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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19064-8.txt b/19064-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce45a42 --- /dev/null +++ b/19064-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13124 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Triumph of John Kars, by Ridgwell Cullum + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Triumph of John Kars + A Story of the Yukon + + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + + + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [eBook #19064] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 19064-h.htm or 19064-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064/19064-h/19064-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064/19064-h.zip) + + + + + +THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS + +A Story of the Yukon + +by + +RIDGWELL CULLUM + +Author of +"The Golden Woman," "The Son of His Father," "The Way of the Strong," +"The Men Who Wrought" + +With Frontispiece in Colors + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: The defenders were reduced to four.] + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers -------- New York +Copyright, 1917, by +George W. Jacobs & Company +All rights reserved + + + + +Contents + + + I. AT FORT MOWBRAY + II. THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA + III. THE LETTER + IV. ON BELL RIVER + V. IN THE NIGHT + VI. JOHN KARS + VII. AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING + VIII. TWO MEN OF THE NORTH + IX. MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY + X. THE MAN WITH THE SCAR + XI. THE SECRET OF THE GORGE + XII. DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT + XIII. THE FALL TRADE + XIV. ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT + XV. FATHER JOSÉ PROBES + XVI. A MAN AND A MAID + XVII. A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE + XVIII. ON THE NORTHERN SEAS + XIX. AT THE GRIDIRON + XX. THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN + XXI. DR. BILL INVESTIGATES + XXII. IN THE SPRINGTIME + XXIII. THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN + XXIV. THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN + XXV. THE OUT-WORLD + XXVI. THE DEPUTATION + XXVII. THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER + XXVIII. THE HARVEST OF BATTLE + XXIX. THE LAP OF THE GODS + XXX. THE END OF THE TERROR + XXXI. THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL + XXXII. THE SUMMER OF LIFE + + + + +The Triumph of John Kars + + +CHAPTER I + +AT FORT MOWBRAY + +Murray McTavish was seated at a small table, green-baized, littered +with account-books and a profusion of papers. But he was not regarding +these things. Instead, his dark, intelligent eyes were raised to the +smallish, dingy window in front of him, set in its deep casing of +centuries-old logs. Nor was the warm light shining in his eyes +inspired by the sufficiently welcome sunlight beyond. His gaze was +entirely absorbed by a fur-clad figure, standing motionless in the open +jaws of the gateway of the heavily timbered stockade outside. + +It was the figure of a young woman. A long coat of beaver skin, and a +cap of the same fur pressed down low over her ruddy brown hair, held +her safe from the bitter chill of the late semi-arctic fall. She, too, +was absorbed in the scene upon which she was gazing. + +Her soft eyes, so gray and gentle, searched the distance. The hills, +snow-capped and serrated. The vast incline of ancient glacier, rolling +backwards and upwards in discolored waves from the precipitate opposite +bank of Snake River. The woods, so darkly overpowering as the year +progressed towards its old age. The shaking tundra, treacherous and +hideous with rank growths of the summer. The river facets of broken +crags awaiting the cloak of winter to conceal their crude nakedness. +Then the trail, so slight, so faint. The work of sleds and moccasined +feet through centuries of native traffic, with the occasional variation +of the hard shod feet of the white adventurer. + +She knew it all by heart. She read it all with the eyes of one who has +known no other outlook since first she opened them upon the world. +Yes, she knew it all. But that which she did not know she was seeking +now. Beyond all things, at that moment, she desired to penetrate some +of the secrets that lay beyond her grim horizon. + +Her brows were drawn in a slight frown. The questions she was asking +peeped out of the depths of her searching eyes. And they were the +questions of a troubled mind. + +A step sounded behind her, but she did not turn. A moment later the +voice of Murray McTavish challenged her. + +"Why?" + +The brief demand was gentle enough, yet it contained a sort of playful +irony, which, at the moment, Jessie Mowbray resented. She turned. +There was impatience in the eyes which confronted