know that you are +honest. You are a fool, and the time is not far distant when you +yourself will realize this; when you will learn that you have become +the unwitting dupe of one of the shrewdest and most diabolical +scoundrels that ever drew breath. Again I tell you that some day you +and I shall be friends! At this moment you hate me. But I know it is +through ignorance you hate. I have small patience with your ignorance; +but, also, at this moment you are the only person in all the North with +whom I would trust my Indians. Lapierre, from now on, will be past +charming them. I shall see to it that he is kept so busy in the matter +of saving his own hide that he will have scant time for deviltry." + +Still Chloe appeared to hesitate. And through MacNair's mind flashed +the memory of the rapier-blade eyes that stared from out the dull gold +frame of the portrait that hung upon the wall of the little +cottage---eyes that were the eyes of the girl before him. + +"Well," he asked with evident impatience, "are you _afraid_ of these +Indians?" + +The flashing eyes of the girl told him that the shot had struck home. +"No!" she cried. "I am not afraid! Send your Indians to me, if you +will; and when you send them, bid good-by to them forever." + +MacNair nodded. "I will send them," he answered, and, turning abruptly +upon his heel, disappeared into the scrub. + + +The journey down the Yellow Knife consumed six days, and it was a +journey fraught with many hardships for Chloe Elliston, unaccustomed as +she was to trail travel. The little-used trail, following closely the +bank of the stream, climbed low, rock-ribbed ridges, traversed black +spruce swamps, and threaded endlessly in and out of the scrub timber. +Nevertheless, the girl held doggedly to the slow pace set by the +canoemen. + +When at last, foot-sore and weary, with nerves a-jangle, and with every +muscle in her body protesting with its own devilishly ingenious ache +against the overstrain of the long, rough miles and the chill misery of +damp blankets, she arrived at the school, Lapierre was nowhere to be +found. For the wily quarter-breed, knowing that MacNair would +instantly suspect the source of the whiskey, had, upon his arrival, +removed the remaining casks from the storehouse, and conveyed them with +all haste to his stronghold on Lac du Mort. + +Upon her table in the cottage, Chloe found a brief note to the effect +that Lapierre had been, forced to hasten to the eastward to aid LeFroy +in dealing with the whiskey-runners. The girl had scant time to think +of Lapierre, however, for upon the morning after her arrival, MacNair +appeared, accompanied by a hundred or more dejected and woe-begone +Indians. Despite the fact that Chloe had known them only as fierce +roisterers she was forced to admit that they looked harmless and +peaceful enough, under the chastening effect of a week of starvation. + +MacNair wasted no time, but striding up to the girl, who stood upon the +veranda of her cottage, plunged unceremoniously into the business at +hand. + +"Do not misunderstand me," he began gruffly. "I did not bring my +Indians here to receive the benefits of your education, nor as a sop to +your anger, nor for any other reason than to procure for them food and +shelter until such time as I myself can provide for them. If they were +trappers this would be unnecessary. But they have long since abandoned +the trap-lines, and in the whole village there could not be found +enough traps to supply one tenth of their number with the actual +necessities of life. I have sent runners to the young men upon the +barren grounds, with orders to continue the caribou kill and bring the +meat to you here. I have given my Indians their instructions. They +will cause you no trouble, and will be subject absolutely to your +commands. And now, I must be on my way. I must pick up the trail of +Lapierre. And when I return, I shall confront you with evidence that +will prove to you beyond a doubt that the words I have spoken are true!" + +"And I will confront you," retorted the girl, "with evidence that will +place you behind prison bars for the rest of your life!" Again Chloe +saw in the grey eyes the twinkle that held more than the suspicion of a +smile. + +"I think I would make but a poor prisoner," the man answered. "But if +I am to be a prisoner I warn you that I will run the prison. I am +MacNair!" Something in the man's look--he was gazing straight into her +eyes with a peculiar intense gaze--caused the girl to start, while a +sudden indescribable feeling of fear, of helplessness before this man, +flashed over her. The feeling passed in an instant and she sneered +boldly into MacNair's face. + +"My, how you hate yourself!" she cried. "And how long is it, Mr. Brute +MacNair--" was it fancy, or did the man wince at the emphasis of the +name? She repeated, with added emphasis, "Mr. Brute MacNair, since you +have deemed it worth your while to furnish me with evidence? You told +me once, I believe, that you cared nothing for my opinion. Is it +possible that you hope at this late day to flatter me with my own +importance?" + +MacNair, in no wise perturbed, regarded her gravely. "No," he answered +"It is not that, it is--" He paused as if at a loss for words. "I do +not know why," he continued, "unless, perhaps, it is because--because +you have no fear of me. That you do not fear to take your life into +your hands in defence of what you think is right. It may be that I +have learned a certain respect for you. Certainly I do not pity you. +At times you have made me very angry with your foolish blundering, +until I remember it is honest blundering, and that some day you will +know the North, and will know that north of sixty, men are not measured +by your little rule of thumb. Always I have gone my way, caring no +more for the approval of others than I have for their hatred or +scoffing. I know the North! Why should I care for the opinion of +others? If they do not know, so much the worse for them. The +reputation of being a fool injures no one. Had I not been thought a +fool by the men of the Hudson Bay Company they would not have sold me +the barren grounds whose sands are loaded with gold." + +"And yet you said _I_ was a fool," interrupted Chloe. "According to +your theory, that fact should redound to my credit." + +MacNair answered without a smile. "I did not say that _being_ a fool +injured no one. You _are_ a fool. Of your reputation I know nothing, +nor care." He turned abruptly on his heel and walked to the +storehouse, leaving the girl, speechless with anger, standing upon the +veranda of the cottage, as she watched his swinging shoulders disappear +from sight around the corner of the log building. + +With flushed face, Chloe turned toward the river, and instantly her +attention centred upon the figure of a man, who swung out of the timber +and approached across the clearing in long, easy strides. She regarded +the man closely. Certainly he was no one she had ever seen before. He +was very near now, and at the distance of a few feet, paused and bowed, +as he swept the Stetson from his head. The girl's heart gave a wild +bound of joy. The man wore the uniform of the Mounted! + +"Miss Elliston?" he asked. + +"Yes," answered Chloe, as her glance noted the clear-cut, almost boyish +lines of the weather-bronzed face. + +"I am Corporal Ripley, ma'am, at your service. I happened on a Fort +Rae Injun--a Dog Rib, a few days since, and he told me some kind of a +yarn about a band of Yellow Knives that had attacked your post some +time during the summer. I couldn't get much out of him because he +could speak only a few words of English, and I can't speak any Dog Rib. +Besides, you can't go much on what an Indian tells you. When you come +to sift down their dope, it generally turns out to be nine parts lies +and the other part divided between truth, superstition, and guess-work. +Constable Darling, at Fort Resolution, said he'd received no complaint, +so I didn't hurry through." + +With a swift glance toward the storehouse, into which MacNair had +disappeared, Chloe motioned the man into the cottage. "The--the attack +was nothing," she hastened to assure him. "But there is something--a +complaint that I wish to make against a man who is, and has been for +years, doing all in his power to debauch and brutalize the Indians of +the North." The girl paced nervously up and down as she spoke, and she +noted that the youthful officer leaned forward expectantly, his wide +boyish eyes narrowed to slits. + +"Yes," he urged eagerly, "who is this man? And have you got the +evidence to back your charge? For I take it from your words you intend +to make a charge." + +"Yes," answered Chloe. "I do intend to make a charge, and I have my +evidence. The man is MacNair. Brute MacNair he is called----" + +"What! MacNair of Snare Lake--Bob MacNair of the barren grounds?" + +"Yes, Bob MacNair of the barren grounds." A moment of silence followed +her words. A silence during which the officer's face assumed a +troubled expression. + +"You are sure there is no mistake?" he asked at length. + +"There is no mistake!" flashed the girl. "With my own eyes I have seen +enough to convict a dozen men!" + +Even as she spoke, a form passed the window, and a heavy tread sounded +on the veranda. Stepping quickly to the door, Chloe flung it open, and +pointing toward MacNair, who stood, rifle in hand, cried; "Officer, +arrest that man!" + +Corporal Ripley, who had risen to his feet, stood gazing from one to +the other; while MacNair, speechless, stared straight into the eyes of +the girl. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MACNAIR GOES TO JAIL + +The silence in the little room became almost painful. MacNair uttered +no word as his glance strayed from the flushed, excited face of the +girl to the figure of Corporal Ripley, who stood hat in hand, gazing +from one to the other with eyes plainly troubled by doubt and +perplexity. + +"Well, why don't you do something?" cried the girl, at length. "It +seems to me if I were a man I could think of something to do besides +stand and gape!" + +Corporal Ripley cleared his throat. "Do I understand," he began +stiffly, "that you intend to prefer certain charges against +MacNair--that you demand his arrest?" + +"I should _think_ you would understand it!" retorted the girl. "I have +told you three or four times." + +The officer flushed slightly and shifted the hat from his right to his +left hand. + +"Just step inside, MacNair," he said, and then to the girl: "I'll +listen to you now, if you please. You must make specific charges, you +know--not just hearsay. Arresting a man in this country is a serious +matter, Miss Elliston. We are seven hundred miles from a jail, and the +law expects us to use discretion in making an arrest. It don't do us +any good at headquarters to bring in a man unless we can back up our +charge with strong evidence, because the item of transportation of +witnesses and prisoner may easily run up into big money. On the other +hand it's just as bad if we fail or delay in bringing a guilty man to +book. What we want is specific evidence. I don't tell you this to +discourage any just complaint, but only to show you that we've got to +have direct and specific evidence. Now, Miss Elliston, I'll hear what +you've got to say." + +Chloe sank into a chair and motioned the others to be seated. "We may +as well sit down while we talk. I will try to tell you only the facts +as I myself have seen them--only such as I could swear to on a witness +stand." The officer bowed, and Chloe plunged directly into the subject. + +"In the first place," she began, "when I brought my outfit in I noticed +in the scows, certain pieces with the name of MacNair painted on the +burlap. The rest of the outfit, I think, consisted wholly of my own +freight. I wondered at the time who MacNair was, but didn't make any +inquiries until I happened to mention the matter to Mr. Lapierre. That +was on Slave River. Mr. Lapierre seemed very much surprised that any +of MacNair's goods should be in his scows. He examined the pieces and +then with an ax smashed them in. They contained whiskey." + +"And he destroyed it? Can you swear it was whiskey?" asked the officer. + +"Certainly, I can swear it was whiskey! I saw it and _smelled_ it." + +"Can you explain why Lapierre did not know of these pieces, until you +called his attention to them?" + +Chloe hesitated a moment and tapped nervously on the table with her +fingers. "Yes," she answered, "I can. Mr. Lapierre took charge of the +outfit only that morning." + +"Who was the boss scowman? Who took the scows down the Athabasca?" + +"A man named Vermilion. He was a half-breed, I think. Anyway, he was +a horrible creature." + +"Where is Vermilion now?" + +Again Chloe hesitated. "He is dead," she answered. "Mr. Lapierre shot +him. He shot him in self-defence, after Vermilion had shot another +man." + +The officer nodded, and Chloe called upon Big Lena to corroborate the +statement that Lapierre had destroyed certain whiskey upon the bank of +Slave Lake. "Is that all?" asked the officer. + +"No, indeed!" answered Chloe. "That isn't all! Only last week, I went +to visit MacNair's fort on Snare Lake in company with Mr. Lapierre and +Lena, and four canoemen. We got there shortly after dark. Fires had +been built on the beach--many of them almost against the walls of the +stockade. As we drew near, we heard loud yells and howlings that +sounded like the cries of animals, rather than of human beings. We +approached very close to the shore where the figures of the Indians +were distinctly visible by the light of the leaping names. It was then +we realized that a wild orgy of indescribable debauchery was in +progress. The Indians were raving drunk. Some lay upon the ground in +a stupor--others danced and howled and threw fire-brands about in +reckless abandon. + +"We dared not land, but held the canoe off shore and watched the +horrible scene. We had not long to wait before the inevitable +happened. The whirling fire-brands falling among the cabins and +against the walls of the stockade started a conflagration, which soon +spread to the storehouse. And then MacNair appeared on the scene, +rushing madly among the Indians, striking, kicking, and hurling them +about. A few sought to save themselves by escaping to the timber. +And, jerking a rifle from the hand of an Indian, MacNair fired twice at +the fleeing men. Two of them fell and the others escaped into the +timber." + +"You did not see any whiskey in the possession of these Indians?" asked +Corporal Ripley. "You merely surmised they were drunk by their +actions?" + +Chloe nodded. "Yes," she admitted, "but certainly there can be no +doubt that they were drunk. Men who are not drunk do not----" + +MacNair interrupted her. "They were drunk," he said quietly, "very +drunk." + +"You admit that?" asked the officer in surprise. "I must warn you, +MacNair, that anything you say may be used against you." MacNair +nodded. + +"And, as to the killing of the men," continued Chloe, "I charge MacNair +with their murder." + +"Murder is a very serious charge, Miss Elliston. Let's go over the +facts again. You say you were in a canoe near the shore--you saw a man +you say was MacNair grab a rifle from an Indian and kill two men. Stop +and think, now--it was night and you saw all this by firelight--are you +sure the man who fired the shots was MacNair?" + +"Absolutely!" cried the girl, with a trace of irritation. + +"It was I who shot," interrupted MacNair. + +The officer regarded him curiously and again addressed the girl. "Once +more, Miss Elliston, do you know that the men you saw fall are dead? +Mere shooting won't sustain a charge of murder." + +Chloe hesitated. "No," she admitted reluctantly. "I did not examine +their dead bodies, if that is what you mean. But MacNair afterward +told me that he killed them, and I can swear to having seen them fall." + +"The men are dead," said MacNair. + +The officer stared in astonishment. Chloe also was puzzled by the +frank admission of the man, and she gazed into his face as though +striving to pierce its mask and discover an ulterior motive. MacNair +returned her gaze unflinchingly and again the girl felt an +indescribable sense of smallness--of helplessness before this man of +the North, whose very presence breathed strength and indomitable +man-power. + +"Was it possible," she wondered, "that he would dare to flaunt this +strength in the very face of the law?" She turned to Corporal Ripley, +who was making notes with a pencil in a little note-book. "Well," she +asked, "is my evidence _specific_ enough to warrant this man's arrest?" + +The officer nodded slowly. "Yes," he answered gravely. "The evidence +warrants an arrest. Very probably several arrests." + +"You mean," asked the girl, "that you think he may have--an accomplice?" + +"No, Miss Elliston, I don't mean that. In spite of your evidence and +his own words, I don't think MacNair is guilty. There is something +queer here. I guess there is no doubt that whiskey has been run into +the territory, and that it has been supplied to the Indians. You +charge MacNair with these crimes, and I've got to arrest him." + +Chloe was about to retort, when the officer interrupted her with a +gesture. + +"Just a moment, please," he said quietly; "I'm not sure I can make +myself plain to you, but you see in the North we know something of +MacNair's work. Of what he has done in spite of the odds. We know the +North needs men like MacNair. You claim to be a friend of the Indians. +Do you realize that up on Snare Lake, right now, are a bunch of Indians +who depend on MacNair for their existence? MacNair's absence will +cause suffering among them and even death. If his storehouse has been +burned, what are they going to eat? On your statements I've got to +enter charges against MacNair. First and foremost the charge of +murder. He will also be charged with importing liquor, having liquor +in prohibited territory, smuggling whiskey, and supplying liquor to the +Indians. + +"Now, Miss Elliston, for the good of those Indians on Snare Lake I want +you to withdraw the charge of murder. The other offences are bailable +ones, and in my judgment he should be allowed to return to his Indians. +Then, when his trial comes up at the spring assizes, the charge of +murder can be placed against him. I'll bet a year's pay, MacNair isn't +to blame. In the meantime we will get busy and comb the barrens for +the real criminals. I've got a hunch. And you can take my word that +justice shall be done, no matter where the blow falls." + +Suddenly, through Chloe's mind flashed the memory of what Lapierre had +told her of the Mounted. She arose to her feet and, drawing herself up +haughtily, glared into the face of the officer. When she spoke, her +voice rang hard with scorn. + +"It is very evident that you don't want to arrest MacNair. I have +heard that he is a law unto himself--that he would defy arrest--that he +has the Mounted subsidized. I did not believe it at the time. I +regarded it merely as the exaggerated statement of a man who justly +hates him. But it seems this man was right. You need not trouble +yourself about MacNair's Indians. I will stand sponsor for their +welfare. They are my Indians now. I warn you that the day of MacNair +is past. I refuse to withdraw a single word of my charges against him, +and you will either arrest him, or I shall go straight to Ottawa. And +I shall never rest until I have blazoned before the world the whole +truth about your rotten system! What will Canada say, when she learns +that the Mounted--the men who have been held up before all the world as +models of bravery, efficiency, and honour--are as crooked and grafting +as--as the police of New York?" + +Corporal Ripley's face showed red through the tan, and he started to +his feet with an exclamation of anger. "Hold on, Corporal." The voice +of MacNair was the quiet voice with which one sooths a petulant child. +He remained seated and pushed the Stetson toward the back of his head. +"She really believes it. Don't hold it against her. It is not her +fault. When the smoke has cleared away and she gets her bearings, +we're all going to like her. In fact, I'm thinking that the time is +coming when the only one who will hate her will be herself. I like her +now; though she is not what you'd call my friend. I mean--not yet." + +Corporal Ripley gazed in astonishment at MacNair and then very frigidly +he turned to Chloe. "Then the charge of murder stands?" + +"Yes, it does," answered the girl. "If he were allowed to go free now +there would be three murders instead of two by the time of the spring +assizes or whatever you call them, for he is even now upon the trail of +a man he has threatened to kill. I can give you his exact words. He +said: 'I have taken the man-trail . . . and at the end of that trail +will lie a dead man--myself or Pierre Lapierre!'" + +"Lapierre!" exclaimed the officer. "What has he got to do with it?" +He turned to MacNair as if expecting an answer. But MacNair remained +silent. "Why don't you charge Lapierre with the crimes you told me he +was guilty of?" taunted the girl. Again she saw that baffling twinkle +in the grey eyes of the man. Then the eyes hardened. + +"The last thing I desire is the arrest of Lapierre," he answered. +"Lapierre must answer to me." The words, pronounced slowly and +distinctly, rasped hard. In spite of herself, Chloe shuddered. + +Corporal Ripley shifted uneasily. "We'd better be going, MacNair," he +said. "There's something queer about this whole business--something I +don't quite understand. It's up to me to take you up the river; but, +believe me, I'm coming back! I'll get at the bottom of this thing if +it takes me five years. Are you ready?" + +MacNair nodded. + +"I can let you have some Indians," suggested the girl. + +"What for?" + +"Why, for a guard, of course; to help you with your prisoner." + +Ripley drew himself up and answered abruptly: "The Mounted is quite +capable of managing its own affairs, Miss Elliston. I don't need your +Indians, thank you." + +Chloe glanced wrathfully into the boyish face of the officer. "Suit +yourself," she answered sweetly. "But if I were you, I'd want a whole +regiment of Indians. Because if MacNair wants to, he'll eat you up." + +"He won't want to," snapped Ripley. "I don't taste good." + +As they passed out of the door, MacNair turned. "Good-by, Miss +Elliston," he said gravely. "Beware of Pierre Lapierre." Chloe made +no reply and as MacNair turned to go, he chanced to glance into the +wide, expressionless face of Big Lena, who had stood throughout the +interview leaning heavily against the jamb of the kitchen door. +Something inscrutable in the stare of the fishlike, china-blue eyes +clung in his memory, and try as he would in the days that followed, +MacNair could not fathom the meaning of that stare, if indeed it had +any meaning. MacNair did not know why, but in some inexplainable +manner the memory of that look eased many a weary mile. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A FRAME-UP + +News, of a kind, travels on the wings of the wind across wastes of the +farther land. Principalities may fall, nations crash, and kingdoms +sink into oblivion, and the North will neither know nor care. For the +North has its own problems--vital problems, human problems--and +therefore big. Elemental, portentous problems, having to do with life +and the eating of meat. + +In the crash and shift of man-made governments; in the redistribution +of man-constituted authority, and man-gathered surplus of increment, +the North has no part. On the cold side of sixty there is no surplus, +and men think in terms of meat, and their possessions are meat-getting +possessions. Guns, nets, and traps, even of the best, insure but a +bare existence. And in the lean years, which are the seventh +years--the years of the rabbit plague--starvation stalks in the +teepees, and gaunt, sunken-eyed forms, dry-lipped, and with the skin +drawn tightly over protruding ribs, stiffen between shoddy blankets. +For even the philosophers of the land of God and the H.B.C. must eat to +live--if not this week, at least once next week. + +The H.B.C., taking wise cognizance of the seventh year, extends it +credit--"debt" it is called in the outlands--but it puts no more wool +in its blankets, and for lack of food the body-fires burn low. But the +cold remains inexorable. And with the thermometer at seventy degrees +below zero, even in the years of plenty, when the philosophers eat +almost daily, there is little of comfort. With the thermometer at +seventy in the lean years, the suffering is diminished by the passing +of many philosophers. + +The arrest of Bob MacNair was a matter of sovereign import to the +dwellers of the frozen places, and word of it swept like wildfire +through the land of the lakes and rivers. Yet in all the North those +upon whom it made the least impression were those most vitally +concerned--MacNair's own Indians. So quietly had the incident passed +that not one of them realized its importance. + +With them MacNair was _God_. He was the _law_. He had taught them to +work, so that even in the lean years they and their wives and their +babies ate twice each day. He had said that they should continue to +eat twice each day, and therefore his departure was a matter of no +moment. They knew only that he had gone southward with the man of the +soldier-police. This was doubtless as he had commanded. They could +conceive of MacNair only as commanding. Therefore the +soldier-policeman had obeyed and accompanied him to the southward. + +With no such complacency, however, was the arrest of MacNair regarded +by the henchmen of Lapierre. To them MacNair was not God, nor was he +the law. For these men knew well the long arm of the Mounted and what +lay at the end of the trail. Lean forms sped through the woods, and +the word passed from lip to lip in far places. It was whispered upon +the Slave, the Mackenzie, and the Athabasca, and it was told in the +provinces before MacNair and Ripley reached Fort Chippewayan. Along +the river, men talked excitedly, and impatiently awaited word from +Lapierre, while their eyes snapped with greed and their thoughts flew +to the gold in the sands of the barren grounds. + +In the Bastile du Mort, a hundred miles to the eastward, Lapierre heard +the news from the lips of a breathless runner, but a scant ten hours +after Corporal Ripley and MacNair stepped from the door of the cottage. +And within the hour the quarter-breed was upon the trail, travelling +light, in company with LeFroy, who, fearing swift vengeance, had also +sought safety in the stronghold of the outlaws. + + +Chloe Elliston stood in the doorway and watched the broad form of Bob +MacNair swing across the clearing in company with Corporal Ripley. As +the men disappeared in the timber, a fierce joy of victory surged +through her veins. She had bared the mailed fist! Had wrested a +people from the hand of their oppressor! The Snare Lake Indians were +henceforth to be _her_ Indians! She had ridded the North of MacNair! +Every fibre of her sang with the exultation of it as she turned into +the room and encountered the fishlike stare of Big Lena. + +The woman leaned, ponderous and silent, against the jamb of the door +giving into the kitchen. Her huge arms were folded tightly across her +breast, and, for some inexplicable reason, Chloe found the stare +disconcerting. The enthusiasm of her victory damped perceptibly. For +if the fish-eyed stare held nothing of reproach, it certainly held +nothing of approbation. Almost the girl read a condescending pity in +the stare of the china-blue eyes. The thought stung, and she faced the +other wrathfully. + +"Well, for Heaven's sake say something! Don't stand there and stare +like a--a billikin! Can't you talk?" + +"Yah, Ay tank Ay kin; but Ay von't--not yat." + +"What do you mean?" cried the exasperated girl, as she flung herself +into a chair. But without deigning to answer, Big Lena turned heavily +into the kitchen, and closed the door with a bang that impoverished +invective--for volumes may be spoken--in the banging of a door. The +moment was inauspicious for the entrance of Harriet Penny. At best, +Chloe merely endured the little spinster, with her whining, hysterical +outbursts, and abject, unreasoning fear of God, man, the devil, and +everything else. "Oh, my dear, I am so glad!" piped the little woman, +rushing to the girl's side: "we need never fear him again, need we?" + +"Nobody ever did fear him but you," retorted Chloe. + +"But, Mr. Lapierre said----" + +The girl arose with a gesture of impatience, and Miss Penny returned to +MacNair. "He is so big, and coarse, and horrible! I am sure even his +looks are enough to frighten a person to death." + +Chloe sniffed. "I think he is handsome, and he is big and strong. I +like big people." + +"But, my dear!" cried the horrified Miss Penny. "He--he kills Indians!" + +"So do I!" snapped the girl, and stamped angrily into her own room, +where she threw herself upon the bed and gave way to bitter +reflections. She hated everyone. She hated MacNair, and Big Lena, and +Harriet Penny, and the officer of the Mounted. She hated Lapierre and +the Indians, too. And then, realizing the folly of her blind hatred, +she hated herself for hating. With an effort she regained her poise. + +"MacNair is out of the way; and that's the main thing," she murmured. +She remembered his last words: "Beware of Pierre Lapierre," and her +eyes sought the man's hastily scribbled note that lay upon the table +where he had left it. She reread the note, and crumpling it in her +hand threw it to the floor. "He always manages to be some place else +when anything happens!" she exclaimed. "Oh, why couldn't it have been +the other way around? Why couldn't MacNair have been the one to have +the interest of the Indians at heart? And why couldn't Lapierre have +been the one to browbeat and bully them?" + +She paced angrily up and down the room, and kicked viciously at the +little ball of paper that was Lapierre's note. "He couldn't browbeat +anything!" she exclaimed. "He's--he's--sometimes, I think, he's almost +_sneaking_, with his bland, courtly manners, and his suave tongue. Oh, +how I could hate that man! And how I--" she stopped suddenly, and with +clenched fists fixed her gaze upon the portrait of Tiger Elliston, and +as she looked the thin features that returned her stare seemed to +resolve into the rugged outlines of the face of Bob MacNair. + +"He's big and strong, and he's not afraid," she murmured, and started +nervously at the knock with which Big Lena announced supper. + +When Chloe appeared at the table five minutes later she was quite her +usual self. She even laughed at Harriet Penny's horrified narrative of +the fact that she had discovered several Indians in the act of affixing +runners to the collapsible bathtubs in anticipation of the coming snow. + +Chloe spent an almost sleepless night, and it was with a feeling of +distinct relief that she arose to find Lapierre upon the veranda. She +noted a certain intense eagerness in the quarter-breed's voice as he +greeted her. + +"Ah, Miss Elliston!" he cried, seizing both her hands. "It seems that +during my brief absence you have accomplished wonders! May I ask how +you managed to bring about the downfall of the brute of the North, and +at the same time win his Indians to your school?" + +Under the enthusiasm of his words the girl's heart once more quickened +with the sense of victory. She withdrew her hands from his clasp and +gave a brief account of all that had happened since their parting on +Snare Lake. + +"Wonderful," breathed Lapierre at the conclusion of the recital. "And +you are sure he was duly charged with the murder of the two Indians?" + +Chloe nodded. "Yes, indeed I am sure!" she exclaimed. "The officer, +Corporal Ripley, tried to get me to put off this charge until his other +trial came up at the spring assizes. He said MacNair could give bail +and secure his liberty on the liquor charges, and thus return to the +North--and to his Indians." + +Lapierre nodded eagerly. "Ah, did I not tell you, Miss Elliston, that +the men of the Mounted are with him heart and soul? He owns them! You +have done well not to withdraw the charge of murder." + +"I offered to furnish him with an escort of Indians, but he refused +them. I don't see how in the world he can expect to take MacNair to +jail. He's a mere boy." + +Lapierre laughed. "He'll take him to jail all right, you may rest +assured as to that. He will not dare to allow him to escape, nor will +MacNair try to escape. We have nothing to fear now until the trial. +It is extremely doubtful if we can make the murder charge stick, but it +will serve to hold him during the winter, and I have no doubt when his +case comes up in the spring we will be able to produce evidence that +will insure conviction on the whiskey charges, which will mean at least +a year or two in jail and the exaction of a heavy fine. + +"In the meantime you will have succeeded in educating the Indians to a +realization of the fact that they owe allegiance to no man. MacNair's +power is broken. He will be discredited by the authorities, and hated +by his own Indians--a veritable pariah of the wilderness. And now, +Miss Elliston, I must hasten at once to the rivers. My interests there +have long been neglected. I shall return as soon as possible, but my +absence will necessarily be prolonged, for beside my own trading +affairs and the getting out of the timber for new scows, I hope to +procure such additional evidence as will insure the conviction of +MacNair. LeFroy will remain with you here." + +"Did you catch the whiskey runners?" Chloe asked. + +Lapierre shook his head. "No," he answered, "they succeeded in eluding +us among the islands at the eastern end of the lake. We were about to +push our search to a conclusion when news reached us of MacNair's +arrest, and we returned with all speed to the Yellow Knife." + +Somehow, the man's words sounded unconvincing--the glib reply was too +ready--too like the studied answer to an anticipated question. She +regarded him searchingly, but the simple directness of his gaze caused +her own eyes to falter, and she turned into the house with a deep +breath that was very like a sigh. + +The sense of elation and self-confidence inspired by Lapierre's first +words ebbed as it had ebbed before the unspoken rebuke of Big Lena, +leaving her strangely depressed. With the joy of accomplishment dead +within her, she drove herself to her work without enthusiasm. In all +the world, nothing seemed worth while. She was unsure--unsure of +Lapierre; unsure of herself; unsure of Big Lena--and, worst of all, +unbelievable and preposterous as it seemed in the light of what she had +witnessed with her own eyes, unsure of MacNair--of his villainy! + +Before noon the first snow of the season started in a fall of light, +feathery flakes, which gradually resolved themselves into fine, hard +particles that were hurled and buffeted about by the blasts of a fitful +wind. + +For three days the blizzard raged--days in which Lapierre contrived to +spend much time in Chloe's company, and during which the girl set about +deliberately to study the quarter-breed, in the hope of placing +definitely the defect in his make-up, the tangible reason for the +growing sense of distrust with which she was coming to regard him. +But, try as she would, she could find no cause, no justification, for +the uncomfortable and indefinable _something_ that was gradually +developing into an actual doubt of his sincerity. She knew that the +man had himself well in hand, for never by word or look did he express +any open avowal of love, although a dozen times a day he managed subtly +to show that his love had in no wise abated. + +On the morning of the fourth day, with forest and lake and river buried +beneath three feet of snow, Lapierre took the trail for the southward. +Before leaving, he sought out LeFroy in the storehouse. + +"We have things our own way, but we must lie low for a while, at least. +MacNair is not licked yet--by a damn' sight! He knows we furnished the +booze to his Indians, and he will yell his head off to the Mounted, and +we will have them dropping in on us all the winter. In the meantime +leave the liquor where it is. Don't bring a gallon of it into this +clearing. It will keep, and we can't take chances with the Mounted. +There will be enough in it for us, with what we can knock down here, +and what the boys can take out of MacNair's diggings. They know the +gold is there; most of them were in on the stampede when MacNair drove +them back a few years ago. And when they find out that MacNair is in +jail, there will be another stampede. And we will clean up big all +around." + +LeFroy, a man of few words, nodded sombrely, and Lapierre, who was +impatient to be off to the rivers, failed to note that the nod was far +more sombre than usual--failed, also, to note the pair of china-blue, +fishlike eyes that stared impassively at him from behind the goods +piled high upon the huge counter. + +Once upon the trail, Lapierre lost no time. As passed the word upon +the Mackenzie, where the men who had heard of the arrest of MacNair +waited in a frenzy of impatience for the signal that would send them +flying over the snow to Snare Lake. Day and night the man travelled; +from the Mackenzie southward the length of Slave and up the Athabasca. +And in his wake men, whose eyes fairly bulged with the greed of gold, +jammed their outfits into packs and headed into the North. + +At Athabasca Landing he sent a crew into the timber, and hastened on to +Edmonton where he purchased a railway ticket for a point that had +nothing whatever to do with his destination. That same night he +boarded an east-bound train, and in an early hour of the morning, when +the engine paused for water beside a tank that was the most conspicuous +building of a little flat town in the heart of a peaceful farming +community, he stepped unnoticed from the day coach and proceeded at +once to the low, wooden hotel, where he was cautiously admitted through +a rear door by the landlord himself, who was, incidentally, Lapierre's +shrewdest and most effective whiskey runner. + +It was this Tostoff: Russian by birth, and crook by nature, whose +business it was to disguise the contraband whiskey into +innocent-looking freight pieces. And, it was Tostoff who selected the +men and stood responsible for the contraband's safe conduct over the +first stage of its journey to the North. + +Tostoff objected strenuously to the running of a consignment in winter, +but Lapierre persisted, covering the ground step by step while the +other listened with a scowl. + +"It's this way, Tostoff: For years MacNair has been our chief +stumbling-block. God knows we have trouble enough running the stuff +past the Dominion police and the Mounted. But the danger from the +authorities is small in comparison with the danger from MacNair." +Tostoff growled an assent. "And now," continued Lapierre, "for the +first time we have him where we want him." + +The Russian looked sceptical. "We got MacNair where we want him if +he's dead," he grunted. "Who killed him?" + +Lapierre made a gesture of impatience. "He is not dead. He's locked +up in the Fort Saskatchewan jail." + +For the first time Tostoff showed real interest. "What's against him?" +he asked eagerly. + +"Murder, for one thing," answered Lapierre. "That will hold him +without bail until the spring assizes. He will probably get out of +that, though. But they are holding him also on four or five liquor +charges." + +"Liquor charges!" cried Tostoff, with an angry snort. "O-ho! so that's +his game? That's why he's been bucking us--because he's got a line of +his own!" + +Lapierre laughed. "Not so fast, Tostoff, not so fast. It is a +frame-up. That is, the charges are not, but the evidence is. I +attended to that myself. I think we have enough on him to keep him out +of the cold for a couple of winters to come. But you can't tell. And +while we have him we will put the screws to him for all there is in it. +It is the chance of a lifetime. What we want now is evidence--and more +evidence. + +"Here is the scheme: You fix up a consignment, five or ten gallons, the +usual way, and instead of shooting it in by the Athabasca, cut into the +old trail on the Beaver and take it across the Methye portage to a +_cache_ on the Clearwater. Brown's old cabin will about fill the bill. +We ought to be able to _cache_ the stuff by Christmas. + +"In the meantime, I will slip up the river and tip it off to the +Mounted at Fort McMurray that I got it straight from down below that +MacNair is going to run in a batch over the Methye trail, and that it +is to be _cached_ on the bank of the Clearwater on New Year's Day. +That will give your packers a week to make their getaway. And on New +Year's Day the Mounted will find the stuff in the _cache_. There will +be nobody to arrest, but they will have the evidence that will clinch +the case against MacNair. And with MacNair behind the bars we will +have things our own way north of sixty." + +Tostoff shook his head dubiously. + +"Bad business, Lapierre," he warned. "Winter trailing is bad business. +The snow tells tales. We haven't been caught yet. Why? Not because +we've been lucky, but because we've been careful. Water leaves no +trail. We've always run our stuff in in the summer. You say you've +got the goods on MacNair. I say, let well enough alone. The Mounted +ain't fools--they can read the sign in the snow." + +Lapierre arose with a curse. "You white-livered clod!" he cried. "Who +is running this scheme? You or I? Who delivers the whiskey to the +Indians? And who pays you your money? I do the thinking for this +outfit. I didn't come down here to _ask_ you to run this consignment. +I came here to _tell_ you to do it. This thing of playing safe is all +right. I never told you to run a batch in the winter before, but this +time you have got to take the chance." + +Lapierre leaned closer and fixed the heavy-faced Russian with his +gleaming black eyes. He spoke slowly so that the words fell distinctly +from his lips. "You _cache_ that liquor on the Clearwater on Christmas +Day. If you fail--well, you will join the others that have been +dismissed from my service--see?" + +Tostoff's only reply was a ponderous but expressive shrug, and without +a word Lapierre turned and stepped out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +WHAT HAPPENED AT BROWN'S + +It was the middle of December. Storm after storm had left the North +cold and silent beneath its white covering of snow. A dog-team swung +across the surface of the ice-locked Athabasca, and took the steep +slope at Fort McMurray on a long slant. + +Leaving the dogs in care of the musher, Pierre Lapierre loosened the +thongs of his rackets, and, pushing open the door, stamped noisily into +the detachment quarters of the Mounted and advanced to the stove where +two men were mending dog-harness. The men looked up. + +"Speaking of the devil," grinned Constable Craig, with a glance toward +Corporal Ripley, who greeted the newcomer with a curt nod. "Well, +Lapierre, where'd you come from?" + +Lapierre jerked his thumb toward the southward. "Up river," he +answered. "Getting out timber for my scows." Removing his cap and +mittens, the quarter-breed loosened his heavy moose-hide _parka_, beat +the clinging snow from the coarse hair, and drew a chair to the stove. + +"Come through from the Landing on the river?" asked Ripley, as he +filled a short black pipe with the tobacco he shaved from a plug. +"How's the trail?" + +"Good and hard, except for the slush at the Boiler and another stretch +just below the Cascade." Lapierre rolled a cigarette. "Hear you +caught MacNair with the goods at last," he ventured. + +Ripley nodded. + +"Looks like it," he admitted. "But what do you mean, 'at last'?" + +The quarter-breed laughed lightly and blew a cloud of cigarette-smoke +ceilingward. "I mean he has had things pretty much his own way the +last six or eight years." + +"Meanin' he's been runnin' whiskey all that time?" asked Craig. + +Lapierre nodded. "He has run booze enough into the North to float a +canoe from here to Port Chippewayan." + +It was Ripley's turn to laugh. "If you are so all-fired wise, why +haven't you made a complaint?" he asked. "Seems like I never heard you +and MacNair were such good friends," + +Lapierre shrugged. "I know a whole lot of men who have got their full +growth because they minded their own business," he answered. "I am not +in the Mounted. That's what you are paid for." + +Ripley flushed. "We'll earn our pay on this job all right. We've got +the goods on him this time. And, by the way, Lapierre, if you've got +anything in the way of evidence, we'll be wanting it at the trial. +Better show up in May, and save somebody goin' after you. If you run +onto any Indians that know anything, bring them along." + +"I will be there," smiled the other. "And since we are on the subject, +I can put you wise to a little deal that will net you some first-hand +evidence." The officers looked interested, and Lapierre continued: +"You know where Brown's old cabin is, just this side of the Methye +portage?" Ripley nodded. "Well, if you should happen to be at Brown's +on New Year's Day, just pull up the puncheons under the bunk and see +what you find." + +"What will we find?" asked Craig. + +Lapierre shrugged. "If I were you fellows I wouldn't overlook any +bets," he answered meaningly. + +"Why New Year's Day any more than Christmas, or any other day?" + +"Because," answered Lapierre, "on Christmas Day, or any other day +before New Year's Day, you won't find a damned thing but an empty +hole--that is why. Well, I must be going." He fastened the throat of +his _parka_ and drew on his cap and mittens. "So long! See you in the +spring. Shouldn't wonder if I will run onto some Indians, this winter, +who will tell what they know, now that MacNair is out of the way. I +know plenty of them that can talk, if they will." + +"So long!" answered Ripley as Lapierre left the room. "Much obliged +for the tip. Hope your hunch is good." + +"Play it and see," smiled Lapierre, and banged the door behind him. + + +Moving slowly northward upon a course that paralleled but studiously +avoided the old Methye trail, two men and a dog-team plodded heavily +through the snow at the close of a shortening day. Ostensibly, these +men were trappers; and, save for a single freight piece bound securely +upon the sled, their outfit varied in no particular from the outfits of +others who each winter fare into the North to engage in the taking of +fur. A close observer might have noted that the eyes of these men were +hard, and the frequent glances they cast over the back-trail were tense +with concern. + +The larger and stronger of the two, one Xavier, a sullen riverman of +evil countenance, paused at the top of a ridge and pointed across a +snow-swept beaver meadow. "T'night we camp on dees side. T'mor' we +cross to de mout' of de leetle creek, and two pipe beyon' we com' on de +cabin of Baptiste Chambre." + +The smaller man frowned. He, too, was a riverman, tough and wiry and +small. A man whose pinched, wizened body was a fitting cloister for +the warped soul that flashed malignantly from the beady, snakelike eyes. + +"_Non, non_!" he cried, and the venomous glance of the beady eyes was +not unmingled with fear. "We ke'p straight on pas' de beeg swamp. +Me--I'm no lak' dees wintaire trail." He pointed meaningly toward the +marks of the sled in the snow. + +The other laughed derisively. "_Sacre_! you leetle man, you Du Mont, +you 'fraid!" + +The other shrugged. "I'm 'fraid, _Oui_, I'm lak' I ke'p out de jail. +Tostoff, she say, you com' on de cabin of Brown de Chrees'mas Day. +_Bien_! Tostoff, she sma't mans. Lapierre, too. Tostoff, she 'fraid +for de wintaire trail, but she 'fraid for Lapierre mor'." + +Xavier interrupted him. "_Tra la_, Chrees'mas Day! Ain't we got de +easy trail? Two days befor' Chrees'mas we com' on de cabin of Brown. +Baptiste Chambre, she got de beeg jug rum. We mak' de grand dronk--one +day--one night. Den we hit de trail an com' on de Clearwater +Chrees'mas Day sam' lak' now. Tostoff, de Russ, she nevair know, +Lapierre, she nevair know. _Voila_!" + +Still the other objected. "Mebe so com' de storm. What den? We was'e +de time wit' Baptiste Chambre. We no mak' de Clearwater de Chrees'mas +Day--eh?" + +Xavier growled. "De Chrees'mas Day, damn! We no mak' de Chrees'mas +Day, we mak' som' odder day. Lapierre's damn' Injuns com' for de +wheeskey on Chrees'mas Day, she haf to wait. Me--I'm goin' to Baptiste +Chambre. I'm goin' for mak' de beeg dronk. If de snow com' and de dog +can't pull, I'm tak' dees leetle piece on ma back to the Clearwater." + +He reached down contemptuously and swung the piece containing ten +gallons of whiskey to his shoulder with one hand, then lowered it again +to the sled. + +"You know w'at I'm hear on de revair?" he asked, stepping closer to Du +Mont's side and lowering his voice. "I'm hearin' MacNair ees een de +jail. I'm hearin' Lapierre she pass de word to hit for Snare Lake, for +deeg de gol'." + +"Did Lapierre tell you to deeg de gol', or me? _Non_. He say, you go +to Tostoff." The snakelike eyes of the smaller man glittered at the +mention of gold. He clutched at the other's arm and cried out sharply: + +"MacNair arres'! _Sacre_! Com', we tak' de wheeskey to de Clearwater +an' go on to Snare Lake." + +This time it was Xavier's eyes that flashed a hint of fear. "_Non_!" +he answered quickly. "Lapierre, she----" + +The other silenced him, speaking rapidly. "Lapierre, she t'ink she +mak' us w'at you call, de double cross!" Xavier noted that the +malignant eyes flashed dangerously--"Lapierre, she sma't but me--I'm +sma't too. Dere's plent' men 'long de revair lak' to see de las' of +Pierre Lapierre. And plent' Injun in de Nort' dey lak' dat too. But +dey 'fraid to keel him. We do de work--Lapierre she tak' de money. +_Sacre_! Me--I'm 'fraid, too." He paused and shrugged significantly. +"But som' day I'm git de chance an' den leetle Du Mont she dismees +Lapierre from de serveece. Den me--I'm de bos'. _Bien_!" + +The other glanced at him in admiration. + +"Me, I'm goin' 'long to Snare Lake," he said, "but firs' we stop on +Baptiste Chambre an' mak' de beeg dronk, eh!" The smaller man nodded, +and the two sought their blankets and were soon sleeping silently +beside the blazing fire. + +A week later the two rivermen paused at the edge of a thicket that +commanded the approach to Brown's abandoned cabin on the Clearwater. +The threatened storm had broken while they were still at Baptiste +Chambre's cabin, and the two days' debauch had