him. She regarded +him steadily. + +"Why? It's always _why_--with you, when feelings get the better of me. +Maybe you never feel dread, or doubt, or worry. Maybe you never feel +anything--human. Say, you're a man and strong. I'm just a woman, +and--and he's my father. He's overdue by six weeks. He's not back +yet, and we've had no word from him all summer." + +Her impatience became swallowed up by her anxiety again. The appeal of +her manner, her beauty were not lost upon the man. + +"So you stand around looking at the trail he needs to come over, +setting up a fever of trouble for yourself figgering on the traps and +things nature's laid out for us folk beyond those hills. Guess that's +a woman sure." + +Hot, impatient words rose to the girl's lips, but she choked them back. + +"I can't argue it," she cried, a little desperately. "Father should +have been back six weeks ago. You know that. He isn't back. Well?" + +"Allan and I have run this old post ten years," Murray said soberly. +"In those ten years there's not been a single time that Allan's hit the +northern trail on a trade when he's got back to time by many +weeks--generally more than six. It don't seem to me I've seen his +little girl standing around same as she's doing now--ever before." + +The girl drew her collar up about her neck. The gesture was a mere +desire for movement. + +"I guess I've never felt as I do now," she said miserably. + +"How?" + +The girl's words came in a sudden passionate rush. + +"Oh, it's no use!" she cried. "You wouldn't understand. You're a good +partner. You're a big man on the trail. Guess there's no bigger men +on the trail than you and father--unless it's John Kars. But you all +fight with hard muscle. You figure out the sums as you see them. You +don't act as women do when they don't know. I've got it all here," she +added, pressing her fur mitted hands over her bosom, her face flushed +and her eyes shining with emotion. "I know, I feel there's something +amiss. I've never felt this way before. Where is he? Where did he go +this time? He never tells us. You never tell us. We don't know. +Can't help be sent? Can't I go with an outfit and search for him?" + +The man's smile had died out. His big eyes, strange, big dark eyes, +avoided the girl's. They turned towards the desolate, sunlit horizon. +His reply was delayed as though he were seeking what best to say. + +The girl waited with what patience she could summon. She was born and +bred to the life of this fierce northern world, where women look to +their men for guidance, where they are forced to rely upon man's +strength for life itself. + +She gazed upon the round profile, awaiting that final word which she +felt must be given. Murray McTavish was part of the life she lived on +the bitter heights of the Yukon territory. In her mind he was a +fixture of the fort which years since had been given her father's name. +He was a young man, a shade on the better side of thirty-five, but he +possessed none of the features associated with the men of the trail. +His roundness was remarkable, and emphasized by his limited stature. +His figure was the figure of a middle-aged merchant who has spent his +life in the armchair of a city office. His neck was short and fat. +His face was round and full. The only feature he possessed which +lifted him out of the ruck of the ordinary was his eyes. These were +unusual enough. There was their great size, and a subtle glowing fire +always to be discovered in the large dark pupils. They gave the man a +suggestion of tremendous passionate impulse. One look at them and the +insignificant, the commonplace bodily form was forgotten. An +impression of flaming energy supervened. The man's capacity for +effort, physical or mental, for emotion, remained undoubted. + +But Jessie Mowbray was too accustomed to the man to dwell on these +things, to notice them. His easy, smiling, good-natured manner was the +man known to the inhabitants of Fort Mowbray, and the Mission of St. +Agatha on the Snake River. + +The man's reply came at last. It came seriously, earnestly. + +"I can't guess how this notion's got into you, Jessie," he said, his +eyes still dwelling on the broken horizon. "Allan's the hardest man in +the north--not even excepting John Kars, who's got you women-folk +mesmerized. Allan's been traipsing this land since two years before +you were born, and that is more than twenty years ago. There's not a +hill, or valley, or river he don't know like a school kid knows its +alphabet. Not an inch of this devil's playground for nigh a range of +three hundred miles. There isn't a trouble on the trail he's not been +up against, and beat every time. And now--why, now he's got a right +outfit with him, same as always, you're worrying. Say, there's only +one thing I can figger to beat Allan Mowbray on the trail. It would +need to be Indians, and a biggish outfit of them. Even then I'd bet my +last nickel on him." He shook his head with decision. "No, I guess +he'll be right along when his work's through." + +"And his work?" + +The girl's tone was one of relief. Murray's confidence was infectious +in spite of her instinctive fears. + +The man shrugged his fleshy shoulders under his fur-lined pea-jacket. + +"Trade, I guess. We're not here for health. Allan don't fight the +gods of the wilderness or the legion of elemental devils who run this +desert for the play of it. No, this country breeds just one race. +First and last we're wage slaves. Maybe we're more wage slaves north +of 60 degrees than any dull-witted toiler taking his wage by the hour, +and spending it at the end of each week. We're slaves of the big +money, and every man, and many of the women, who cross 60 degrees are +ready to stake their souls as well as bodies, if they haven't already +done so, for the yellow dust that's to buy the physic they'll need to +keep their bodies alive later when they've turned their backs on a +climate that was never built for white men." + +Then the seriousness passed for smiling good-nature. It was the look +his round face was made for. It was the manner the girl was accustomed +to. + +"Guess this country's a pretty queer book to read," he went on. "And +there aren't any pictures to it, either. Most of us living up here +have opened its covers, and some of us have read. But I guess Allan's +read deeper than any of us. I'd say he's read deeper even than John +Kars. It's for that reason I sold my interests in Seattle an' joined +him ten years ago in the enterprise he'd set up here. It's been tough, +but it's sure been worth it," he observed reflectively. "Yep. Sure it +has." He sighed in a satisfied way. Then his smile deepened, and the +light in his eyes glowed with something like enthusiasm. "Think of it. +You can trade right here just how you darn please. You can make your +own laws, and abide by 'em or break 'em just as you get the notion. +Think of it, we're five hundred miles, five hundred miles of fierce +weather, and the devil's own country, from the coast. We're three +hundred miles from the nearest law of civilization. And, as for +newspapers and the lawmakers, they're fifteen hundred miles of tempest +and every known elemental barrier away. We're kings in our own +country--if we got the nerve. And we don't need to care a whoop so the +play goes on. Can you beat it? No. And Allan knows it all--all. +He's the only man who does--for all your John Kars. I'm glad. Say, +Jessie, it's dead easy to face anything if you feel--just glad." + +As he finished speaking the eyes which had held the girl were turned +towards the gray shadows eastward. He was gazing out towards that far +distant region of the Mackenzie River which flowed northwards to empty +itself into the ice-bound Arctic Ocean. But he was not thinking of the +river. + +Jessie was relieved at her escape from his masterful gaze. But she was +glad of his confidence and unquestioned strength. It helped her when +she needed help, and some of her shadows had been dispelled. + +"I s'pose it's as you say," she returned without enthusiasm. "If my +daddy's safe that's all I care. Mother's good. I just love her. +And--Alec, he's a good boy. I love my mother and my brother. But +neither of them could ever replace my daddy. Yes, I'll be glad for him +to get back. Oh, so glad. When--when d'you think that'll be?" + +"When his work's through." + +"I must be patient. Say, I wish I'd got nerve." + +The man laughed pleasantly. + +"Guess what a girl needs is for her men-folk to have nerve," he said. +"I don't know 'bout your brother Alec, but your father--well, he's got +it all." + +The girl's eyes lit. + +"Yes," she said simply. Then, with a glance westwards at the dying +daylight, she went on: "We best get down to the Mission. Supper'll be +waiting." + +Murray nodded. + +"Sure. We'll get right along." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA + +A haunting silence prevails in the land beyond the barrier of the Yukon +watershed. It is a world apart, beyond, and the other land, the land +where the battle of civilization still fluctuates, still sways under +the violent passions of men, remains outside. + +Its fascination is beyond all explanation. Yet it is as great as its +conditions are merciless. Murray McTavish had sought the explanation, +and found it in the fact that it was a land in which man could make his +own laws and break them at his pleasure. Was this really its +fascination? Hardly. The explanation must surely lie in something +deeper. Surely the primitive in man, which no civilization can +out-breed, would be the better answer. + +In Allan Mowbray's case this was definitely so. Murray McTavish had +served his full apprenticeship where the laws of civilization prevail. +His judgment could scarcely be accepted in a land where only the strong +may survive. + +The difference between