lengthened into five. + +Chambre's jug had been emptied and several times refilled from the +contents of Tostoff's concealed cask, which had been skilfully tapped +and as skilfully replenished as to weight by the addition of snow water. + +The effect of their protracted orgy was plainly visible in the +bloodshot eyes and heavy movements of both men. And it was more from +force of long habit than from any sense of alertness or premonition of +danger that they crouched in the thicket and watched the smoke curl +from the little iron stovepipe that protruded above the roof of the +cabin. + +"Dem Injun she wait," growled Xavier. "Com' on, me--I'm lak' for ketch +som' sleep." The two swung boldly into the open and, pausing only long +enough to remove their rackets, pushed open the door of the cabin. + +An instant later Du Mont, who was in the lead, leaped swiftly backward +and, crashing into the heavier and clumsier Xavier bowled him over into +the snow, where both wallowed helplessly, held down by Xavier's heavy +pack. + +It was but the work of a moment for the wiry Du Mont to free himself, +and when he leaped to his feet, cursing like a fiend, it was to look +squarely into the muzzle of Corporal Ripley's service revolver, while +Constable Craig loosened the pack straps and allowed Xavier to arise. + +"Caught with the goods, eh?" grinned Ripley, when the two prisoners +were seated side by side upon the pole bunk. + +The sullen-faced Xavier glowered in surly silence, but the malignant, +beady eyes of Du Mont regarded the officer keenly. "You patrol de +Clearwater now, eh?" + +Ripley laughed. "When there's anything doin' we do." + +"How you fin' dat out? Dem Injun she squeal? I'm lak' to know 'bout +dat." + +"Well, it wasn't exactly an Indian this time," answered Ripley; "that +is, it wasn't a regular Indian. Pierre Lapierre put us on to this +little deal." + +"_Pierre_--LAPIERRE!" + +The little wizened man fairly shrieked the name and, leaping to his +feet, bounded about the room like an animated rubber ball, while from +his lips poured a steady stream of vile epithets, mingled with every +curse and gem of profanity known to two languages. + +"That's goin' some," enthused Constable Craig, when the other finally +paused for breath. "An' come to think about it, I believe you're +right. I like to hear a man speak his mind, an' from your remarks it +seems like you're oncommon peeved with this here little deal. It ain't +nothin' to get so worked up over. You'll serve your time an' in a +couple of years or so they'll turn you loose again." + +At the mention of the prison term the burly Xavier moved uneasily upon +the bunk. He seemed about to speak, but was forestalled by the quicker +witted Du Mont. + +"Two years, eh!" asked the outraged Metis, addressing Ripley. "Mebe so +you mak' w'at you call de deal. Mebe so I'm tell you who's de boss. +Mebe so I'm name de man dat run de wheeskey into de Nort'. De man dat +plans de cattle raids on de bordair. De man dat keels mor' Injun dan +mos' men keels deer, eh! Wat den? Mebe so den you turn us loose, eh?" + +Ripley laughed. "You think I'm goin' to pay you to tell me the name of +the man we've already got locked up?" + +"You got MacNair lock up," Du Mont leered knowingly. "_Bien_! You +t'ink MacNair run de wheeskey. But MacNair, she ain't run no wheeskey. +You mak' de deal wit' me. Ba Gos'! I'm not jus' tell you de name, I'm +tell you so you fin' w'at you call de proof! I no fin' de proof--you +no turn me loose. _Voila_!" + +Corporal Ripley was a keen judge of men, and he knew that the +vindictive and outraged Metis was in just the right mood to tell all he +knew. Also Ripley believed that the man knew much. Therefore, he made +the deal. And it is a tribute to the Mounted that the crafty and +suspicious Metis accepted, without question, the word of the corporal +when he promised to do all in his power to secure their liberty in +return for the evidence that would convict "the man higher up." + +Corporal Ripley was a man of quick decision; with him to decide was to +act. Within an hour from the time Du Mont concluded his story the two +officers with their prisoners were headed for Fort Saskatchewan. Both +Du Mont and Xavier realized that their only hope for clemency lay in +their ability to aid the authorities in building up a clear case +against Lapierre, and during the ten days of snow-trail that ended at +Athabasca Landing each tried to outdo the other in explaining what he +knew of the workings of Lapierre's intricate system. + +At the Landing, Ripley reported to the superintendent commanding N +Division, who immediately sent for the prisoners and submitted them to +a cross-examination that lasted far into the night, and the following +morning the corporal escorted them to Fort Saskatchewan, where they +were to remain in jail to await the verification of their story. + +Division commanders are a law unto themselves, and much to his +surprise, two days later, Bob MacNair was released upon his own +recognizance. Whereupon, without a moment's delay, he bought the best +dog-team obtainable and headed into the North accompanied by Corporal +Ripley, who was armed with a warrant for the arrest of Pierre Lapierre. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE LOUCHOUX GIRL + +Winter laid a heavy hand upon the country of the Great Slave. Blizzard +after howling blizzard came out of the North until the buildings of +Chloe Elliston's school lay drifted to the eaves in the centre of the +snow-swept clearing. + +With the drifting snows and the bitter, intense cold that isolated the +little colony from the great world to the southward, came a sense of +peace and quietude that contrasted sharply with the turbulent, +surcharged atmosphere with which the girl had been surrounded from the +moment she had unwittingly become a factor in the machinations of the +warring masters of wolf-land. + +With MacNair safely behind the bars of a jail far to the southward, and +Lapierre somewhere upon the distant rivers, the Indians for the first +time relaxed from the strain of tense expectancy. Of her own original +Indians, those who had remained at the school by command of the crafty +Lapierre, there remained only LeFroy and a few of the older men who +were unfit to go on the trap-lines, together with the women and +children. + +MacNair's Indians, who had long since laid down their traps to pick up +the white man's tools, stayed at the school. And much to the girl's +surprise, under the direction of the refractory Sotenah, and Old Elk, +and Wee Johnnie Tamarack, not only performed with a will the necessary +work of the camp--the chopping and storing of firewood, the shovelling +of paths through the huge drifts, and the drawing of water from the +river--but took upon themselves numerous other labours of their own +initiative. + +An ice-house was built and filled upon the bank of the river. Trees +were felled, and the logs ranked upon miniature rollways, where all +through the short days the Indians busied themselves in the rude +whip-sawing of lumber. + +Their women and children daily attended the school and worked +faithfully under the untiring tutelage of Chloe and Harriet Penny, who +entered into the work with new enthusiasm engendered by the interest +and the aptness of the Snare Lake Indians--absent qualities among the +wives and children of Lapierre's trappers. + +LeFroy was kept busy in the storehouse, and with the passing of the +days Chloe noticed that he managed to spend more and more time in +company with Big Lena. At first she gave the matter no thought. But +when night after night she heard the voices of the two as they sat +about the kitchen-stove long after she had retired, she began to +consider the matter seriously. + +At first she dismissed it with a laugh. Of all people in the world, +she thought, these two, the heavy, unimaginative Swedish woman, and the +leathern-skinned, taciturn wood-rover, would be the last to listen to +the call of romance. + +Chloe was really fond of the huge, silent woman who had followed her +without question into the unknown wilderness of the Northland, even as +she had accompanied her without protest through the maze of the far +South Seas. With all her averseness to speech and her vacuous, fishy +stare, the girl had long since learned that Big Lena was both loyal and +efficient and shrewd. But, Big Lena as a wife! Chloe smiled broadly +at the thought. + +"Poor LeFroy," she pitied. "But it would be the best thing in the +world for him. 'The perpetuity of the red race will be attained only +through its amalgamation with the white,'" she quoted; the trite +banality of one of the numerous theorists she had studied before +starting into the North. + +Of LeFroy she knew little. He seemed a half-breed of more than average +intelligence, and as for the rest--she would leave that to Lena. On +the whole, she rather approved of the arrangement, not alone upon the +amalgamation theory, but because she entertained not the slightest +doubt as to who would rule the prospective family. She could depend +upon Big Lena's loyalty, and her marriage to one of their number would +therefore become a very important factor in the attitude of the Indians +towards the school. + +Gradually, the women of the Slave Lake Indians taking the cue from +their northern sisters, began to show an appreciation of the girl's +efforts in their behalf. An appreciation that manifested itself in +little tokens of friendship, exquisitely beaded moccasins, shyly +presented, and a pair of quill-embroidered leggings laid upon her desk +by a squaw who slipped hurriedly away. Thus the way was paved for a +closer intimacy which quickly grew into an eager willingness among the +Indians to help her in the mastering of their own language. + +As this intimacy grew, the barrier which is the chief stumbling-block +of missionaries and teachers who seek to carry enlightenment into the +lean lone land, gradually dissolved. The women with whom Chloe came in +contact ceased to be Indians _en masse_; they became +_people_--personalities--each with her own capability and propensity +for the working of good or harm. With this realization vanished the +last vestige of aloofness and reserve. And, thereafter, many of the +women broke bread by invitation at Chloe's own table. + +The one thing that remained incomprehensible to the girl was the +idolatrous regard in which MacNair was held by his own Indians. To +them he was a superman--the one great man among all white men. His +word was accepted without question. Upon leaving for the southward +MacNair had told the men to work, therefore they worked unceasingly. +Also he had told the women and the children to obey without question +the words of the white _kloochman_, and therefore they absorbed her +teaching with painstaking care. + +Time and again the girl tried to obtain the admission that MacNair was +in the habit of supplying his Indians with whiskey, and always she +received the same answer. "MacNair sells no whiskey. He hates +whiskey. And many times has he killed men for selling whiskey to his +people." + +At first these replies exasperated the girl beyond measure. She set +them down as stereotyped answers in which they had been carefully +coached. But as time went on and the women, whose word she had come to +hold in regard, remained unshaken in their statements, an uncomfortable +doubt assailed her--a doubt that, despite herself, she fostered. A +doubt that caused her to ponder long of nights as she lay in her little +room listening to the droning voices of LeFroy and Big Lena as they +talked by the stove in the kitchen. + +Strange fancies and pictures the girl built up as she lay, half waking, +half dreaming between her blankets. Pictures in which MacNair, +misjudged, hated, fighting against fearful odds, came clean through the +ruck and muck with which his enemies had endeavoured to smother him, +and proved himself the man he might have been; fancies and pictures +that dulled into a pain that was very like a heartache, as the vivid +picture--the real picture--which she herself had seen with her own eyes +that night on Snare Lake, arose always to her mind. + +The tang of the northern air bit into the girl's blood. She spent much +time in the open and became proficient and tireless in the use of +snowshoes and skis. Daily her excursions into the surrounding timber +grew longer, and she was never so happy as when swinging with strong, +wide strides on her fat thong-strung rackets, or sliding with the speed +of the wind down some steep slope of the river-bank, on her smoothly +polished skis. + +It was upon one of these solitary excursions, when her steps had +carried her many miles along the winding course of a small tributary of +the Yellow Knife, that the girl became so fascinated in her exploration +she failed utterly to note the passage of time until a sharp bend of +the little river brought her face to face with the low-hung winter sun, +which was just on the point of disappearing behind the shrub pines of a +long, low ridge. + +With a start she brought up short and glanced fearfully about her. +Darkness was very near, and she had travelled straight into the +wilderness almost since early dawn. Without a moment's delay she +turned and retraced her steps. But even as her hurrying feet carried +her over the back-trail she realized that night would overtake her +before she could hope to reach the larger river. + +The thought of a night spent alone in the timber at first terrified +her. She sought to increase her pace, but her muscles were tired, her +footsteps dragged, and the rackets clung to her feet like inexorable +weights which sought to drag her down, down into the soft whiteness of +the snow. + +Darkness gathered, and the back-trail dimmed. Twice she fell and +regained her feet with an effort. Suddenly rounding a sharp bend, she +crashed heavily among the dead branches of a fallen tree. When at +length she regained her feet, the last vestige of daylight had +vanished. Her own snowshoe tracks were indiscernible upon the white +snow. She was off the trail! + +Something warm and wet trickled along her cheek. She jerked off her +mittens and with fingers tingling in the cold, keen air, picked bits of +bark from the edges of the ragged wound where the end of a broken +branch had snagged the soft flesh of her face. The wound stung, and +she held a handful of snow against it until the pain dulled under the +numbing chill. + +Stories of the night-prowling wolf-pack, and the sinister, man-eating +_loup cervier_, crowded her brain. She must build a fire. She felt +through her pocket for the glass bottle of matches, only to find that +her fingers were too numb to remove the cork. She replaced the vial +and, drawing on her mittens, beat her hands together until the blood +tingled to her finger-tips. How she wished now that she had heeded the +advice of LeFroy, who had cautioned against venturing into the woods +without a light camp ax slung to her belt. + +Laboriously she set about gathering bark and light twigs which she +piled in the shelter of a cut-bank, and when at last a feeble flame +flickered weakly among the thin twigs she added larger branches which +she broke and twisted from the limbs of the dead trees. Her camp-fire +assumed a healthy proportion, and the flare of it upon the snow was +encouraging. + +At the end of an hour, Chloe removed her rackets and dropped wearily +onto the snow beside the fire-wood which she had piled conveniently +close to the blaze. Never in her life had she been so utterly weary, +but she realized that for her that night there could be no sleep. And +no sooner had the realization forced itself upon her than she fell +sound asleep with her head upon the pile of fire-wood. + +She awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, staring in bewilderment +at her fire--and beyond the fire where, only a few feet distant, a +hooded shape stood dimly outlined against the snow. Chloe's garments, +dampened by the exertion of the earlier hours, had chilled her through +while she slept, and as she stared wide-eyed at the apparition beyond +the fire, the figure drew closer and the chill of the dampened garments +seemed to clutch with icy fingers at her heart. She nerved herself for +a supreme effort and arose stiffly to her knees, and then suddenly the +figure resolved itself into the form of a girl--an Indian girl--but a +girl as different from the Indians of her school as day is different +from night. + +As the girl advanced she smiled, and Chloe noted that her teeth were +strong and even and white, and that dark eyes glowed softly from a face +as light almost as her own. + +"Do not 'fraid," said the girl in a low, rich voice. "I'm not hurt +you. I'm see you fire, I'm com' 'cross to fin'. Den, ver' queek you +com' 'wake, an' I'm see you de one I'm want." + +"The one you want!" cried Chloe, edging closer to the fire. "What do +you mean? Who are you? And why should you want me?" + +"Me--I'm Mary. I'm com' ver' far. I'm com' from de people of my +modder. De Louchoux on de lower Mackenzie. I'm com' to fin' de +school. I'm hear about dat school." + +"The lower Mackenzie!" cried Chloe in astonishment. "I should think +you have come very far." + +The girl nodded. "Ver' far," she repeated. "T'irty-two sleep I'm on +de trail." + +"Alone!" + +"Alone," she assented. "I'm com' for learn de ways of de white women." + +Chloe motioned the girl closer, and then, seized by a sudden chill, +shivered violently. The girl noticed the paroxysm, and, dropping to +her knees by Chloe's side, spoke hurriedly. + +"You col'," she said. "You got no blanket. You los'." + +Without waiting for a reply, she hurried to a light pack-sled which +stood nearby upon the snow. A moment later she returned with a heavy +pair of blankets which she spread at Chloe's side, and then, throwing +more wood upon the fire, began rapidly to remove the girl's clothing. +Within a very short space of time, Chloe found herself lying warm and +comfortable between the blankets, while her damp garments were drying +upon sticks thrust close to the blaze. She watched the Indian girl as +she moved swiftly and capably about her task, and when the last garment +was hung upon its stick she motioned the girl to her side. + +"Why did you come so far to my school?" she asked. "Surely you have +been to school. You speak English. You are not a full-blood Indian." + +The girl's eyes sought the shadows beyond the firelight, and, as her +lips framed a reply, Chloe marvelled at the weird beauty of her. + +"I go to school on de Mission, two years at Fort MacPherson. I learn +to spik de Englis'. My fadder, heem Englis', but I'm never see heem. +Many years ago he com' in de beeg boat dat com' for ketch de whale an' +got lock in de ice in de Bufort Sea. In de spring de boat go 'way, an' +my fadder go 'long, too. He tell my modder he com' back nex' winter. +Dat many years ago--nineteen years. Many boats com' every year, but my +fadder no com' back. My modder she t'ink he com' back som' day, an' +every fall my modder she tak' me 'way from Fort MacPherson and we go up +on de coast an' build de _igloo_. An' every day she set an' watch +while de ships com' in, but my fadder no com' back. My modder t'ink he +sure com' back, he fin' her waitin' when he com'. She say, mebe so he +ketch 'm many whale. Mebe so he get reech so we got plen' money to buy +de grub." + +The girl paused and her brows contracted thoughtfully. She threw a +fresh stick upon the fire and shook her head slowly. "I don' know," +she said softly, "mebe so he com' back--but heem been gone long tam'." + +"Where is your mother now?" asked Chloe, when the girl had finished. + +"She up on de coast in de little _igloo_. Many ships com' into Bufort +Sea las' fall. She say, sure dis winter my fadder com' back. She got +to wait for heem." + +Chloe cleared her throat sharply. "And you?" she asked, "why did you +come clear to the Yellow Knife? Why did you not go back to school at +the Mission?" + +A troubled expression crept into the eyes of the Louchoux girl, and she +seemed at a loss to explain. "Eet ees," she answered at length, "dat +my man, too, he not com' back lak' my fadder." + +"Your man!" cried Chloe in astonishment. "Do you mean you are married? +Why, you are nothing but a child!" + +The girl regarded her gravely. "Yes," she answered, "I'm marry. Two +years ago I git marry, up on de Anderson Reever. My man, heem +free-trader, an' all summer we got plent' to eat. In de fall he tak' +me back to de _igloo_. He say, he mus' got to go to de land of de +white man to buy supplies. I lak' to go, too, to de land of de white +man, but he say no, you Injun, you stay in de Nort', an' by-m-by I com' +back again. Den he go up de reever, an' all winter I stay in de igloo +wit' my modder an' look out over de ice-pack at de boats in de Bufort +Sea. In de spreeng my man he don' com' back, my fadder he don' com' +back neider. We not have got mooch grub to eat dat winter, and den we +go to Fort MacPherson. I go back to de school, and I'm tell de pries' +my man he no com' back. De pries' he ver' angry. He say, I'm not got +marry, but de pries' he ees a man--he don' un'stan'. + +"All summer I'm stay on de Mackenzie, an' I'm watch de canoes an' I'm +wait for my man to com' back, but he don' com' back. An' in de fall my +modder she go Nort' again to watch de ships in de Bufort Sea. She say, +com' 'long, but I don' go, so she go 'lone and I'm stay on de +Mackenzie. I'm stay 'til de reever freeze, an' no more canoe can com'. +Den I'm wait for de snow. Mebe so my man com' wit' de dog-team. Den +I'm hear 'bout de school de white woman build on de Yellow Knife. +Always I'm hear 'bout de white women, but I'm never seen none--only de +white men. My man, he mos' white. + +"Den I'm say, mebe so my man lak' de white women more dan de Injun. He +not com' back dis winter, an' I'm go on de school and learn de ways of +de white women, an' in de spreeng when my man com' back he lak' me +good, an' nex' winter mebe he tak' me 'long to de land of de white +women. But, eet's a long trail to de Yellow Knife, an' I'm got no +money to buy de grub an' de outfit. I'm go once mor' to de pries' an' +I'm tell heem 'bout dat school. An' I'm say, mebe so I'm learn de ways +of de white women, my man tak' me 'long nex' tam'. + +"De pries' he t'ink 'bout dat a long tam'. Den he go over to de Hudson +Bay Pos' an' talk to McTavish, de factor, an' by-m-by he com' back and +tak' me over to de pos' store an' give me de outfit so I'm com' to de +school on de Yellow Knife. Plent' grub an' warm blankets dey give me. +An' t'irty-two sleep I'm travel de snow-trail. Las' night I'm mak' my +camp in de scrub cross de reever. I'm go 'sleep, an' by-m-by I'm wake +up an' see you fire an' I'm com' 'long to fin' out who camp here." + +As she listened, Chloe's hand stole from beneath the blankets and +closed softly about the fingers of the Louchoux girl. "And so you have +come to live with me?" she whispered softly. + +The girl's face lighted up. "You let me com'?" she asked eagerly, "an' +you teach me de ways of de white women, so I ain't jus' be Injun girl? +So when my man com' back, he lak' me an' I got plent' to eat in de +winter?" + +"Yes, dear," answered Chloe, "you shall come to live with me always." + +Followed then a long silence which was broken at last by the Indian +girl. + +"You don' say lak' de pries'," she asked, "you not marry, you bad?" + +"No! No! No! You poor child!" cried Chloe, "of course you are not +bad! You are going to live with me. You will learn many things." + +"An' som' tam', we fin' my man?" she asked eagerly. + +Chloe's voice sounded suddenly harsh. "Yes, indeed, we will find him!" +she cried. "We will find him and bring him back--" she stopped +suddenly. "We will speak of that later. And now that my clothes are +dry you can help me put them on, and if you have any grub left in your +pack let's eat. I'm starving." + +While Chloe finished dressing, the Louchoux girl boiled a pot of tea +and fried some bacon, and an hour later the two girls were fast asleep +in each other's arms, beneath the warm folds of the big Hudson Bay +blankets. + +The following morning they had proceeded but a short distance upon the +back-trail when they were met by a searching party from the school. +The return was made without incident, and Chloe, who had taken a great +fancy to the Louchoux girl, immediately established her as a member of +her own household. + +During the days which followed, the girl plunged with an intense +eagerness into the task of learning the ways of the white women. +Nothing was too trivial or unimportant to escape her attention. She +learned to copy with almost pathetic exactness each of Chloe's little +acts and mannerisms, even to the arranging of her hair. With the other +two inmates of the cottage the girl became hardly less a favourite than +with Chloe herself. + +Her progress in learning to speak English, her skill with the needle +and the rapidity with which she learned to make her own clothing +delighted Harriet Penny. While Big Lena never tired of instructing her +in the mysteries of the culinary department. In return the girl looked +upon the three women with an adoration that bordered upon idolatry. +She would sit by the hour listening to Chloe's accounts of the wondrous +cities of the white men and of the doings of the white men's women. + +Chloe never mentioned the girl's secret to either Harriet Penny or Big +Lena, and carefully avoided any allusion to the subject to the girl +herself. Nothing could be done, she reasoned, until the ice went out +of the rivers, and in the meantime she would do all in her power to +instil into the girl's mind an understanding of the white women's +ethics, so that when the time came she would be able to choose +intelligently for herself whether she would return to her free-trader +lover or prosecute him for his treachery. + +Chloe knew that the girl had done no wrong, and in her heart she hoped +that she could be brought to a realization of the true character of the +man and repudiate him. If not--if she really loved him, and was +determined to remain his wife--Chloe made up her mind to insist upon a +ceremony which should meet the sanction of Church and State. + +Christmas and New Year's passed, and Lapierre did not return to the +school. Chloe was not surprised at this, for he had told her that his +absence would be prolonged; and in her heart of hearts she was really +glad, for the veiled suspicion of the man's sincerity had grown into an +actual distrust of him--a distrust that would have been increased a +thousand-fold could she have known that the quarter-breed was even then +upon Snare Lake at the head of a gang of outlaws who were thawing out +MacNair's gravel and shovelling it into dumps for an early clean-up; +instead of looking after his "neglected interests" upon the rivers. + +But she did not know that, nor did she know of his midnight visit to +Tostoff, nor of what happened at Brown's cabin, nor of the release of +MacNair. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ON THE TRAIL OF PIERRE LAPIERRE + +Bob MacNair drove a terrific trail. He was known throughout the +Northland as a hard man to follow at any time. His huge muscles were +tireless at the paddle, and upon the rackets his long swinging stride +ate up the miles of the snow-trails. And when Bob MacNair was an a +hurry the man who undertook to keep up with him had his work cut out. + +When he headed northward after his release from the Fort Saskatchewan +Jail, MacNair was in very much of a hurry. From daylight until far +into the dark he urged his malamutes to their utmost. And Corporal +Ripley, who was by no means a _chechako_, found himself taxed to the +limit of his endurance, although never by word or sign did he indicate +that the pace was other than of his own choosing. + +Fort McMurray, a ten- to fourteen-day trip under good conditions, was +reached in seven days. Fort Chippewayan in three days more, and Fort +Resolution a week later--seventeen days from Athabasca Landing to Fort +Resolution--a record trip for a dog-train! + +MacNair was known as a man of few words, but Ripley wondered at the +ominous silence with which his every attempt at conversation was met. +During the whole seventeen days of the snow-trail, MacNair scarcely +addressed a word to him--seemed almost oblivious to his presence. + +Upon the last day, with the log buildings of Fort Resolution in sight, +MacNair suddenly halted the dogs and faced Corporal Ripley. + +"Well, what's your program?" he asked shortly. + +"My program," returned the other, "is to arrest Pierre Lapierre," + +"How are you going to do it?" + +"I've got to locate him first, the details will work out later. I've +been counting a lot on your help and judgment in the matter." + +"Don't do it!" snapped MacNair. + +The other gazed at him in astonishment. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I'm not going to help you arrest Lapierre. He's mine! I +have sworn to get him, and, by God, I _will_ get him! From now on we +are working against each other." + +Ripley flushed, and his eyes narrowed. "You mean," he exclaimed, "that +you defy the Mounted! That you refuse to help when you're called on?" + +MacNair laughed. "You might put it that way, I suppose, but it don't +sound well. You know me, Ripley. You know when my word has +passed--when I've once started a thing--I'll see it through to the +limit. I've sworn to get Lapierre. And I tell you, he's mine! Unless +you get him first. You're a good man, Ripley, and you may do it--but +if you do, when you get back with him, you'll know you've been +somewhere." + +The lines of Ripley's face softened; as a sporting proposition the +situation appealed to him. He thrust out his hand. "It's a go, +MacNair," he said, "and let the best man win!" + +MacNair wrung the officer's hand in a mighty grip, and then just as he +was on the point of starting his dogs, paused and gazed thoughtfully +after the other who was making his way toward the little buildings of +Fort Resolution. + +"Oh, Ripley," he called. The officer turned and retraced his steps. +"You've heard of Lapierre's fort to the eastward. Have you ever been +there?" + +Ripley shook his head. "No, but I've heard he has one somewhere around +the east end of the lake." + +MacNair laughed. "Yes, and if you hunted the east end of the lake for +it you could hunt a year without finding it. If you really want to +know where it is, come along, I'll show you. I happen to be going +there." + +"What's the idea?" asked the officer, regarding MacNair quizzically. + +"The idea is just this. Lapierre's no fool. He's got as good a chance +of getting me as I have of getting him. And if anything happens to me +you fellows will lose a lot of valuable time before you can locate that +fort. I don't know myself exactly why I'm taking you there, except +that--well, if anything should happen to me, Lapierre would--you see, +he might--that is---- Damn it!" he broke out wrathfully. "Can't you +see he'll have things his own way with _her_?" + +Ripley grinned broadly. "Oh! So that's it, eh? Well, a fellow ought +to look out for his friends. She seemed right anxious to have _you_ +put where nothing would hurt you." + +"Shut up!" growled MacNair shortly. "And before we start there's one +little condition you must agree to. If we find Lapierre at the fort, +in return for my showing you the place, you've got to promise to make +no attempt to arrest him without first returning to Fort Resolution. +If I can't get him in the meantime I ought to lose." + +"You're on," grinned Ripley, "I promise. But man, if he's there he +won't be alone! What chance will you have single-handed against a +whole gang of outlaws?" + +MacNair smiled grimly. "That's my lookout. Remember, your word has +passed, and when we locate Lapierre, you head back for Fort Resolution." + +The other nodded regretfully, and when MacNair turned away from the +fort and headed eastward along the south shore of the lake, the officer +fell silently in behind the dogs. + +They camped late in a thicket on the shore of South Bay, and at +daylight headed straight across the vast snow-level, that stretched for +sixty miles in an unbroken surface of white. That night they camped on +the ice, and toward noon of the following day drew into the scrub +timber directly north of the extremity of Peththenneh Island. + +Long after dark they made a fireless camp directly opposite the +stronghold of the outlaws on the shore of Lac du Mort. Circling the +lake next morning, they reconnoitred the black spruce swamp, and +working their way, inch by inch, passed cautiously between the dense +evergreens in the direction of the high promontory upon which Lapierre +had built his "Bastile du Mort." + +Silence enveloped the swamp. An intense, all-pervading stillness, +accentuated by the low-hung snow-weighted branches through which the +men moved like dark phantoms in the grey half-light of the dawn. They +moved not with the stealthy, gliding movement of the Indian, but with +the slow caution of trained woodsmen, pausing every few moments to +scrutinize their surroundings, and to strain their ears for a sound +that would tell them that other lurking forms glided among the silent +aisles and vistas of the snow-shrouded swamp. But no sounds came to +them through the motionless air, and after an hour of stealthy advance, +they drew into the shelter of a huge spruce and peered through the +interstices of its snow-laden branches toward the log stockade that +Lapierre had thrown across the neck of his lofty peninsula. + +Silent and grey and deserted loomed the barrier so cunningly devised as +to be almost indistinguishable at a distance of fifty yards. Snow lay +upon its top, and vertical ridges of snow clung to the crevices of the +upstanding palings. + +A half-hour passed, while the two men remained motionless, and then, +satisfied that the fort was unoccupied, they stepped cautiously from +the shelter of their tree. The next instant, loud and clear, +shattering the intense silence with one sharp explosion of sound, rang +a shot. And Corporal Ripley, who was following close at the heels of +MacNair, staggered, clawed wildly for the butt of his service revolver +which protruded from its holster, and, with an imprecation on his lips +that ended in an unintelligible snarl, crashed headlong into the snow. + +MacNair whirled as if upon a pivot, and with hardly a glance at the +prostrate form, dashed over the back-trail with the curious lumbering +strides of the man who would hurry on rackets. He had jerked off his +heavy mitten at the sound of the shot, and his bared hand clutched +firmly the butt of a blue-black automatic. A spruce-branch, suddenly +relieved of its snow, sprang upward with a swish, thirty yards away. +MacNair fired three times in rapid succession. + +There was no answering shot, and he leaped forward, charging directly +toward the tree that concealed the hidden foe before the man could +reload; for by the roar of its discharge, MacNair knew that the weapon +was an old Hudson Bay muzzle-loading smoothbore--a primitive weapon of +the old North, but in the hands of an Indian, a weapon of terrible +execution at short range, where a roughly moulded bullet or a slug +rudely hammered from the solder melted from old tin cans tears its way +through the flesh, driven by three fingers of black powder. + +Near the tree MacNair found the gun where its owner had hurled it into +the snow--found also the tracks of a pair of snowshoes, which headed +into the heart of the black spruce swamp. The tracks showed at a +glance that the lurking assassin was an Indian, that he was travelling +light, and that the chance of running him down was extremely remote. +Whereupon MacNair returned his automatic to its holster and bethought +himself of Ripley, who was lying back by the stockade with his face +buried in the snow. + +Swiftly he retraced his steps, and, kneeling beside the wounded man, +raised him from the snow. Blood oozed from the corners of the +officer's lips, and, mingling with the snow, formed a red slush which +clung to the boyish cheek. With his knife MacNair cut through the +clothing and disclosed an ugly hole below the right shoulder-blade. He +bound up the wound, plugging the hole with suet chewed from a lump +which he carried in his pocket. Leaving Ripley upon his face to +prevent strangulation from the blood in his throat, he hastened to the +camp on the shore of the lake, harnessed the dogs, and returned to the +prostrate man; it was the work of a few moments to bind him securely +upon the sled. Skilfully MacNair guided his dogs through the maze of +the black spruce swamp, and, throwing caution to the winds, crossed the +lake, struck into the timber, and headed straight for Chloe Elliston's +school. + + +In the living-room of the little cottage on the Yellow Knife, Harriet +Penny and Mary, the Louchoux girl, sat sewing, while Chloe Elliston, +with chair pulled close to the table, read by the light of an oil-lamp +from a year-old magazine. If the Louchoux girl failed to follow the +intricacies of the plot, an observer would scarcely have known it. Nor +would he have guessed that less than two short months before this girl +had been a skin-clad native of the North who had mushed for thirty days +unattended through the heart of the barren grounds. So marvellously +had the girl improved and so desirously had she applied her needle, +that save for the beaded moccasins upon her feet, her clothing differed +in no essential detail from that of Chloe Elliston or of Harriet Penny. + +Chloe paused in her reading, and the three occupants of the little room +stared inquiringly into each other's faces as a rough-voiced "Whoa!" +sounded from beyond the door. A moment of silence followed the +command, and then came the sounds of a heavy footfall upon the veranda. +The Louchoux girl sprang to the door, and as she wrenched it open the +yellow lamplight threw into bold relief the huge figure of a man, who, +bearing a blanket-wrapped form in his arms, staggered into the room, +and, without a word deposited his burden upon the floor. The man +looked up, and Chloe Elliston started back with an exclamation of angry +amazement. The man was Bob MacNair! And Chloe noticed that the +Louchoux girl, after one terrified glance into his face, fled +incontinently to the kitchen. + +"You! You!" cried Chloe, groping for words. + +The man interrupted her gruffly. "This is no time to talk. Corporal +Ripley has been shot. For three days I have burned up the snow getting +him here. He's hard hit, but the bleeding has stopped, and a good bed +and good nursing will pull him through." + +As he snapped out the words, MacNair busied himself in removing the +wounded man's blankets and outer garments. Chloe gave some hurried +orders to Big Lena, and followed MacNair into her own room, where he +laid the wounded man upon her bed--the same he, himself, had once +occupied while recovering from the effect of Lapierre's bullet. Then +he straightened and faced Chloe, who stood regarding him with flashing +eyes. + +"So you did get away from him after all?" she said, "and when he +followed you, you shot him! Just a boy--and you shot him in the back!" +The voice trembled with the scorn of her words. MacNair pushed roughly +past her. + +"Don't be a damn fool!" he growled, and called over his shoulder: +"Better rest him up for three or four days, and send him down to Fort +Resolution. He'll stand the trip all right by that time, and the +doctor may want to poke around for that bullet." Suddenly he whirled +and faced her. "Where is Lapierre?" The words were a snarl. + +"So you want to kill him, too? Do you think I would tell you if I +knew? You--you _murderer_! Oh, if I--" But the sentence was cut +short by the loud banging of the door. MacNair had returned into the +night. + +An hour later, when she and Big Lena quitted the bedroom, Corporal +Ripley was breathing easily. Her thoughts turned at once to the +Louchoux girl. She recalled the look of terror that had crept into the +girl's eyes as she gazed into the upturned face of MacNair. With the +force of a blow a thought flashed through her brain, and she clutched +at the edge of the table for support. What was it the girl had told +her about the man who had deceived her into believing she was his wife? +He was a free-trader! MacNair was a free-trader! Could it be---- + +"No, no!" she gasped--"and yet----" + +With an effort she crossed to the door of the girl's room and, pushing +it open, entered to find her cowering, wide-eyed between her blankets. +The sight of the beautiful, terrorized face did not need the +corroboration of the low, half-moaned words, "Oh, please, please, don't +let him get me!" to tell Chloe that her worst fears were realized. + +"Do not be afraid, my dear," she faltered. "He cannot harm you now," +and hurriedly closing the door, staggered across the living-room, threw +herself into a chair beside the table, and buried her face in her arms. + +Harriet Penny opened her door and glanced timidly at the still figure +of the girl, and, deciding it were the better part of prudence not to +intrude, noiselessly closed her door. Hours later, Big Lena, entering +from the kitchen, regarded her mistress with a long vacant-faced stare, +and returned again to the kitchen. All through the night Chloe dozed +fitfully beside the table, but for the most part she was +widely--painfully--awake. Bitterly she reproached herself. Only she +knew the pain the discovery of MacNair's treachery had caused her. And +only she knew why the discovery had caused her pain. + +Always she had believed she had hated this man. By all standards, she +should hate him. This great, elemental brute of the North who had +first attempted to ignore, and later to ridicule and to bully her. +This man who ruled his Indians with a rod of iron, who allowed them +full license in their debauchery, and then shot them down in cold +blood, who shot a boy in the back while in the act of doing his duty, +and who had called her a "damn fool" in her own house, and was even +then off on the trail of another man he had sworn to kill on sight. By +all the laws of justice, equity, and decency, she should hate this man! +She was conscious of no other feeling toward him than a burning, +unquenchable hate. And yet, deep down in her heart she knew--by the +pain of her discovery of his treachery--she knew she loved him, and +utterly she despised herself that this could be so. + +Daylight softly dimmed the yellow lamplight of the room. The girl +arose, and, after a hurried glance at the sleeping Ripley, bathed her +eyes in cold water and passed into the kitchen, where Big Lena was busy +in the preparation of breakfast. + +"Send LeFroy to me at once!" she ordered, and five minutes later, when +the man stood before her, she ordered him to summon all of MacNair's +Indians. + +The man shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other as he +faced her upon the tiny veranda. "MacNair Injuns," he answered, "dem +gon' las' night. Dem gon' 'long wit' MacNair. Heem gon' for hunt +Pierre Lapierre!" + +CHAPTER XXI + +LAPIERRE PAYS A VISIT + +Up on Snare Lake the men to whom Lapierre had passed the word had taken +possession of MacNair's burned and abandoned fort, and there the leader +had joined them after stopping at Fort McMurray to tip off to Ripley +and Craig the bit of evidence that he hoped would clinch the case +against MacNair. More men joined the Snare Lake stampede--flat-faced +breeds from the lower Mackenzie, evil-visaged rivermen from the country +of the Athabasca and the Slave, and the renegade white men who were +Lapierre's underlings. + +By dog-train and on foot they came, dragging their outfits behind them, +and in the eyes of each was the gleam of the greed of gold. The few +cabins which had escaped the conflagration had been pre-empted by the +first-comers, while the later arrivals pitched their tents and shelter +tarps close against the logs of the unburned portion of MacNair's +stockade. + +At the time of Lapierre's arrival the colony had assumed the aspect of +a typical gold camp. The drifted snow had been removed from MacNair's +diggings, and the night-fires that thawed out the gravel glared red and +illuminated the clearing with a ruddy glow in which the dumps loomed +black and ugly, like unclean wens upon the white surface of the +trampled snow. + +Lapierre, a master of organization, saw almost at the moment of his +arrival that the gold-camp system of two-man partnerships could be +vastly improved upon. Therefore, he formed the men into shifts: eight +hours in the gravel and tending the fires, eight hours chopping +cord-wood and digging in the ruins of MacNair's storehouse for the +remains of unburned grub, and eight hours' rest. Always night and day, +the seemingly tireless leader moved about the camp encouraging, +cursing, bullying, urging; forcing the utmost atom of man-power into +the channels of greatest efficiency. For well the quarter-breed knew +that his tenure of the Snare Lake diggings was a tenure wholly by +sufferance of circumstances--over which he, Lapierre, had no control. + +With MacNair safely lodged in the Fort Saskatchewan jail, he felt safe +from interference, at least until late in the spring. This would allow +plenty of time for the melting snows to furnish the water necessary for +the cleaning up of the dumps. After that the fate of his colony hung +upon the decision of a judge somewhere down in the provinces. Thus +Lapierre crowded his men to the utmost, and the increasing size of the +black dump-heaps bespoke a record-breaking clean-up when the waters of +the melting snow should be turned into sluices in the spring. + +With his mind easy in his fancied security, and in order that every +moment of time and every ounce of man-power should be devoted to the +digging of gold, Lapierre had neglected to bring his rifles and +ammunition from the Lac du Mort rendezvous and from the storehouse of +Chloe Elliston's school. An omission for which he cursed himself +roundly upon an evening, early in February when an Indian, gaunt and +wide-eyed from the strain of a forced snow-trail, staggered from the +black shadow of the bush into the glare of the blazing night-fires, and +in a frenzied gibberish of jargon proclaimed that Bob MacNair had +returned to the Northland. And not only that he had returned, but had +visited Lac du Mort in company with a man of the Mounted. + +At first Lapierre flatly refused to credit the Indian's yarn, but when +upon pain of death the man refused to alter his statement, and added +the information that he himself had fired at MacNair from the shelter +of a snow-ridden spruce, and that just as he pulled the trigger the man +of the soldier-police had intervened and stopped the speeding bullet, +Lapierre knew that the Indian spoke the truth. + +In the twinkling of an eye the quarter-breed realized the extreme +danger of his position. His wrath knew no bounds. Up and down he +raged in his fury, cursing like a madman, while all about him--blaming, +reviling, advising--cursed the men of his ill-favoured crew. For not a +man among them but knew that somewhere someone had blundered. And for +some inexplicable reason their situation had suddenly shifted from +comparative security to extreme hazard. They needed not to be told +that with MacNair at large in the Northland their lives hung by a +slender thread. For at that very moment Brute MacNair was, in all +probability, upon the Yellow Knife leading his armed Indians toward +Snare Lake. + +In addition to this was the certain knowledge that the vengeance of the +Mounted would fall in full measure upon the heads of all who were in +any way associated with Pierre Lapierre. An officer had been shot, and +the men of Lapierre were outlawed from Ungava to the Western sea. The +intricate system had crumbled in the batting of an eye. Else why +should a man of the Mounted have been found before the barricade of the +Bastile du Mort in company with Brute MacNair? + +The quick-witted Lapierre was the first to recover from the shock of +the stunning blow. Leaping onto the charred logs of MacNair's +storehouse, he called loudly to his men, who in a panic were wildly +throwing their outfits onto sleds. Despite their mad haste they +crowded close and listened to the words of the man upon whose judgment +they had learned to rely, and from whose dreaded "dismissal from +service" they had cowered in fear. They swarmed about Lapierre a +hundred strong, and his voice rang harsh. + +"You dogs! You _canaille_!" he cried, and they shrank from the baleful +glare of his black eyes. "What would you do? Where would you go? Do +you think that, single-handed, you can escape from MacNair's Indians, +who will follow your trails like hounds and kill you as they would kill +a snared rabbit? I tell you your trails will be short. A dead man +will lie at the end of each. But even if you succeed in escaping the +Indians, what, then, of the Mounted? One by one, upon the rivers and +lakes of the Northland, upon wide snow-steeps of the barren grounds, +even to the shores of the frozen sea, you will be hunted and gathered +in. Or you will be shot like dogs, and your bones left to crunch in +the jaws of the wolf-pack. We are outlaws, all! Not a man of us will +dare show his face in any post or settlement or city in all Canada." + +The men shrank before the words, for they knew them to be true. Again +the leader was speaking, and hope gleamed in fear-strained eyes. + +"We have yet one chance; I, Pierre Lapierre, have not played my last +card. We will stand or fall together! In the Bastile du Mort are many +rifles, and ammunition and provisions for half a year. Once behind the +barricade, we shall be safe from any attack. We can defy MacNair's +Indians and stand off the Mounted until such time as we are in a +position to dictate our own terms. If we stand man to man together, we +have everything to gain and nothing to lose. We are outlawed, every +one. There is no turning back!" + +Lapierre's bold assurance averted the threatened panic, and with a yell +the men fell to work packing their outfits for the journey to Lac du +Mort. The quarter-breed despatched scouts to the southward to +ascertain the whereabouts of MacNair, and, if possible, to find out +whether or not the officer of the Mounted had been killed by the shot +of the Indian. + +At early dawn the outfit crossed Snare Lake and headed for Lac du Mort +by way of Grizzly Bear, Lake Mackay, and Du Rocher. Upon the evening +of the fourth day, when they threaded the black-spruce swamp and pulled +wearily into the fort on Lac du Mort, Lapierre found a scout awaiting +him with the news that MacNair had headed northward with his Indians, +and that LeFroy was soon to start for Fort Resolution with