the two men was as wide as the countries which +had bred them, and furthermore Allan had survived on the banks of the +Snake River for upwards of twenty-five years. For twenty-five years he +had lived the only life that appealed to his primitive instincts and +powers. And before that he had never so much as peeped beyond the +watershed at the world outside. His whole life was instinct with +courage. His years had been years of struggle and happiness, years in +which a loyal and devoted wife had shared his every disappointment and +success, years in which he had watched his son and daughter grow to the +ripeness of full youth. + +The whole life of these people was a simple enough story of passionate +energy, and a slow, steady-growing prosperity, built out of a +wilderness where a moment's weakness would have yielded them complete +disaster. But they were merciless upon their own powers. They knew +the stake, and played for all. The man played for the tiny lives which +had come to cheer his resting moments, and the defenceless woman who +had borne them. The woman supported him with a loyal devotion and +courage that was invincible. + +For years Allan Mowbray had scoured the country in search of his trade. +His outfit was known to every remote Indian race, east and west, and +north--always north. His was a figure that haunted the virgin +woodlands, the broad rivers, the unspeakable wastes of silence at all +times and seasons. Even the world outside found an echo of his labors. + +These two had fought their battle unaided from the grim shelter of Fort +Mowbray. And, in the clearing of St. Agatha's Mission, at the foot of +the bald knoll, upon the summit of which the old Fort stood, their +infrequent moments of leisure were spent in the staunch log hut which +the man had erected for the better comfort of his young children. + +Then had come the greater prosperity. It was the time of a prosperity +upon which the simple-minded fur-hunter had never counted. The Fort +became a store for trade. It was no longer a mere headquarters where +furs were made ready for the market. Trade developed. Real trade. +And Allan was forced to change his methods. The work was no longer +possible single-handed. The claims of the trail suddenly increased, +and both husband and wife saw that their prospects had entirely +outgrown their calculations. + +Forthwith long council was taken between them. Either the trail, with +its possibilities, which had suddenly become an enormous factor in +their lives, or the store at the Fort, which was almost equally +important, must be abandoned, or a partner must be found and taken. +Allan Mowbray was not the man to yield a detail of the harvest he had +so laboriously striven for. So decision fell upon the latter course. + +Murray McTavish was not twenty-five when he arrived at the Fort. He +was a man of definite personality and was consumed with an abundance of +determination and resource. His inclination to stoutness was even then +pronounced. But above all stood out his profound, concentrated +understanding of American commercial methods, and the definite, almost +fixed smile of his deeply shining eyes. + +There was never a doubt of the wisdom of Allan's choice from the moment +of his arrival. Murray plunged himself unreservedly into the work of +the enterprise, searching its possibilities with a keenly businesslike +eye, and he saw that they had been by no means overestimated by his +partner. There was no delay. With methods of smiling "hustle" he took +charge of the work at the Fort, and promptly released the overburdened +Allan for the important work of the trail. + +Nor was Ailsa Mowbray the least affected by the new partner's coming. +It was early made clear that her years of labor were at last to yield +her that leisure she craved for the upbringing of her little family, +which was, even now, receiving education under the cultured guidance of +the little French-Canadian priest who had set up his Mission in this +wide wilderness. For the first time in all her married life she found +herself free to indulge in the delights of a domesticity her woman's +heart desired. + +It was about the end of the summer, after Murray's coming to the Fort, +that an element of trouble began to disquiet the peace of the Mission +on Snake River. It almost seemed as if the change from the old +conditions had broken the spell of the years of calm which had +prevailed. Yet the trouble was remote enough. Furthermore it seemed +natural enough. + +First came rumor. It traveled the vast, silent places in that +mysterious fashion which never seems clearly accounted for. Well over +a hundred and fifty miles of mountain, and valley, and trackless +woodlands separated the Fort from the great Mackenzie River, yet, on +the wings of the wind, it seemed, was borne a story of war, of +massacre, of savage destruction. The hitherto peaceful fishing Indians +of Bell