the wounded +man of the Mounted. Whereupon he selected the fastest and freshest +dog-team available and, accompanied by a half-dozen of his most trusted +lieutenants, took the trail for Chloe Elliston's school on-the Yellow +Knife, after issuing orders as to the conduct of defence in case of an +attack by MacNair's Indians. + + +Affairs at the school were at a standstill. From a busy hive of +activity, with the women and children showing marked improvement at +their tasks, and the men happy in the felling of logs and the +whip-sawing of lumber, the settlement had suddenly slumped into a +disorganized hodge-podge of unrest and anxiety. MacNair's Indians had +followed him into the North; their women and children brooded sullenly, +and a feeling of unrest and expectancy pervaded the entire colony. + +Among the inmates of the cottage the condition was even worse. With +Harriet Penny hysterical and excited, Big Lena more glum and taciturn +than usual, the Louchoux girl cowering in mortal dread of impending +disaster, and Chloe herself disgusted, discouraged, nursing in her +heart a consuming rage against Brute MacNair, the man who had wrought +the harm, and who had been her evil genius since she had first set foot +into the North. + +Upon the afternoon of the day she despatched LeFroy to Fort Resolution +with the wounded officer of the Mounted, Chloe stood at her little +window gazing out over the wide sweep of the river and wondering how it +all would end. Would MacNair find Lapierre, and would he kill him? Or +would the Mounted heed the urgent appeal she despatched in care of +LeFroy and arrive in time to recapture MacNair before he came upon his +victim? + +"If I only knew where to find him," she muttered, "I could warn him of +his danger." + +The next moment her eyes widened with amazement, and she pressed her +face close against the glass; across the clearing from the direction of +the river dashed a dog-team, with three men running before and three +behind, while upon the sled, jaunty and smiling, and debonair as ever, +sat Pierre Lapierre himself. With a flourish he swung the dogs up to +the tiny veranda and stepped from the sled, and the next moment Chloe +found herself standing in the little living-room with Lapierre bowing +low over her hand. Harriet Penny was in the schoolhouse; the Louchoux +girl was helping Big Lena in the kitchen, and for the first time in +many moons Chloe Elliston felt glad that she was alone with Lapierre. + +When at length she removed her hand from his grasp she stood for some +moments regarding the clean-cut lines of his features, and then she +smiled as she noted the trivial fact that he had removed his hat, and +that he stood humbly before her with bared head. A great surge of +feeling rushed over her as she realized how clean and good--how perfect +this man seemed in comparison with the hulking brutality of MacNair. +She motioned him to a seat beside the table, and drawing her chair +close to his side, poured into his attentive and sympathetic ears all +that she knew of MacNair's escape, of the shooting of Corporal Ripley, +and his departure in the night with his Indians. + +Lapierre listened, smiling inwardly at her version of the affair, and +at the conclusion of her words leaned forward and took one of the slim +brown hands in his. For a long, long time the girl listened in silence +to the pleading of his lips; and the little room was filled with the +passion of his low-voiced eloquence. + +Neither was aware of the noiseless opening of a door, nor of the +wide-eyed, girlish face that stared at them through the aperture, nor +was either aware that the man's words were borne distinctly to the ears +of the Louchoux girl. Nor could they note the change from an +expression of startled surprise to slitlike, venomous points of fire +that took place in the eyes of the listening girl--nor the clenching +fists. Nor did they hear the soft, catlike tread with which the girl +quit the door and crossed to the kitchen table. Nor could they see the +cruel snarl of her lips as her fingers closed tightly about the haft of +the huge butcher-knife, whose point was sharp and whose blade was keen. +Nor did they hear the noiseless tread with which the girl again +approached the door, swung wider now to admit the passage of her tense, +lithe body. Nor did they see her crouch for a spring with the +tight-clutched knife upraised and the gleaming slitlike eyes focused +upon a point mid-way between Lapierre's shoulder-blades as his arm +unconsciously came to rest upon the back of Chloe Elliston's chair. + +For a long moment the girl poised, gloating--enjoying in its fulness +the measure of her revenge. Before her, leaning in just the right +attitude to receive upon his defenceless back the full force of the +blow, sat the man who had deceived her. For not until she had listened +to the low-voiced, impassioned words had she realized there had been +any deception. With the realization came the hot, fierce flame of +anger that seared her very soul. An anger engendered by her own wrong, +and fanned to its fiercest by the knowledge that the man was at that +moment seeking to deceive the white woman--the woman who had taught her +much, and who with the keenest interest and gentleness had treated her +as an equal. + +She had come to love this white woman with the love that was greater +than the love of life. And the words to which this woman was now +listening were the same words, from the same lips, to which she herself +had listened beside the cold waters of the far-off Mackenzie. Thus the +Louchoux girl faced suddenly her first great problem. And to the +half-savage mind of her the solution of the problem seemed very simple, +very direct, and, had Big Lena not entered by way of the outer door at +the precise moment that the girl crouched with uplifted knife, it would +doubtless have been very effective. + +But Big Lena did enter, and, with a swiftness of perception that belied +the vacuous stare of the fishlike eyes, took in the situation at a +glance; for LeFroy had already hinted to her of the relation which +existed between his erstwhile superior and this girl from the land of +the midnight sun. Whereupon Big Lena had kept her own counsel and had +patiently bided her time, and now her time had come, and she was in no +wise minded that the fulness of her vengeance should be marred by the +untimely taking off of Lapierre. Swiftly she crossed the room, and as +her strong fingers closed about the wrist of the Indian girl's upraised +knife-arm, the other hand reached beyond and noiselessly closed the +door between the two rooms. + +The Louchoux girl whirled like a flash and sank her strong, white teeth +deep in the rolled-sleeved forearm of the huge Swedish woman. But a +thumb, inserted dextrously and with pressure in the little hollow +behind the girl's ear, caused her jaws instantly to relax, and she +stood trembling before the big woman, who regarded her with a tolerant +grin, and the next moment laid a friendly hand upon her shoulder and, +turning her gently about, guided her to a chair at the farther side of +the room. + +Followed then a quarter of an hour of earnest conversation, in which +the older woman managed to convey, through the medium of her broken +English, a realization that Lapierre's discomfiture could be +encompassed much more effectively and in a thoroughly orthodox and less +sanguinary manner. + +The ethics of Big Lena's argument were undoubtedly beyond the Louchoux +girl's comprehension; but because this woman had been good to her, and +because she seemed greatly to desire this thing, the girl consented to +abstain from violence, at least for the time being. A few minutes +later, when Chloe Elliston opened the door and announced that Mr. +Lapierre would join them at supper, she found the two women busily +engaged in the final preparation of the meal. + +Big Lena passed into the dining-room, which was also the living-room, +and without deigning to notice Lapierre's presence, proceeded to lay +the table for supper. Returning to the kitchen, she despatched the +Indian girl to the storehouse upon an errand which would insure her +absence until after Chloe and Lapierre and Harriet Penny had taken +their places at the table. + +Since her arrival at the school the Louchoux girl had been treated as +"one of the family," and it was with a look of inquiry toward the +girl's empty chair that Chloe seated herself with the others. +Interpreting the look, Big Lena assured her that the girl would return +in a few moments; and Chloe had just launched into an impassioned +account of the virtues and the accomplishments of her ward, when the +door opened and the girl herself entered the room and crossed swiftly +to her accustomed place. As she stood with her hand on the back of her +chair, Lapierre for the first time glanced into her face. + +The quarter-breed was a man trained as few men are trained to meet +emergencies, to face crises with an impassiveness of countenance that +would shame the Sphinx. He had lost thousands across the green cloth +of gambling-tables without batting an eye. He had faced death and had +killed men with a face absolutely devoid of expression, and upon +numerous occasions his nerve--the consummate _sang-froid_ of him--had +alone thrown off the suspicion that would have meant arrest upon +charges which would have taken more than a lifetime to expiate. And as +he sat at the little table beside Chloe Elliston, his eyes met +unflinchingly the flashing, accusing gaze of the black eyes of the girl +from the Northland--the girl who was his wife. + +For a long moment their glances held, while the atmosphere of the +little room became surcharged with the terrible portent of this silent +battle of eyes. Harriet Penny gasped audibly; and as Chloe stared from +one to the other of the white, tense faces before her, her brain seemed +suddenly to numb, and the breath came short and quick between her +parted lips to the rapid heaving of her bosom. The Louchoux girl's +eyes seemed fairly to blaze with hate. The fingers of her hand dug +into the wooden back of her chair until the knuckles whitened. She +leaned far forward and, pointing directly into the face of the man, +opened her lips to speak. It was then Lapierre's gaze wavered, for in +that moment he realized that for him the game was lost. + +With a half-smothered curse he leaped to his feet, overturning his +chair, which banged sharply upon the plank floor. He glanced wildly +about the little room as if seeking means of escape, and his eyes +encountered the form of Big Lena, who stood stolidly in the doorway, +blocking the exit. In a flash he noted the huge, bared forearm; noted, +too, that one thick hand gripped tightly the helve of a chopping ax, +with which she toyed lightly as if it were a little thing, while the +thumb of her other hand played smoothly, but with a certain terrible +significance, along the keen edge of its blade. Lapierre's glance +flashed to her face and encountered the fishlike stare of the +china-blue eyes, as he had encountered it once before. The eyes, as +before, were expressionless upon their surface, but deep down--far into +their depths--Lapierre caught a cold gleam of mockery. And then the +Louchoux girl was speaking, and he turned upon her with a snarl. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +CHLOE WRITES A LETTER + +When Bob MacNair, exasperated beyond all patience by Chloe Elliston's +foolish accusation, stamped angrily from the cottage, after depositing +the wounded Ripley upon the bed, he proceeded at once to the barracks, +where he sought out Wee Johnnie Tamarack, who informed him that Lapierre +was up on Snare Lake, at the head of a band of men who had already +succeeded in dotting the snow of the barren grounds with the black dumps +of many shafts. Whereupon he ordered Wee Johnnie Tamarack to assemble +the Indians at once at the storehouse. + +No sooner had the old Indian departed upon his mission than the door of +the barracks was pushed violently open and Big Lena entered, dragging by +the arm the thoroughly cowed figure of LeFroy. At sight of the man who, +under Lapierre's orders, had wrought the destruction of his post at Snare +Lake, MacNair leaped forward with a snarl of anger. But before he could +reach the trembling man the form of Big Lena interposed, and MacNair +found himself swamped by a jargon of broken English that taxed to the +utmost his power of comprehension. + +"Ju yoost vait vun meenit. Ay tal ju som'ting gude. Dis damn LeFroy, he +bane bad man. He vork by Lapierre, and he tak' de vhiskey to jour +Injuns, but he don't vork no more by Lapierre; he vork by me. Ay goin' +to marry him, and ju bet Ay keep him gude, or Ay bust de stove chunk +'crost his head. He vork by Mees Chloe now, and he lak ju gif him chance +to show he ain't no bad man no more." + +Big Lena shook the man roughly by way of emphasis, and MacNair smiled as +he noted the foolish grin with which LeFroy submitted to the inevitable. +For years he had known LeFroy as a bad man, second only to Lapierre in +cunning and brutal cruelty; and to see him now, cowering under the +domination of his future spouse, was to MacNair the height of the +ridiculous--but MacNair was unmarried. + +"All right," he growled, and LeFroy's relief at the happy termination of +the interview was plainly written upon his features, for this meeting had +not been of his own seeking. The memory of the shots which had taken off +two of his companions that night on Snare Lake, was still fresh, and in +his desire to avoid a meeting with MacNair he had sought refuge in the +kitchen. Whereupon Big Lena had taken matters into her own hands and +literally dragged him into MacNair's presence, replying to his terrified +protest that if MacNair was going to kill him, he was going to kill and +he might as well have it over with. + +Thus it was that the relieved LeFroy leaped with alacrity to obey when, a +moment later, MacNair ordered him to the storehouse to break out the +necessary provisions for a ten-days' journey for all his Indians. So +well did the half-breed execute the order that upon MacNair's arrival at +the store-house he found LeFroy not only supplying provisions with a +lavish hand, but taking huge delight in passing out to the waiting +Indians Lapierre's Mauser rifles and ammunition. + +When MacNair, with his Indians, reached Snare Lake, it was to find that +Pierre Lapierre had taken himself and his outlaws to the Lac du Mort +rendezvous. Whereupon he immediately despatched thirty Indians back to +LeFroy for the supplies necessary to follow Lapierre to his stronghold. +Awaiting the return of the supply train, MacNair employed his remaining +Indians in getting out logs for the rebuilding of his fort, and he smiled +grimly as his eyes roved over the dumps--the rich dumps which represented +two months' well-directed labour of a gang of a hundred men. + + +As Chloe Elliston sat in the little living-room and listened to the +impassioned words of Lapierre, the man's chance of winning her was far +better than at any time in the whole course of their acquaintance. +Without in the least realizing it, the girl had all along held a certain +regard for MacNair--a regard that was hard to explain, and that the girl +herself would have been the first to disavow. She hated him! And +yet--she was forced to admit even to herself, the man fascinated her. +But never until the moment of the realization of his true character, as +forced upon her by the action and words of the Louchoux girl, had she +entertained the slightest suspicion that she loved him. And with the +discovery had come a sense of shame and humiliation that had all but +broken her spirit. + +Her hatred for MacNair was real enough now. That hatred, the shame and +humility, and the fact that Lapierre was pleading with her as he had +never pled before, were going far to convince the girl that her previous +estimate of the quarter-breed had been a mistaken estimate, and that he +was in truth the fine, clean, educated man of the North which on the +surface he appeared to be. A man whose aim it was to deal fairly and +honourably with the Indians, and who in reality had the best interests of +his people at heart. + +No one but Chloe herself will ever know how near she came upon that +afternoon to yielding to his pleading, and laying her soul bare to him. +But something interposed--fate? Destiny? The materialist smiles +"supper." Be that as it may, had she yielded to Lapierre's plans, they +would have stolen from the school that very night and proceeded to Fort +Rae, to be married by the priest at the Mission. For Lapierre, fully +alive to the danger of delay, had eloquently pleaded his cause. + +Not only was MacNair upon his trail--MacNair the relentless, the +indomitable--but also the word had passed in the North, and the men of +the Mounted--those inscrutable sentinels of the silence whose watchword +is "get the man"--were aroused to avenge a comrade. And Lapierre +realized with a chill in his heart that he was "the man"! His one chance +lay in a timely marriage with Chloe Elliston, and a quick dash for the +States. If the dash succeeded, he had nothing to fear. Even if it +failed, and he fell into the hands of the Mounted--with the Elliston +millions behind him, he felt he could snap his fingers in the face of the +law. Men of millions do not serve time. + +For the men who awaited him in the Bastile du Mort, Lapierre gave no +thought. He would stand by them as long as it furthered his own ends to +stand by them. When they ceased to be a factor in his own safety, they +could shift for themselves, even as he, Lapierre, was shifting for +himself. Someone has said every man has his price. It is certain that +every man has his limit beyond which he may not go. + +Lapierre, a man of consummate nerve, had put forth a final effort to save +himself. Had put forth the best effort that was in him to induce Chloe +Elliston to marry him. He had found the girl kinder, more receptive than +he had dared hope. His spirits arose to a point they had never before +attained. Success seemed within his grasp. Then, suddenly, just as his +fingers were about to close upon the prize--the prize that meant to him +life and plenty, instead of death--the Louchoux girl, a passing folly of +a bygone day, had suddenly risen up and confronted him--and he knew that +his cause was lost. + +Lapierre had reached his limit of control, and when he turned at the +sound of the Indian girl's voice, his hand instinctively flew to his +belt. In his rage at the sudden turn of events, he became for the +instant a madman, whose one thought was to destroy her who had wrought +the harm. The next instant the snarl died upon his lips and his hand +dropped limply to his side. In two strides Big Lena was upon him and her +thick fingers bit deep into his shoulder as she spun him to face her--to +face the polished bit of the keen-edged ax which the huge woman +flourished carelessly within an inch of his nose. + +The fingers released their grip, Lapierre's gun was jerked from its +holster, and a moment later thumped heavily upon the floor of the kitchen +fifteen feet away, while the woman pointed grimly toward the overturned +chair. Lapierre righted the chair, and as he sank into it, Chloe, who +had stared dumbfounded upon the scene, saw that little beads of sweat +stood out sharply against the pallor of his bloodless brow. As from a +great distance the words of the Louchoux girl fell upon her ears. She +was speaking rapidly, and the finger which she pointed at Lapierre +trembled violently. + +"You lied!" cried the girl. "You have always lied! You lied when you +told me we were married. You lied when you said you would return! Since +coming to this school I have learned much. Many things have I learned +that I never knew before. When you said you would return, I believed +you--even as my mother believed my father when he went away in the ship +many years ago, and left me a babe in arms to live or to die among the +teepees of the Louchoux, the people of my mother, who was the mother of +his child. My mother has not been to the school, and she believes some +day my father will return. For many years she has waited, has starved, +and has suffered--always watching for my father's return. And the +factors have laughed, and the rivermen taunted her with being the mother +of a fatherless child! Ah, she has paid! Always the Indian women must +pay! And I have paid also. All my life have I been hungry, and in the +winter I have always been cold. + +"Then you came with your laughing lips and your words of love and I went +with you, and you took me to distant rivers. All through the summer +there was plenty to eat in our teepee. I was happy, and for the first +time in my life my heart was glad--for I loved you! And then came the +winter, and the freezing up of the rivers, and the day you told me you +must return to the southward--to the land of the white men--without me. +And I believed you even when they told me you would not return. I was +brave--for that is the way of love, to believe, and to hope, and to be +brave." + +The girl's voice faltered, and the trembling hand gripped the back of the +chair upon which she leaned heavily for support. + +"All my life have I paid," she continued, bitterly. "Yet, it was not +enough. Years, when the children of the trappers had at times plenty to +eat I was always hungry and cold. + +"When you came into my life I thought at last I had paid in full--that my +mother and I both had paid for her belief in the white man's word. Ah, +if I had known! I should have known, for well I remember, it was upon +the day before--before I went away with you--that I told you of my +father, and of how we always went North in the winter, knowing that again +his ship would winter in the ice of the Bufort Sea. And you heard the +story and laughed, and you said that my father would not return--that the +white men never return. And when I grew afraid, you told me that you +were part Indian. That your people were my people. I was a fool! I +listened to your words!" + +The girl dropped heavily into her chair and buried her face in her arms. + +"And now I know," she sobbed, "that I have not even begun to pay!" + +Suddenly she leaped to her feet and, dashing around the table placed +herself between Lapierre and Chloe, who had listened white-lipped to her +words. Once more the voice of the Louchoux girl rang through the +room--high-pitched and thin with anger now--and the eyes that glared into +the eyes of Lapierre blazed black with fury. + +"You have lied to her! But you cannot harm her! With my own ears I +heard your words! The same words I heard from your lips before, upon the +banks of the far-off rivers, and the words are lies--lies--lies!"--the +voice rose to a shriek--"the white woman is good! She is my friend! She +has taught me much, and now, I will save her." + +With a swift movement she caught the carving-knife from the table and +sprang toward the defenceless Lapierre. "I will cut your heart in little +bits and feed it to the dogs!" + +Once more the hand of Big Lena wrenched the knife from the girl's grasp. +And once more the huge Swedish woman fixed Lapierre with her vacuous +stare. Then slowly she raised her arm and pointed toward the door: "Ju +git! And never ju don't come back no more. Ay don't lat ju go 'cause Ay +lak' ju, but Ay bane 'fraid dis leetle girl she cut ju up and feed ju to +de dogs, and Ay no lak' for git dem dogs poison!" + +And Lapierre tarried not for further orders. Pausing only to recover his +hat from its peg on the wall, he opened the outer door and with one +sidewise malevolent glance toward the little group at the table, slunk +hurriedly from the room. + +Hardly had the door closed behind him than Chloe, who had sat as one +stunned during the girl's accusation and her later outburst of fury, +leaped to her feet and seized her arm in a convulsive grip. "Tell me!" +she cried; "what do you mean? Speak! Speak, can't you? What is this +you have said? What is it all about?" + +"Why it is he, Pierre Lapierre. He is the free-trader of whom I told +you. The man who--who deceived me into believing I was his wife." + +"But," cried Chloe, staring at her in astonishment. "I thought--I +thought MacNair was the man!" + +"No! No! No!" cried the girl. "Not MacNair! Pierre Lapierre, he is +the man! He who sat in that chair, and whose heart I would cut into tiny +bits that you shall not be made to pay, even as I have paid, for +listening to the words of his lips." + +"But," faltered Chloe, "I don't--I don't understand. Surely, you, fear +MacNair. Surely, that night when he came into the room, carrying the +wounded policeman, you fled from him in terror." + +"MacNair is a white man----" + +"But why should you fear him?" + +"I fear him," she answered, "because among the Indians--among the +Louchoux--the people of my mother, and among the Eskimoes, he is called +'The Bad Man of the North.' I hated him because Lapierre taught me to +hate him. I do not hate him now, nor do I fear him. But among the +Indians and among the free-traders he is both hated and feared. He +chases the free-traders from the rivers, and he kills them and destroys +their whiskey. For he has said, like the men of the soldier-police, that +the red man shall drink no whiskey. But the red men like the whiskey. +Their life is hard and they do not have much happiness, and the whiskey +of the white man makes them happy. And in the days before MacNair they +could get much whiskey, but now the free-traders fear him, and only +sometimes do they dare to bring whiskey to the land of the far-off rivers. + +"At the posts my people may trade for food and for guns and for clothing, +but they may not buy whiskey. But the free-traders sell whiskey. Also +they will trade for the women. But MacNair has said they shall not trade +for the women. At times, when men think he is far away, he comes +swooping through the North with his Snare Lake Indians at his heels, and +they chase the free-traders from the rivers. And on the shores of the +frozen sea he chases the whalemen from the Eskimo villages even to their +ships which lie far out from the coast, locked in the grip of the +ice-pack. + +"For these things I have hated and feared him. Since I have been here at +the school I have learned much. Both from your teachings, and from +talking with the women of MacNair's Indians. I know now that MacNair is +good, and that the factors and the soldier-police and the priest spoke +words of truth, and that Lapierre and the free-traders lied!" + +As the Indian girl poured forth her story, Chloe Elliston listened as one +in a dream. What was this she was saying, that it was Lapierre who sold +whiskey to the Indians, and MacNair who stood firm, and struck mighty +blows for the right of things? Surely, this girl's mind was +unhinged--or, had something gone wrong with her own brain? Was it +possible she had heard aright? + +Suddenly she remembered the words of Corporal Ripley, when he asked her +to withdraw the charge of murder against MacNair: "In the North we know +something of MacNair's work." And again: "We know the North needs men +like MacNair." + +Could it be possible that after all--with the thought there flashed into +the girl's mind the scene on Snare Lake. Had she not seen with her own +eyes the evidence of this man's work among the Indians! With a gesture +of appeal she turned to Big Lena. + +"Surely, Lena, you remember that night on Snare Lake? You saw MacNair's +Indians, drunk as fiends--and the buildings all on fire? You saw MacNair +kicking and knocking them about? And you saw him fire the shots that +killed two men? Speak, can't you? Did you see these things? Did I see +them? Was I dreaming? Or am I dreaming now?" + +Big Lena shifted her weight ponderously, and the stare of the china-blue +eyes met steadily the half-startled eyes of the girl. "Yah, Ay seen das +all right. Dem Injuns dey awful drunk das night and MacNair he come +'long and schlap dem and kick dem 'round. But das gude for dem. Dey got +it comin'. Dey should not ought to drink Lapierre's vhiskey." + +"Lapierre's whiskey!" cried the girl. "Are you crazy?" + +"Naw, Ay tank Ay ain't so crazy. Lapierre he fool ju long tam'." + +"What do you mean," asked Chloe. + +"Ah, das a'right," answered the woman. "He fool ju gude, but he ain't +fool Big Lena. Ay know all about him for a jear." + +"But," pursued the girl, "Lapierre was with us that night!" + +Lena shrugged. "Yah, Lapierre very smart. He send LeFroy 'long wit' das +vhiskey. Den v'en he know MacNair's Injuns git awful drunk, he tak' ju +'long for see it." + +"LeFroy!" cried Chloe. "Why, LeFroy was off to the eastward trying to +run down some whiskey-runners." + +Big Lena laughed derisively. "How ju fin' out?" she asked. + +Chloe hesitated. "Why--why, Lapierre told me." + +Again Big Lena laughed. "Yah, Lapierre tal ju, but, LeFroy, he don't +know nuthin' 'bout no vhiskey-runners. Only him and Lapierre dos all de +vhiskey-running in dis country. LeFroy, he tal me all 'bout das. He +tak' das vhiskey up dere and he sell it to MacNair's Injuns, and MacNair +shoot after him and kill two LeFroy's men. Ay goin' marry LeFroy, and he +tal me de trut'. He 'fraid to lie to me, or Ay break him in two. +LeFroy, he bane gude man now, he quit Lapierre. Ju bet ju if he don't +bane gude Ay gif him haal. Ay tal him it bane gude t'ing if MacNair kill +him das night. + +"Den MacNair come on de school and brung de policeman, LeFroy he 'fraid +for scart, and he goin' hide in de kitchen, and Ay drag him out and brung +him 'long to see MacNair. LeFroy, he 'fraid lak' haal. He squeal +MacNair goin' kill him. But Ay tal him das ain't much loss annyhow. If +he goin' kill him it's besser he kill him now, den Ay ain't got to bodder +wit' him no more. But MacNair, he don't kill him. Ay tal him LeFroy +goin' to be gude man now, and den MacNair he laugh, and tal LeFroy to go +'long and git out de grub." + +"But," cried Chloe, "you say you have known all about Lapierre for a +year, and you knew all the time that MacNair was right, and Lapierre was +wrong, and you let me go blindly on thinking Lapierre was my friend, and +treating MacNair as I did! Why didn't you tell me?" + +"Ju got yoost so manny eyes lak' me!" retorted the woman. "Ju neffer ask +me vat Ay tank 'bout MacNair and 'bout Lapierre. And Ay neffer tal ju +das 'cause Ay tank it besser ju fin' out yourself. Ay know ju got to +fin' das out sometam'. Den ju believe it. Ju know lot 'bout vat stands +in de books, but das mos' lak' MacNair say: 'bout lot t'ing, you damn +fool!" + +Chloe gasped. It was the longest speech Big Lena had ever made. And the +girl learned that when the big woman chose she could speak straight from +the shoulder. + +Harriet Penny gasped also. She pushed back her chair, and shook an +outraged finger at Big Lena. "Go into the kitchen where you belong!" she +cried. "I really cannot permit such language in my presence. You are +unspeakably coarse!" + +Chloe whirled on the little woman like a flash. "You shut up, Hat +Penny!" she snapped savagely. "You don't happen to do the permitting +around here. If your ears are too delicate to listen to _the truth_ you +better go into your own room and shut the door." And then crossing +swiftly to her own room, she opened the door, but before entering she +turned to Big Lena, "Make a pot of strong coffee," she ordered, "and +bring it to me here." + +A few minutes later when the woman entered and deposited the tray +containing coffee-pot, cream-pitcher, and sugar-bowl upon the table, she +found Chloe striding up and down the room. There was a new light in the +girl's eyes, and, very much to Big Lena's surprise, she turned suddenly +upon her and throwing her arms about the massive shoulders, planted a +kiss squarely upon the wide, flat mouth. + +"Ah, Lena," she cried, happily, "you--you are a dear!" And the Swedish +woman, with unexpected gentleness, patted the girl's shoulder, and as she +passed out of the door smiled broadly. + +For an hour Chloe paced up and down the little room. At first she could +scarcely bring herself to realize that the two men, MacNair and Lapierre, +had changed places. She remembered that in that very room she had more +than once pictured that very thing. As the conviction grew upon her, her +pulse quickened. Never before had she been so supremely--so wildly +happy. There was a strange barbaric singing in her heart, as for the +first time she saw MacNair--the real MacNair at his true worth. MacNair, +the big man, the really great man, strong and brave, alone in the North +fighting, night and day, against the snarling wolves of the world-waste. +Fighting for the good of his Indians and the right of things as they +should be. + +Her mind dwelt upon the fine courage and the patience of him. She +recalled the hurt look in his eyes when she ordered his arrest. She +remembered his words to the officer--words of kindly apology for her own +blind folly. She penetrated the rough exterior, and read the real +gentleness of his soul. And then, with a shame and mortification that +almost overwhelmed her, she saw herself as she must appear to him. She +recollected how she had accused him, had sneered at him, had called him a +liar and a thief, a murderer, and worse. + +Tears streamed unheeded from her eyes as she recalled the unconscious +pathos of his words as he stood beside his mother's grave. And the look +of reproach with which he sank, to the ground when Lapierre's bullet laid +him low. Her heart thrilled at the memory of the blazing wrath of him, +the cold gleam of his eyes, the wicked snap of his iron jaw, as he said, +"I have taken the man-trail!" She remembered the words he had once +spoken: "When you have learned the North, we shall be friends." She +wondered now if possibly this thing could ever be? Had she learned the +North? Could she ever atone in his eyes for her cocksureness, her blind +egotism? + +Chloe quickened her pace, as if to walk away and leave these things +behind. How she hated herself! It seemed to her, in her shame and +mortification, that she could never look into this man's eyes again. Her +glance strayed to the portrait of Tiger Elliston that stared down at her +from its bullet-shattered frame upon the wall. The eyes of the portrait +seemed to bore deep into her own, and the words of MacNair flashed +through her brain--the words he had used as he gazed into the eyes of +that selfsame portrait. + +Unconsciously--fiercely she repeated those words aloud: "By God! Yon is +the face of a _man_!" She started at the sound of her own voice. And +then, like liquid flame, it seemed to the girl the blood of Tiger +Elliston seethed and boiled in her veins--spurring her on to _do_! + +"Do what?" she questioned. "What was there left to _do_, for one who had +blundered so miserably?" + +Like a flash came the answer. She had done MacNair a great wrong. She +must right that wrong, or at least admit it. She must own her error and +offer an apology. + +Seating herself at the table, she seized a pen and wrote rapidly for a +long, long time. And then for a long time more she sat buried in +thought, and at the end of an hour she arose and tore up the pages she +had written, and sat down again and penned another letter which she +placed in an envelope addressed with the name of MacNair. This done she +took the letter, tiptoed across the living-room, and pushing open the +Louchoux girl's door entered and seated herself upon the edge of the bed. +The Indian girl was wide awake. A brown hand stole from beneath the +covers and clasped reassuringly about Chloe's fingers. + +She handed the girl the letter. + +"I can trust you," she said, "to place this in MacNair's hands. Go to +sleep now, I will talk further with you tomorrow." And with a hurried +good-night, Chloe returned to her own room. + +She blew out the lamp and threw herself fully dressed upon the bed. +Sleep would not come. She stared long at the little patch of moonlight +that showed upon the bare floor. She tried to think, but her heart was +filled with a strange restlessness. Arising from the bed, she crossed to +the window and stared out across the moonlit clearing toward the dark +edge of the forest--the mysterious forest whose depths seemed black with +sinister mystery--whose trees bed-coned, stretching out their branches +like arms. + +A strange restlessness came over her. The confines of the little room +seemed smothering--crushing her. Crossing to the row of pegs she drew on +her _parka_ and heavy mittens, and tiptoeing to the outer door, passed +out into the night, crossed the moonlit clearing, and stepped +half-fearfully into the deep shadow of the forest--to the call of the +beckoning arms. + +As her form was swallowed up in the blackness, another form--a gigantic +figure that bore clutched in the grasp of a capable hand the helve of an +ax, upon the polished steel of whose double-bitted blade the moonbeams +gleamed cruelly--slipped from the door of the kitchen and followed +swiftly in the wake of the girl. Big Lena was taking no chances. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE WOLF-CRY! + +So sudden and unexpected had been Lapierre's _denouement_ at the hands +of the Indian girl and Big Lena, that when he quitted Chloe Elliston's +living-room the one thought in his mind was to return to his stronghold +on Lac du Mort. For the first time the real seriousness of his +situation forced itself upon him. He knew that no accident had brought +the officer of the Mounted to the Lac du Mort stronghold in company +with Bob MacNair, and he realized the utter futility of attempting an +escape to the outside, since the shooting of the officer at the very +walls of the stockade. + +As the husband of Chloe Elliston, the thing might have been +accomplished. But alone or in company with the half-dozen outlaws who +had accompanied him to the school, never. There was but one course +open to him: To return to Lac du Mort and make a stand against the +authorities and against MacNair. And the fact that the man realized in +all probability it would be his last stand, was borne to the +understanding of the men who accompanied him. + +These men knew nothing of the reason for Lapierre's trip to the school, +but they were not slow to perceive that whatever the reason was, +Lapierre had failed in its accomplishment. For they knew Lapierre as a +man who rarely lost his temper. + +They knew him as one equal to any emergency--one who would shoot a man +down in cold blood for disobeying an order or relaxing vigilance, but +who would shoot with a smile rather than a frown. + +Thus when Lapierre joined them in their camp at the edge of the +clearing, and with a torrent of unreasoning curses ordered the dogs +harnessed and the outfit got under way for Lac du Mort, they knew their +cause was at best a forlorn hope. + +Darkness overtook them and they camped to await the rising of the late +moon. While the men prepared the supper, Lapierre glowered upon his +sled by the fire, occasionally leaping to his feet to stamp impatiently +up and down upon the snow. The leader spoke no word and none ventured +to address him. The meal was eaten in silence. At its conclusion the +men took heart and sprang eagerly to obey an order--the order puzzled +them not a little, but no man questioned it. For the command came +crisp and sharp, and without profanity, in a voice they well knew. +Lapierre was himself again, and his black eyes gleamed wickedly as he +rolled a cigarette by the light of the rising moon. + +The dogs were whirled upon the back-trail, and once more the outfit +headed for the school upon the bank of the Yellow Knife. It was well +toward midnight when Lapierre called a halt. They were close to the +edge of the clearing. Leaving one man with the dogs and motioning the +others to follow, he stole noiselessly from tree to tree until the dull +square of light that glowed from the window of Chloe Elliston's room +showed distinctly through the interlacing branches. The quarters of +the Indians were shrouded in darkness. For a long time Lapierre stood +staring at the little square of light, while his men, motionless as +statues, blended into the shadows of the trees. The light was +extinguished. The quarter-breed moved to the edge of the clearing and, +seating himself upon the root of a gnarled banskian, rapidly outlined +his plan. + +Suddenly his form stiffened and he drew close against the trunk of his +tree, motioning the others to do likewise. The door of the cottage had +opened. A parka-clad figure stepped from the little veranda, paused +uncertainly in the moonlight, and then, with light, swinging strides, +moved directly toward the banskian. Lapierre's pulse quickened, and +his lips twisted into an evil smile. That the figure was none other +than Chloe Elliston was easily discernible in the bright moonlight, and +with fiendish satisfaction the quarter-breed realized that the girl was +playing directly into his hands. For, as he sat upon the sled beside +the little camp-fire, his active brain had evolved a new scheme. If +Chloe Elliston could not be made to accompany him willingly, why not +unwillingly? + +Lapierre believed that once safely entrenched behind the barriers of +the Bastile du Mort, he could hold out for a matter of six months +against any forces which were likely to attack him. He realized that +his most serious danger was from MacNair and his Indians. For Lapierre +knew MacNair. He knew that once upon his trail, MacNair would +relentlessly stick to that trail--the trail that must end at a +grave--many graves, in fact. For as the forces stood, Lapierre knew +that many men must die, and bitterly he cursed LeFroy for disclosing to +MacNair the whereabouts of the Mausers concealed in the storehouse. + +The inevitable attack of the Mounted he knew would come later. For the +man knew their methods. He knew that a small detachment, one officer, +or perhaps two, would appear before the barricade and demand his +surrender, and when surrender was refused, a report would go in to +headquarters, and after that--Lapierre shrugged--well, that was a +problem of tomorrow. In the meantime, if he held Chloe Elliston +prisoner under threat of death, it was highly probable that he could +deal to advantage with MacNair, and, at the proper time, with the +Mounted. If not--_Voila_! It was a fight to the death, anyway. And +again Lapierre shrugged. + +Nearer and nearer drew the unsuspecting figure of the girl. The man +noted the haughty, almost arrogant beauty of her, as the moonlight +played upon the firm resolute features, framed by the oval of her +_parka_-hood. The next instant she paused in the shadow of his +banskian, almost at his side. Lapierre sprang to his feet and stood +facing her there in the snow. The smile of the thin lips hardened as +he noted the sudden pallor of her face and the look of wild terror that +flashed for a moment from her eyes. And then, almost on the instant, +the girl's eyes narrowed, the firm white chin thrust forward, and the +red lips curled into a sneer of infinite loathing and contempt. +Instinctively, Lapierre knew that the hands within the heavy mittens +had clenched into fighting fists. For an instant she faced him, and +then, drawing away as if he were some grizzly, loathsome thing +poisoning the air he breathed, she spoke. Her voice trembled with the +fury of her words, and Lapierre winced to the lash of a woman's scorn. + +"You--you _dog_!" she cried. "You dirty, low-lived _cur_! How _dare_ +you stand there grinning? How _dare_ you show your face? Oh, if I +were a man I would--I would strangle the life from your vile, sneaking +body with my two hands!" + +The words ended in a stifled cry. With a snarl, Lapierre sprang upon +her, pinning her arms to her side. The next instant before his eyes +loomed the form of Big Lena, who leaped toward him with upraised ax +swung high. In the excitement of the moment, the man had not noted her +approach. With a swift movement he succeeded in forcing the body of +the girl between himself and the up-raised blade. + +With a shrill cry of rage Lena dropped the ax and rushed to a grip. +Sounded then a sickening thud, and the huge woman pitched face downward +into the snow, while behind her one of Lapierre's outlaws tossed a +heavy club into the bush and rushed to the assistance of his chief. +The others came, and with incredible rapidity Chloe Elliston was gagged +and bound hand and foot, and the men were carrying her to the waiting +sled. + +For a moment Lapierre hesitated, gazing longingly toward the cottage as +he debated in his mind the advisability of rushing across the clearing +and settling his score with Mary, the Louchoux girl, whose unexpected +appearance had turned the tide so strongly against him. + +"Better let well enough alone!" he growled savagely. "I must reach Lac +du Mort ahead of MacNair." And he turned with a curse from the +clearing to see an outlaw, with knife unsheathed, stooping over the +unconscious form of Big Lena. The quarter-breed kicked the knife from +the man's hand. + +"Bring her along!" he ordered gruffly. "I will attend to her later." +And, despite the hurt of his bruised fingers, the man grinned as he +noted the venomous gleam in the leader's eye. For not only was +Lapierre thinking of the proselyting of LeFroy, who had been his most +trusted lieutenant, but of his own disarming, and the meaning stare of +the fishlike eyes that had prompted him to abandon his attempt to +poison MacNair when wounded in Chloe Elusion's room. + + +It was yet early when, as had become her custom, the Louchoux girl +dressed hurriedly and made her way to the kitchen to help Lena in the +preparation of breakfast. To her surprise she found that the fire had +not been lighted nor was Big Lena in the little room which had been +built for her adjoining the kitchen. + +The quick eyes of the girl noted that the bed had not been disturbed, +and with a sudden fear in her heart she dashed to the door of Chloe's +room, where, receiving no answer to her frantic knocking, she pushed +open the door and entered. Chloe's bed had not been slept in, and her +_parka_ was missing from its peg upon the wall. + +As the Indian girl turned from the room, Harriet Penny's door opened, +and she caught a glimpse of a night-capped head as the little spinster +glanced timidly out to inquire into the unusual disturbance. + +"Where have they gone?" cried the girl. + +"Gone? Gone?" asked Miss Penny. "What do you mean? Who has gone?" + +"She's gone--Miss Elliston--and Big Lena, too. They have not slept in +their beds." + +It took a half-minute for this bit of information to percolate Miss +Penny's understanding, and when it did she uttered a shrill scream, +banged her door, turned the key, and shot the bolt upon the inside. + +Alone in the living-room, the last words Chloe had spoken to her +flashed through the Indian girl's mind: "I can trust you to place this +in MacNair's hands." + +Without a second thought for Miss Penny, she rushed into her room, +recovered the letter from its hiding-place beneath the pillow, thrust +it into the bosom of her gown, and hastily prepared for the trail. + +In the kitchen she made up a light pack of provisions, and, with no +other thought than to find MacNair, opened the door and stepped out +into the keen, frosty air. The girl knew only that Snare Lake lay +somewhere up the river, but this gave her little concern, as no snow +had fallen since MacNair had departed with his Indians a week before, +and she knew his trail would be plain. + +From her window Harriet Penny watched the departure of the girl, and +before she was half-way across the clearing the little woman appeared +in the doorway, commanding, begging, pleading in shrill falsetto, not +to be left alone. Hearing the cries, the girl quickened her pace, and +without so much as a backward glance passed swiftly down the steep +slope to the river. + +Born to the snow-trail, the Louchoux girl made good time. During the +month she had spent at Chloe's school she had for the first time in her +life been sufficiently clothed and fed, and now with the young muscles +of her body well nourished and in the pink of condition she fairly flew +over the trail. + +Hour after hour she kept up the pace without halting. She passed the +mouth of the small tributary upon which she had first seen Chloe. The +place conjured vivid memories of the white woman and all she had done +for her and meant to her--memories that served as a continual spur to +her flying feet. It was well toward noon when, upon rounding a sharp +bend, she came suddenly face to face with the Indians and the dog-teams +that MacNair had despatched for provisions. + +She bounded among them like a flash, singled out Wee Johnnie Tamarack, +and proceeded to deluge the old man with an avalanche of words. When +finally she paused for sheer lack of breath, the old Indian, who had +understood but the smallest fragment of what she had said, remained +obviously unimpressed. Whereupon the girl produced the letter, which +she waved before his face, accompanying the act with another tirade of +words of which the Indian understood less than he had of the previous +outburst. + +Wee Johnnie Tamarack took his orders only from MacNair. MacNair had +said, "Go to the school for provisions," and to the school he must go. +Nevertheless, the sight of the letter impressed him. For in the +Northland His Majesty's mail is held sacred and must be carried to its +destination, though the heavens fall. + +To the mind of Wee Johnnie Tamarack a letter was "mail," and the fact +that its status might be altered by the absence of His Majesty's stamp +upon its corner was an affair beyond the old man's comprehension. + +Therefore he ordered the other Indians to continue their journey, and, +motioning the girl to a place on the sled, headed his dogs northward +and sent them skimming over the back-trail. + +Wee Johnnie Tamarack was counted one of the best dog-mushers in the +North, and as the girl had succeeded in implanting in the old man's +mind an urgent need of haste, he exerted his talent to the utmost. +Mile after mile, behind the flying feet of the tireless _malamutes_, +the sled-runners slipped smoothly over the crust of the ice-hard snow. + +And at midnight of the second day they dashed across the smooth surface +of the lake and brought up with a rush before the door of MacNair's own +cabin, which luckily had been spared by the flames. + +It was a record drive, for a "two-man" load--that drive of Wee Johnnie +Tamarack's, having clipped twelve hours from a thirty-six-hour trail. + +MacNair's door flew open to their frantic pounding. The girl thrust +the letter into his hand, and with a supreme effort told what she knew +of the disappearance of Chloe and Big Lena. Whereupon, she threw +herself at full length upon the floor and immediately sank into a +profound sleep. + +MacNair fumbled upon the shelf for a candle and, lighting it, seated +himself beside the table, and tore the envelope from the letter. Never +in his life had the man read words penned by the hand of a woman. The +fingers that held the letter trembled, and he wondered at the wild +beating of his heart. + +The story of the Louchoux girl had aroused in him a sudden fear. He +wondered vaguely that the disappearance of Chloe Elliston could have +caused the dull hurt in his breast. The pages in his hand were like no +letter he had ever received. There was something +personal--intimate--about them. His huge fingers gripped them lightly, +and he turned them over and over in his hand, gazing almost in awe upon +the bold, angular writing. Then, very slowly, he began to read the +words. + +Unconsciously, he read them aloud, and as he read a strange lump arose +in his throat so that his voice became husky and the words faltered. +He read the letter through to the end. He leaped to his feet and +strode rapidly up and down the room, his fists clenched and his breath +coming in great gasps. + +Bob MacNair was fighting. Fighting against an irresistible impulse--an +impulse as new and strange to him as though born of another world--an +impulse to find Chloe Elliston, to take her in his arms, and to crush +her close against his wildly pounding heart. + +Minutes passed as the man strode up and down the length of the little +room, and then once more he seated himself at the table and read the +letter through. + + +"DEAR MR. MACNAIR: + +"I cannot leave the North without this little word to you. I have +learned many things since I last saw you--things I should have learned +long ago. You were right about the Indians, about Lapierre, about +_me_. I know now that I have been a fool. Lapierre always removed his +hat in my presence, therefore he was a gentleman! Oh, what a fool I +was! + +"I will not attempt to apologize. I have been too _nasty_, and +_hateful_, and _mean_ for any apology. You said once that some day we +should be friends. I am reminding you of this because I want you to +think of me as a friend. Wherever I may be, I will think of +you--always. Of the splendid courage of the man who, surrounded by +treachery and intrigue and the vicious attacks of the powers that prey, +dares to stand upon his convictions and to fight alone for the good of +the North--for the cause of those who will never be able to fight for +themselves. + +"It will not be necessary to tell you that I shall go straight to the +headquarters of the Mounted and withdraw my charge against you. I have +heard of your lawless raids into the far North; I think they are +_splendid_! Keep the good work up! Shoot as straight as you can--as +straight as you shot that night on Snare Lake. I should love to stand +at your side and shoot, too. But that can never be. + +"Just a word more. Lena is going to marry LeFroy; and, knowing Lena as +I do, I think his reformation is assured. I am leaving everything to +them. The contents of the storehouse will set them up as independent +traders. + +"And now farewell. I want you to have my most valued possession, the +portrait of my grandfather, Tiger Elliston, the man I have always +admired more than any other until----" + + +Until what? wondered MacNair. The word had been crossed out, and he +finished the letter still wondering. + + +"When you look at the picture in its splintered frame, think sometimes +of the 'fool moose-calf,' who, having succeeded by the narrowest margin +in eluding the fangs of 'the wolf' is returning, wiser, to its +mountains. + +"Yours very truly--and very, very repentantly, + +"CHLOE ELLISTON." + + +Bob MacNair lost his fight. He arose once more, his great frame +trembling in the grip of a new thrill. He stretched his great arms to +the southward in a silent sign of surrender. He sought not to dodge +the issue, strange and wonderful as it seemed to him. He loved this +woman--loved her as he knew he could love no other--as he had never +dreamed it was in the heart of man to love. + +And then, with the force of a blow, came the realization that this +woman--his woman--was at that very instant, in all probability, at the +mercy of a fiend who would stop at nothing to gain his own ends. + +He leaped to the door. + +"By God, I'll tear his heart out!" he roared as he wrenched at the +latch. And the next instant the shores of Snare Lake echoed to the +wild weird sound of the wolf-cry--the call of MacNair to his clan! +Other calls and other summons might be ignored upon provocation, but +when the terrible wolf-cry shattered the silence of the forest +MacNair's Indians rushed to his side. + +Only death itself could deter them from fore-gathering at the sound of +the wolf-cry. Before the echoes of MacNair's voice had died away dark +forms were speeding through the moonlight. From all directions they +came; from the cabins that yet remained standing, from the tents +pitched close against the unburned walls of the stockade, from rude +wickiups of skins and of brushwood. + +Old men and young men they answered the call, and each in his hand bore +a rifle. MacNair snapped a few quick orders. Men rushed to harness +the dog-teams while others provisioned the sleds for the trail. + +With one arm MacNair swung the Louchoux girl from the floor, and, +picking up his rifle, dashed out into the night. + +Wee Johnnie Tamarack, just in from a twenty-four-hour trail, stood at +the head of MacNair's own dogs--the seven great Athabasca River dogs +that had carried him into the North. With a cry to his Indians to +follow and to bring the Louchoux girl, MacNair threw himself belly-wise +onto his sled, gave voice to a weird cry as his dogs shot out across +the white snow-level of Snare Lake, and headed south-ward toward the +Yellow Knife. + +He laughed aloud as he glanced over the back-trail and noted that half +of his Indians were already following. He had chosen that last cry +well. Never before had the Indians heard it from the white man's lips, +and they thrilled at the sound to the marrow. The blood surged through +the veins of the wild men as it had not surged in long decades. _It +was the war-cry of the Yellow Knives_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE BATTLE + +Bob MacNair's sled seemed scarcely to touch the hard surface of the +snow. The great _malemutes_ ran low and true over the well-defined +trail. He had selected the dogs with an eye to speed and endurance at +the time he had headed northward with Corporal Ripley after his release +from the Fort Saskatchewan jail. + +The shouts of the following Indians died away. Familiar landmarks +leaped past, and save for an occasional word of encouragement MacNair +let the dogs set their own pace. For, consumed as he was by anxiety +for what might lie at the end of the trail, he knew that the homing +instinct of the wolf-dogs would carry them more miles and in better +heart than the sting of his long gut-lash. + +At daylight the man halted for a half-hour, fed his dogs, and boiled +tea, which he drank in great gulps, hot and black, from the rim of the +pot. At noon one of the dogs showed signs of distress, and MacNair cut +him loose, leaving him to follow as best as he could. When darkness +fell only three dogs remained in harness, and these showed plainly the +effects of the long trail-strain. While behind, somewhere upon the +wide stretch of the Yellow Knife, the other four limped painfully in +the wake of their stronger team-mates. + +An hour passed, during which the pace slackened perceptibly, and then +with only ten miles to go, two more dogs laid down. Pausing only to +cut them free from the harness, MacNair continued the trail on foot. +The hard-packed surface of the snow made the rackets unnecessary, and +the man struck into a long, swinging trot--the stride of an Indian +runner. + +Mile after mile slipped by as the huge muscles of him, tireless as +bands of steel, flexed and sprung with the regularity of clockworks. +The rising moon was just topping the eastern pines as he dashed up the +steep bank of the clearing. For a moment he halted as his glance swept +the familiar outlines of the log buildings, standing black and +clean-cut and sombre in the light of the rising moon. + +MacNair drew a deep breath, and the next moment the long wolf-cry +boomed out over the silent snow. As if by magic, the clearing sprang +into life. Lights shone from the barrack windows and from the windows +of the cabins beyond; doors banged. The white snow of the clearing was +dotted with swift-moving forms as men, women, and children answered the +clan-call of MacNair, shouting to one another as they ran, in hoarse, +deep gutturals. + +In an instant MacNair singled out Old Elk from among the crowding forms. + +"What's happened here?" he cried. "Where is the white _kloochman_?" + +Old Elk had taken charge of the thirty Indians MacNair had despatched +for provisions, and immediately upon learning from the lips of the +Indian women of Chloe's disappearance he had left the loading of the +sleds to the others while he worked out the signs in the snow. Thus at +MacNair's question the old Indian motioned him to follow, and, starting +at the door of the cottage, he traced Chloe's trail to the banskian, +and there in a few words and much silent pantomime he explained without +doubt or hesitation exactly what had taken place from the moment of +Chloe's departure from the cottage until she was carried, bound and +gagged and placed upon Lapierre's waiting sled. + +As MacNair followed the old Indian's story his fists clenched, his eyes +hardened to points, and the breath whistled through his nostrils in +white plumes of frost-steam. + +Old Elk finished and, pointing eloquently in the direction of Lac du +Mort, asked eagerly: + +"You follow de trail of Lapierre?" + +MacNair nodded, and before he could reply the Indian stepped close to +his side and placed a withered hand upon his arm. + +"Me, I'm lak' y'u fadder," he said; "y'u lak' my own son. Y'u follow +de trail of Lapierre. Y'u tak' de white _kloochman_ away from +Lapierre, an' den, by gar, when y'u got her y'u ke'p her. Dat +_kloochman_, him damn fine 'oman!" + +Realizing his worst fears were verified, MacNair immediately set about +preparations for the attack on Lapierre's stronghold. All night he +superintended the breaking out of supplies in the storehouse and the +loading of sleds for the trail, and at the first streak of dawn the +vanguard of Indians who had followed him from Snare Lake swarmed up the +bank from the river. + +MacNair selected the freshest and strongest of these, and with the +thirty who were already at the school, struck into the timber with +sleds loaded light for a quick dash, leaving the heavier impedimenta to +follow in care of the women and those who were yet to arrive from Snare +Lake. + +The fact that MacNair had made use of the wolf-cry to call them +together, his set face, and terse, quick commands told the Indians that +this was no ordinary expedition, and the eyes of the men glowed with +anticipation. The long-promised--the inevitable battle was at hand. +The time had come for ridding the North of Lapierre. And the fight +would be a fight to the death. + +It took three days for MacNair's flying squadron to reach the fort at +Lac du Mort. By the many columns of smoke that arose from the surface +of the little plateau, he knew that the men of Lapierre waited the +attack in force. MacNair led his Indians across the lake and into the +black spruce swamp. A half-dozen scouts were sent out to surround the +plateau, with orders to report immediately anything of importance. + +Old Elk was detailed to follow the trail of Lapierre's sled to the very +walls of the stockade. For well MacNair knew that the crafty +quarter-breed was quite capable of side-stepping the obvious and +carrying the girl to some rendezvous unknown to any one but himself. +The remaining Indians he set to work felling trees for a small stockade +which would serve as a defence against a surprise attack. Saplings +were also felled for light ladders to be used in the scaling of +Lapierre's walls. + +Evening saw the completion of a substantial five-foot barricade, and +soon after dark Old Elk appeared with the information that both Chloe +and Big Lena, as well as Lapierre himself, were within the confines of +the Bastile du Mort. The man also proudly displayed a bleeding scalp +which he had ripped from the head of one of Lapierre's scouts who had +blundered upon the old man as he lay concealed behind a snow-covered +log. The sight of the grewsome trophy with its long black hair and +blood-dripping flesh excited the Indians to a fever pitch. The scalp +was placed upon a pole driven into the snow in the centre of the little +stockade. And for hours the Indians danced about it, rendering the +night hideous with the wild chants and wails of their weird +incantations. + +As the night advanced and the incantations increased in violence, +MacNair arose from the robe he had spread beside his camp-fire, and +drawing away from the wild savagery of the scene, stole alone out into +the dense blackness of the swamp and detouring to the shore of the +lake, seated himself upon an uprooted tree-butt. + +An hour passed as he sat thinking--staring into the dark. The moon +rose and illumined with soft radiance the indomitable land of the raw. +MacNair's gaze roved from the forbidding blackness of the farther +shore-line, across the dead, cold snow-level of the ice-locked lake, to +the bold headlands that rose sheer upon his right and upon his left. +The scene was one of unbending _hardness_--of nature's frowning +defiance of man. The soft touch of the moonlight jarred upon his mood. +Death lurked in the shadows--and death, and worse than death, awaited +the dawning of the day. It was a _hard_ land--the North--having naught +to do with beauty and the soft brilliance of moonlight. He glanced +toward the jutting rock-ribbed plateau that was Lapierre's stronghold. +Out of the night--out of the intense blackness of the spruce-guarded +dark came the wailing howl of the savage scalp-dance. + +"The real spirit of the North," he murmured bitterly. He arose to his +feet, and, with his eyes fixed upon the bold headland of the little +plateau, stretched his great arms toward the spot that concealed the +woman he loved--and then he turned and passed swiftly into the +blackness of the forest. + +But despite the frenzy of the blood-lust, at no time were the Indians +out of MacNair's control, and when he ordered quiet, the incantations +ceased at the word and they sought their blankets to dream eagerly of +the morrow. + +Morning came, and long before sunrise a thin line of men, women, and +heavily laden dog-sleds put out from the farther shore of the lake and +headed for the black spruce swamp. The clan of MacNair was gathering +to the call of the wolf. + +The newcomers were conducted to the log stockade where the women were +left to store the provisions, while MacNair called a council of his +fighting men and laid out his plan of attack. He glanced with pride +into the eager faces of the men who would die for him. He counted +eighty-seven men under arms, thirty of whom were armed with Lapierre's +Mausers. + +The position of the quarter-breed's fort admitted only one plan of +attack--to rush the barricade that stretched across the neck of the +little peninsula. MacNair longed for action. He chafed with +impatience to strike the blow that would crush forever the power of +Lapierre, yet he found himself wholly at the mercy of Lapierre. For +somewhere behind that barrier of logs was the woman he loved. He +shuddered at the thought. He knew Lapierre. Knew that the man's white +blood and his education, instead of civilizing, had served to heighten +and to refine the barbaric cruelty and savagery of his heart. He knew +that Lapierre would stop at nothing to gain an end. His heart chilled +at the possibilities. He dreaded to act--yet he knew that he must act. + +He dismissed the idea of a siege. A quick, fierce assault--an attack +that should have no lull, nor armistice until his Indians had scaled +the stockade, was preferable to the heart-breaking delay of a siege. +MacNair decided to launch his attack with so fierce an onslaught that +Lapierre would have no time to think of the girl. But if worse came to +worst, and he did think of her, what he would do he would be forced to +do quickly. + +Grimly, MacNair led his warriors to the attack, and as the lean-faced +horde moved silently through the timbered aisles of the swamp, the +sound of scattering shots was borne to their ears as the scouts +exchanged bullets with Lapierre's sentries. + +A cleared space, thirty yards in width, separated the forest from the +barricade, and with this clearing in sight, in the shelter of the +snow-laden spruces, MacNair called a halt, and in a brief address gave +his Indians their final instructions. In their own tongue he addressed +them, falling naturally into the oratorical swing of the council fire. + +"The time has come, my people, as I have told you it must sometime +come, for the final reckoning with Lapierre. Not because the man has +sought my life, am I fighting him. I would not call upon you to risk +your lives to protect mine; not to avenge the burning of my storehouse, +nor yet, because he dug my gold. I am fighting him because he has +struck at your homes, and the homes of your wives and your children. +You are my people, and your interests are my interests. + +"I have not preached to you, as do the good fathers at the Mission, of +a life in a world to come. Of that I know nothing. It is this +life--the daily life we are living now, with which I have to do. I +have taught you to work with your hands, because he who works is better +clothed, and better fed, and better housed than he who does not work. +I have commanded you not to drink the white man's fire-water, not +because it is wrong to be drunken. A man's life is his own. He may do +with it as he pleases. But a man who is drunk is neither well nor +happy. He will not work. He sees his women and his children suffering +and in want, and he does not care. He beats them and drives them into +the cold. He is no longer a man, but a brute, meaner and more to be +despised than the wolf--for a wolf feeds his young. Therefore, I have +commanded you to drink no fire-water. + +"I have not made you learn from books; for books are things of the +white men. In books men have written many things; but in no book is +anything written that will put warmer clothes upon your backs, or more +meat in your _caches_. The white _kloochman_ came among you with +books. Her heart is good and she is a friend of the Indians, but all +her life has she lived in the land of the white men. And from books, +the white men learn to gather their meat and their clothing. +Therefore, she thought that the Indians also should learn from books. + +"But the white _kloochman_ has learned now the needs of the North. At +first I feared she would not learn that it is the work of the hands +that counts. When I knew she had learned I sent you to her, for there +are many things she can teach you, and especially your women and +children, of which I know nothing. + +"The white _kloochman_, your good friend, has fallen into the hands of +Lapierre. We are men, and we must take her from Lapierre. And now the +time has come to fight! You are fighting men and the children of +fighting men! When this fight is over there will be peace in the +Northland! It will be the last fight for many of us--for many of us +must die! Lapierre's men are well armed. They will fight hard, for +they know it is their last stand. Kill them as long as they continue +to fight, but _do not kill Lapierre_!" + +His eyes flashed dangerously as he paused to glance into the faces of +his fighters. + +"No man shall kill Lapierre!" he repeated. "He is _mine_! With my own +hands will I settle the score; and now listen well to the final word: + +"Drag the ladders to the edge of the clearing, scatter along the whole +front in the shelter of the trees, and at the call of the hoot-owl you +shall commence firing. Shoot whenever one of Lapierre's men shows +himself. But remain well concealed, for the men of Lapierre will be +entrenched behind the loop-holes. At the call of the loon you shall +cease firing." + +MacNair rapidly tolled out twenty who were to man the ladders. + +"At the call of the wolf, rush to the stockade with the ladders, and +those who have guns shall follow. Then up the ladders and over the +walls! After that, fight, every man for himself, but mind you well, +that you take Lapierre alive, for Lapierre is mine!" + +The laddermen stationed themselves at the edge of the timber, and the +men who carried guns scattered along the whole width of the clearing. +Then from the depths of the forest suddenly boomed the cry of the +hoot-owl. Heads appeared over the edge of Lapierre's stockade, and +from the shelter of the black spruce swamp came the crash of rifles. +The heads disappeared, and of Lapierre's men many tumbled backward into +the snow, while others crouched upon the firing ledge which Lapierre +had constructed near the top of his log stockade and answered the +volley, shooting at random into the timber. But only as a man's head +appeared, or as his body showed between the spaces of the logs, were +their shots returned. MacNair's Indians were biding their time. + +For an hour this ineffectual and abortive sniping kept up, and then +from the walls of the stockade appeared that for which MacNair had been +waiting--a white flag fluttering from the end of a sapling. Raising +his head, MacNair imitated the call of the loon, and the firing ceased +in the timber. Having no white rag, MacNair waved a spruce bough and +stepped boldly out into the clearing. + +The head and shoulders of Lapierre appeared above the wall of the +barricade, and for several moments the two faced each other in silence. +MacNair grim, determined, scowling--Lapierre defiant, crafty, with his +thin lips twisted into a mocking smile. The quarter-breed was the +first to speak. + +"So," he drawled, "my good friend has come to visit his neighbour! +Come right in, I assure you a hearty welcome, but you must come alone! +Your retainers are too numerous and entirely too _bourgeois_ to eat at +a gentleman's table." + +"But not to drink from his bottle," retorted MacNair. "I am coming +in--but not alone!" + +Lapierre laughed derisively. "O-ho, you would come by force--by force +of arms, eh! Well, come along, but I warn you, you do so at your +peril. My men are all armed, and the walls are thick and high. +Rather, I choose to think you will listen to reason." + +"Reason!" roared MacNair. "I will reason with you when we come to +hands' grips!" + +Lapierre shrugged. "As you please," he answered: "I was only thinking +of your own welfare, and, perhaps, of the welfare of another, who will +to a certainty fare badly in case your savages attack us. I myself am +not of brutal nature, but among my men are some who--" He paused and +glanced significantly into MacNair's eyes. Again he shrugged--"We will +not dwell upon the possibilities, but here is the lady, let her speak +for herself. She has begged for the chance to say a word in her own +behalf. I will only add that you will find me amenable to reason. It +is possible that our little differences may be settled in a manner +satisfactory to all, and without bloodshed." + +The man stepped aside upon the firing ledge, evidently in order to let +someone pass up the ladder. The next instant the face of Chloe +Elliston appeared above the logs of the stockade. At the sight of the +girl MacNair felt the blood surge through his veins. He took a quick +step toward and at a glance noted the unwonted pallor of her cheeks, +the flashing eyes, and the curve of the out-thrust chin. + +Then clear and firm her voice sounded in his ears. He strained forward +to catch the words, and at that moment he knew in his heart that this +woman meant more to him than life itself--more than revenge--more even +than the welfare of his Indians. + +"You received my letter?" asked the girl eagerly. "Can you forgive me? +Do you understand?" + +MacNair answered, controlling his voice with difficulty. "There is +nothing to forgive. I have understood you all along." + +"You will promise to grant one request--for my sake?" + +Without hesitation came the man's answer; "Anything you ask." + +"On your soul, will you promise, and will you keep that promise +regardless of consequences?" + +"I promise," answered the man, and his voice rang harsh. For revenge +upon Lapierre with his own hands had been the dearest hope of his life. +At the next words of the girl, an icy hand seemed clutching at his +heart. + +"Then fight!" she cried. "Fight! Fight! Fight! Shoot! And cut! +And batter! And kill! Until you have ridded the North of this fiend!" + +With a snarl, Lapierre leaped toward the girl with arm upraised. There +was a chorus of hoarse cries from behind the walls. Before the +uplifted arm could descend the figure of Lapierre disappeared with +startling suddenness. The next instant the gigantic form of Big Lena +appeared, head and shoulders above the walls of the stockade at the +point where Lapierre had been. The huge shoulders stooped, the form of +Chloe Elliston arose as on air, shot over the wall, and dropped into a +crumpled heap upon the snow at its base. The face of Big Lena framed +by flying strands of flaxen hair appeared for a moment above the wall, +and then the sound of a shot rang sharp and clear. The face +disappeared, and from beyond the wall came the muffled thud of a heavy +body striking the snow. + +A dark head appeared above the walls at the point near where the girl +had fallen, and an arm was thrust over the logs. MacNair caught the +glint of a blue-black barrel. Like a flash he drew his automatic and +fired. The revolver dropped from the top of the wall to the snow, and +the hand that held it gripped frantically at the logs and disappeared. + +MacNair threw back his head, and loud and clear on the frosty air +blared the call of the wolf. The whole line of the forest spit flame. +The crash and roar of a hundred guns was in the air as the men from +behind the barricade replied. Lithe forms carrying ladders dashed +across the open space. Many pitched forward before the wall and lay +doubled grotesquely upon the white strip of snow, while eager hands +carried the ladders on. + +Suddenly, above the crash of the guns sounded the war-cry of the Yellow +Knives. The whole clearing sprang alive with men, yelling like fiends +and firing as they ran. Dark forms swarmed up the ladders and over the +walls. MacNair grabbed the rungs of a ladder and drew himself up. +Above him climbed the Indian who had carried the ladder. He had no +gun, but the grey blade of a long knife flashed wickedly between his +teeth. + +The Indian crashed backward, carrying MacNair with him into the snow. +MacNair struggled to his feet. The Indian lay almost at the foot of +the ladder, and, gurgling horribly, rose to his knees. MacNair glanced +into his face. The man's eyes were rolled backward until only the +whites showed. His lips moved, and he clung to the rungs of the +ladder. Blood splashed down his front and reddened the trampled snow, +then he fell heavily backward, and MacNair saw that his whole throat +had been shot away by the close fired charge of a shotgun. + +With a roar, MacNair scrambled up the ladder, automatic in hand. On +the firing ledge's narrow rim a riverman snapped together the breech of +his shotgun, and looked up--his face close to the face of MacNair. And +as he looked his jaw sagged in terror. MacNair jammed the barrel of +the automatic into the open mouth and fired. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE GUN-BRAND + +Chloe Elliston lay in the snow, partially stunned by her fall from the +top of the stockade. She was not unconscious--her hearing and vision +were unimpaired, but her numbed brain did not grasp the significance of +the sights and sounds which her senses recorded. She wondered vaguely +how it happened she was lying there in the snow when she distinctly +remembered that she was standing upon the narrow firing ledge urging +MacNair to fight. There was MacNair now! She could see him +distinctly. Even as she looked the man drew his pistol and fired. +Something struck the snow almost within reach of her hand. It was a +revolver. Chloe glanced upward, but saw only the log wall of the +stockade which seemed to tower upward until it touched the sky. + +A blood-curdling cry rang out upon the air--a sound she had heard of +nights echoing among rock-rimmed ridges--the pack-cry of the +wolf-breed. She shuddered at the nearness of the sound and turned, +expecting to encounter the red throat and slavering jaws of the +fang-bared leader of the pack, and instead she saw only MacNair. + +Then along the wall of the forest came thin grey puffs of smoke, and +her ears rang with the crash of the rifle-volley. She heard the wicked +spit and thud of the bullets as they ripped at the logs above her, and +tiny slivers of bark made black spots upon the snow. A piece fell upon +her face, she brushed it away with her hand. The sounds of the shots +increased ten fold. Answering spurts of grey smoke jutted from the +walls above her. The loop-holes bristled with rifle-barrels! + +In her nostrils was the rank smell of powder-smoke, and across the +clearing, straight toward her, dashed many men with ladders. A man +fell almost at her side, his ladder, tilting against the wall, slipped +sidewise into the snow, crashing against one of the protruding +rifle-barrels as it fell. Two other men came, and uprighting the +ladder, climbed swiftly up the wall. Chloe saw that they were +MacNair's Indians. + +The scene changed with lightning rapidity. Men with rifles were in the +clearing, now running and shooting, and falling down to remain +motionless in the snow. Above the uproar of the guns a new sound +rolled and swelled. An eery, blood-curdling sound that chilled the +heart and caused the roots of her hair to prickle along the base of her +skull. It was the war-cry of the Yellow Knives as they fired, and ran, +and clambered up the ladders, + +The sights and sounds were clean-cut, distinct, intensely +thrilling--but impersonal, like the shifting scenes of a photo-play. +She glanced about for MacNair. Her eyes travelled swiftly from face to +swarthy face of the men who charged out of the timber. She directed +her glance toward the wall, and there, not twenty feet away, she saw +him reach for the rungs of the ladder. And the next moment two forms +crashed backward into the snow. For an instant the girl closed her +eyes, and in that instant her brain awoke with a start. About her the +sounds leaped into terrible significance. She realized that she was +outside the walls of the stockade. That the sights and sounds about +her were intensely real. + +The forces of MacNair and Lapierre had locked horns in the final +struggle, and her fate, and the fate of the whole North, hung in the +balance. All about her were the hideous sounds of battle. She was +surprised that she was unafraid; instead, the blood seemed coursing +through her veins with the heat of flame. Her heart seemed bursting +with a wild, fierce joy. Something of which she had always been dimly +conscious--some latent thing which she had always held in check--seemed +suddenly to burst within her. A flood of fancies crowded her brain. +The wicked crack of the rifles became the roar of cannon. Tall masts, +to which clung shot-torn shrouds, reared high above a fog of +powder-smoke, and beyond waved the tops of palm-trees. The spirit of +Tiger Elliston had burst its bounds! + +With a cry like the scream of a beast, the girl leaped to her feet. +She tore the heavy mittens from her hands, and reached for the revolver +which lay in the snow at her side. She leaped toward MacNair who had +regained his feet, red with the life-blood of the Indian who lay upon +his back in the snow, staring upward wide-eyed, unseeing, throatless. +She called loudly, but her voice was lost in the mighty uproar, and +MacNair sprang up the ladder. + +Like a flash Chloe followed, holding her heavy revolver as he had held +his. She glanced upward; MacNair had disappeared over the edge of the +stockade. The next instant she, too, had reached the top. She paused, +looking downward. MacNair was scrambling to his feet. Ten feet away a +man levelled a gun at him. He fired from his knee, and the man pitched +forward. Upon him, from behind, rushed two men swinging their rifles +high. They had almost reached him when Chloe fired straight down. The +nearest man dropped his rifle and staggered against the wall. The +other paused and glanced upward. Chloe shot squarely into his face. +The bullet ripped downward, splitting his jaw. The man rushed +screaming over the snow, tearing with both hands at the wound. + +MacNair was upon his feet now. Beyond him the fighting was hand to +hand. With clubbed guns and axes, Lapierre's men were meeting the +Indians who swarmed over the walls. Once more the wild wolf-cry rang +in the girl's ears as MacNair leaped into the thick of the fight. The +girl became conscious that someone was pounding at her feet. She +glanced downward. Two Indians were upon the ladder waiting to get over +the wall. Without hesitation she tightened her grip upon her revolver +and leaped into the stockade. She sprawled awkwardly in the snow. She +felt her shoulder seized viciously. Someone was jerking her to her +feet. She looked up and encountered the gleaming eyes of Lapierre. + +Chloe tried to raise her revolver, but Lapierre kicked it from her +hand. There was the sound of a heavy impact. Lapierre's hand was +jerked from her shoulder; he was hurled backward, cursing, into the +snow. One of the Indians who had followed Chloe up the ladder had +leaped squarely upon the quarter-breed's shoulders. Like a flash +Lapierre drew his automatic, but the Indian threw himself upon the gun +and tore it from his grasp. Then he scrambled to his feet. Lapierre, +too, was upon his feet in an instant. + +"Shoot, you fool! Kill him! Kill him!" cried Chloe. + +But the Indian continued to stare stupidly, and Lapierre dashed to +safety around the corner of his storehouse. + +"MacNair say no kill," said the Indian gravely. + +"Not kill!" cried the girl. "He is crazy! What is he thinking of?" +But the Indian was already out of ear-shot. Chloe glanced about her +for her revolver. An evil-faced half-breed, dragging his body from the +hips, pulled himself toward it, hunching along with his bare hands +digging into the crust of the snow. The girl reached it a second +before him. The man cursed her shrilly and sank into the snow, crying +aloud like a child. + +Suddenly Chloe realized that the battle had surged beyond her. Shots +and hoarse cries arose from the scrub beyond the storehouse, while all +about her, in the trampled snow, wounded men cursed and prayed, and +dead men froze in the slush of their own heart's blood. The girl +followed into the scrub, and to her surprise came face to face with the +Louchoux girl, who was carrying armfuls of dry brushwood, which she +piled against the corner of the storehouse. + +Chloe glanced into the black eyes that glowed like living coals. The +Indian girl added her armful to the pile and, drawing matches from her +pocket, dropped to her knees in the snow. She pointed toward the log +storehouse. + +"Lapierre ran inside," she said. + +With a wild laugh Chloe passed on. The scrub thinned toward the point +of the peninsula, where the rim-rocks rose sheer two hundred feet above +the level of the lake. Chloe caught sight of MacNair's Indians leaping +before her, and, beyond, the crowding knot of men who gave ground +before the rush of the Yellow Knives. One by one the men dropped, +writhing, into the snow. The others gave ground rapidly, shooting at +their advancing enemies, cursing, crowding--but always giving ground. + +At last they were upon the rim-rocks, huddled together like cattle. +Chloe could see them outlined distinctly against the sky. They fired +one last scattering volley, and then the ranks thinned suddenly; many +were leaping over the edge, while others, throwing down their rifles, +advanced with arms raised high above their heads. Some Indians fired, +and two of these pitched forward. Then MacNair bellowed a hoarse +order, and the firing ceased, and the Indians bound the prisoners with +thongs of _babiche_. + +The girl found herself close to the edge of the high plateau. She +leaned far over and peered downward. Upon the white snow of the rocks, +close to the foot of the cliff, lay several dark forms. She drew back +and turned to MacNair, but he had gone. A puff of smoke arose into the +air above the tops of the scrub-trees, and Chloe knew that the +storehouse was burning. The smoke increased in volume and rolled +heavily skyward upon the light breeze. She could hear the crackle of +flames, and the smell of burning spruce was in the air. + +She pushed forward into the cordon of Indians which surrounded the +burning building, glancing hurriedly from face to face, searching for +MacNair. Upon the edge of the little clearing which surrounded the +storehouse she saw the Louchoux girl bending over a form that lay +stretched in the snow. Swiftly she made her way to the girl's side. +She was bending over the inert form of Big Lena. The big woman opened +her eyes, and with a cry Chloe dropped to her knees by her side. + +"Ay ain't hurt much," Lena muttered weakly. "Vun faller shoot me on de +head, but de bullet yump off sidevays. Ju bet MacNair, he gif dem +haal!" + +At the mention of MacNair's name Chloe sprang to her feet and continued +along the cordon. + +One end of the storehouse and half the roof was ablaze, while thick, +heavy smoke curled from beneath the full length of the eaves and +through the chinkings of the logs. Chloe had almost completed the +circle when suddenly she came to a halt, for there, pressed tight +against the logs close beside the jamb of the closed door, stood +MacNair. All about her the Indians stood in tense expectancy. Their +eyes gleamed bright, and the breath hissed between parted lips--short, +quick breaths of excitement. The flames had not yet reached the front +of the storehouse, but tiny puffs of smoke found their way out above +the door. As she looked the form of MacNair stiffened, and Chloe +gasped as she saw that the man was unarmed. + +Suddenly the door flew open, and Lapierre, clutching an automatic in +either hand, leaped swiftly into the open. The next instant his arms +were pinioned to his sides. A loud cry went up from the watching +Indians, and from all quarters came the sound of rushing feet as those +who had guarded the windows crowded about. + +Lapierre was no weakling. He strained and writhed to free himself from +the encircling arms. But the arms were bands of steel, clamping +tighter and tighter about him. Slowly MacNair worked his hand downward +to the other's wrist. There was a lightning-like jerk, and the +automatic flew into the air and dropped harmless into the snow. The +same instant MacNair's grasp tightened about the other wrist. He +released Lapierre's disarmed hand and, reaching swiftly, tore the other +gun from the man's fingers. + +Lapierre swung at his face, but MacNair leaned suddenly backward and +outward, still grasping the wrist, Lapierre's body described a short +half-circle, and he brought up with a thud against a nearby pile of +stove-wood. Releasing his grip, MacNair crowded him close and closer +against the wood-pile which rose waist high out of the snow. Slowly +Lapierre bent backward, forced by the heavier body of MacNair. MacNair +released his grip on the other's wrist, but his right hand still held +Lapierre's gun. A huge forearm slid up the quarter-breed's chest and +came to rest under the chin, while the man beat frantically with his +two fists against MacNair's shoulders and ribs. + +He stared wildly into MacNair's eyes--eyes that glowed with a greenish +hate-glare like the night-eyes of the wolf. Backward and yet backward +the man bent until it seemed that his spine must snap. His clenched +fists ceased to beat futilely against the huge shoulders of his +opponent, and he clawed frantically at the snow that hung in a +miniature cornice along the edge of the wood-pile. + +Chloe crowded close, shoving the Indians aside. There was a swift +movement near her. The Louchoux girl forced past and leaped lightly to +the top of the wood-pile, where she knelt close, staring downward with +hard, burning eyes into the up-turned face of Lapierre. + +The man could bend no farther now, his shoulders were imbedded in the +snow and the back of his head was buried to the ears. His chest heaved +spasmodically as he gasped for air, and the thin breath whined through +his teeth. His lips turned greyish-blue and swelled thick, like strips +of blistered rubber, and his eyes rolled upward until they looked like +the sightless eyes of the blind. The blue-grey lips writhed +spasmodically. He tried to cry out, but the sound died in a horrible +throaty gurgle. + +Slowly, MacNair raised his gun--Lapierre's own gun that he had +wrenched, bare-handed from his grasp. Raised it until the muzzle +reached the level of Lapierre's eyes. Chloe had stared wide-eyed +throughout the whole proceeding. Gazing in fascination at the slow +deliberateness of the terrible ordeal. + +As the muzzle of the gun came to rest between Lapierre's eyes the girl +sprang to MacNair's side. "Don't! Oh, don't kill him!" Her voice +rose almost to a shriek. "Don't kill him--for my sake!" + +The muzzle of the gun lowered and without releasing an ounce of +pressure upon the grip-locked body of the man, MacNair slowly turned +his eyes to meet the eyes of the girl. Never in her life had she +looked into eyes like that--eyes that gleamed and stabbed, and burned +with a terrible pent-up emotion. The eyes of Tiger Elliston, +intensified a hundredfold! And then MacNair's lips moved and his voice +came low but distinctly and with terrible hardness. + +"I am not going to kill him," he said, "but, by God! He will wish I +had! I hope he will live to be an old, old man. To the day of his +death he will carry my mark. Bone-deep he will carry the scar of the +gun-brand! The cross of the curse of Cain!" + +MacNair turned from the girl and again the gun crept slowly upward. +The quarter-breed had heard the words. With a mighty effort he filled +his lungs and from between the blue-grey lips sang a wild, shrill +scream of abysmal soul-terror. Chloe Elliston's heart went sick at the +cry, which rang in her ears as the very epitome of mortal agony. She +felt her knees grow weak and she glanced at the Louchoux girl, who +knelt close, still staring into the upturned face, the while her red +lips smiled. + +Closer, and closer crowded the Indians. MacNair deliberately reversed +the gun, his huge fist still gripping the butt. The top of the barrel +was turned downward, and the sight bit deep into the skin at the roots +of the hair on Lapierre's temple. Deeper and deeper sank the sight. +MacNair's fingers tightened their grip until the knuckles whitened and +a huge shoulder hunched to throw its weight upon the arm. + +Slowly, very slowly, the sight moved across the upturned brow, tearing +the flesh, rolling up the skin before its dull, broad edge. The +quarter-breed's muscles strained and his legs twined spasmodically +about the legs of MacNair, while his fingers tore through the snow and +clawed at the bark of the wood-pile. Deliberately, the gun-sight +ripped and tore across the forehead--grooving the bone. The wide scar +showed raw and red, and in spots the skull flashed white. The broad +line lost itself in the hair upon the opposite temple. + +Again MacNair buried the sight, this time among the hair roots of the +median line. Once more the gun began its slow journey, travelling +downward, crossing the lateral scar with a ragged tear. Once more the +flesh and skin ripped and rolled before the unfaltering sight and +gathered upon the edges of the wound in ragged, tight-rolled knots and +shreds that would later heal into snaggy, rough excrescences, grey, +like the unclean dregs of a slag-pot. + +A thin trickle of blood followed slowly along the groove. The +gun-sight was almost between the man's eyes, when, with a scream, Chloe +sprang forward and clutched MacNair's arm in both her hands. + +"You brute!" she cried. "You inhuman brute! _I hate you_!" + +MacNair answered never a word. With a sweep of his arm he flung her +from him. She spun dizzily and fell in a heap on the snow. Once more +the gun-sight rested deep against the bone at the point of its +interruption. Once more it began its inexorable advance, creeping down +between the eyes and along the bridge of the nose. Cartilage split +wide, the upper lip was cleft, and the steel clicked sharply against +blood-dripping teeth. + +Then MacNair stood erect and gazed with approval upon his handiwork. +His glance swept the lake, and suddenly his shoulders stiffened as he +scrutinized several moving figures that approached across the level +surface of the snow. Striding swiftly to the edge of the plateau, he +shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed long and earnestly toward the +approaching figures. Then he returned to Lapierre. The man had stood +the terrible ordeal without losing consciousness. Reaching down, +MacNair seized him by the collar, and jerking him to his feet, half +dragged him to the rim of the plateau. + +"Look!" he cried savagely. "Yonder, comes LeFroy--and with him are the +men of the Mounted." + +Lapierre stared dumbly. His thin hand twitched nervously, and his +fists clasped and unclasped as the palms grew wet with sweat. + +MacNair gripped his shoulder and twisted him about his tracks. Slow +seconds passed as the two men stood facing each other there in the +snow, and then, slowly, MacNair raised his hand and pointed toward the +forest--toward the depths of the black spruce swamp. + +"Go!" he roared. "Damn you! Go hunt your kind! I did not brand you +to delight the eyes of prison guards. Go, mingle with free men, that +they may see--and be warned!" + +With one last glance toward the approaching figures, Pierre Lapierre +glided swiftly to the foot of the stockade, mounted the firing ledge, +and swung himself over the wall. + +Bob MacNair watched the form of the quarter-breed disappear from sight +and then, tossing the gun into the snow, turned to Chloe Elliston. +Straight toward the girl he advanced with long, swinging strides. +There was no hesitancy, no indecision in the free swing of the +shoulders, nor did his steps once falter, nor the eyes that bored deep +into hers waver for a single instant. And as the girl faced him a +sudden sense of helplessness overwhelmed her. + +On he came--this big man of the North; this man who trampled rough-shod +the conventions, even the laws of men. The man who could fight, and +kill, and maim, in defence of his principles. Whose hand was heavy +upon the evil-doer. A man whose finer sensibilities, despite their +rough environment, could rise to a complete mastery of him. Inherently +a fighting man. A man whose great starved heart had never known a +woman's love. + +Instinctively, she drew back from him and closed her eyes. And then +she knew that he was standing still before her--very close--for she +could hear distinctly the sound of his breathing. Without seeing she +knew that he was looking into her face with those piercing, boring, +steel-grey eyes. She waited for what seemed ages for him to speak, but +he stood before her--silent. + +"He is rough and uncouth and brutal. He hurled you spinning into the +snow," whispered an inner voice. + +"Yes, strong and brutal and good!" answered her heart. + +Chloe opened her eyes. MacNair stood before her in all his bigness. +She gazed at him wide-eyed. He was fumbling his Stetson in his hand, +and she noticed the long hair was pushed back from his broad brow. The +blood rushed into the girl's face. Her fists clenched tight, and she +took a swift step forward. + +"Bob MacNair! _Put on your hat_!" + +A puzzled look crept into the man's eyes, his face flushed like the +face of a schoolboy who had been caught in a foolish prank, and he +returned the hat awkwardly to his head. + +"I thought--that is--you wrote in the letter, here--" he paused as his +fingers groped at the pocket of his shirt. + +Chloe interrupted him. "If any man ever takes his Stetson off to me +again I'll--I'll _hate_ him!" + +Bob MacNair stared down upon the belligerent figure before him. He +noticed the clenched fists, the defiant tilt of the shoulders, the +unconscious out-thrust of the chin--and then his eyes met squarely the +flashing eyes of the girl. + +For a long, long time he gazed into the depths of the upturned eyes, +and then, either the significance of her words dawned suddenly upon +him, or he read in that long glance the wondrous message of her love. +With a low, glad cry he sprang to her and gathered her into his great, +strong arms and pressed her lithe, pliant body close against his +pounding heart, while through his veins swept the wild, fierce joy of a +mighty passion. Bob MacNair had come into his own! + +There was a lively commotion among the Indians, and MacNair raised his +head to meet the gaze of LeFroy and Constable Craig and two others of +the men of the Mounted. + +"Where is Lapierre?" asked the constable. + +Chloe struggled in confusion to release herself from the encircling +arms, but the arms closed the tighter, and with a final sigh of +surrender the girl ceased her puny struggles. + +Constable Craig's lips twitched in a suppressed smile. "Ripley was +right," he muttered to himself as he awaited MacNair's reply. "They +have found each other at last." + +And then the answer came. MacNair stared straight into the officer's +eyes, and his words rang with a terrible meaning. + +"Lapierre," he said, "has gone away from here. If you see him again +you shall never forget him." His eyes returned to the girl, close-held +against his heart. Her two arms stole upward until the slender hands +closed about his neck. Her lips moved, and he bent to catch the words. + +"I love you," she faltered, and glancing shyly, almost timidly into his +face, encountered there the look she had come to know so well--the +suspicion of a smile upon the lips and just the shadow of a twinkle +playing in the deep-set eyes. She repeated, softly, the words that +rang through her brain: "I love you--_Brute MacNair_!" + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gun-Brand, by James B. Hendryx + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GUN-BRAND *** |