River had suddenly become the hooligans of the north. They +were carrying fire and slaughter to all lesser Indian settlements +within a radius of a hundred miles of their own sombre valley. + +The Fort was disturbed. The whole Mission struck a note of panic. +Father José saw grave danger for his small flock of Indian converts. +He remembered the white woman and her children, too. He was seriously +alarmed. Allan was away, so he sought the advice of those remaining. +Murray was untried in the conditions of the life of the country, but +Ailsa Mowbray possessed all the little man's confidence. + +In the end, however, it was Murray who decided. He took upon himself +the position of leader in his partner's absence, and claimed the right +to probe the trouble to its depths. The priest and Ailsa yielded +reluctantly. They, at least, understood the risk of his inexperience. +But Murray forcefully rejected any denial, and, with characteristic +energy, and no little skill, he gathered an outfit together and +promptly set out for Bell River. + +It was the one effort needed to assure him of his permanent place in +the life of the Fort on Snake River. It left him no longer an untried +recruit, but a soldier in the battle of the wilderness. + +A month later he returned from his perilous enterprise with his work +well and truly done. The information he brought was comprehensive and +not without comfort. The Bell River Indians had certainly taken to the +war-path. But it was only in defence of their fishing on the river +which meant their whole existence. They were defending it +successfully, but, in their success, their savage instincts had run +amuck. Not content with slaying the invaders they had annexed their +enemy's property and squaws. Then, with characteristic ruthlessness, +they had set about carrying war far and near, but only amongst the +Indians. Their efforts undoubtedly had a dual purpose, The primary +object was the satisfying of a war lust suddenly stirred into being in +savage hearts by their first successes. The other was purely politic. +They meant to establish a terror, and so safeguard their food supplies +for all time. + +Murray's story was complete. It was thorough. It had not been easy. +His capacity henceforth became beyond all question. + +So the cloud passed for the moment. But it did not disappear. The +people at the Fort, even Allan Mowbray, himself, when he returned, +dismissed the matter without further consideration. He laughed at the +panic which had arisen in his absence, while yet he commended Murray's +initiative and courage. + +After the first lull, however, fresh stories percolated through. They +reached the Fort again and again, at varying intervals, until the Bell +River Valley became a black, dangerous spot in the minds of all people, +and both Indians, and any chance white adventurer, who sought shelter +at the Fort, received due warning to avoid this newly infected plague +spot. + +It was nearly ten years since these things had occurred. And during +all that time the primitive life on the banks of Snake River had +continued to progress in its normal calm. Each year brought its added +prosperity, which found little enough outward display beyond the +constant bettering of trade conditions which went on under Murray's +busy hands. A certain added comfort reached the mother's home in the +Mission clearing. But otherwise the outward and visible signs of the +wealth that was being stored up were none. + +Father José's Mission grew in extent. The clearing widened and the +numbers of savage converts increased definitely. The charity and +medical skill of the little priest, and the Mission's adjacency to a +big trading post, were responsible for drawing about the place every +begging Indian and the whole of his belongings. The old man received +them, and his benefits were placed at their service; the only return he +demanded was an attendance at his religious services, and that the +children should be sent to the classes which he held in the Mission +House. It was a pastoral that held every element of beauty, but as an +anachronism in the fierce setting north of "sixty" it was even more +perfect. + +Allan Mowbray looked on at all these things in his brief enough +leisure. Nor was he insensible to the changed conditions of comfort in +his own home, due to the persistent genius of his partner. The old, +rough furnishings had gone to be replaced by modern stuff, which must +have demanded a stupendous effort in haulage from the gold city of +Leaping Horse, nearly three hundred miles distant. But Ailsa was +pleased. That was his great concern. Ailsa was living the life he had +always desired for her, and he was free to roam the wilderness at his +will. He blessed the day that had brought Murray McTavish into the +enterprise. + +Just now Allan had been away from the Fort nearly the whole of the open +season. His return was awaited by all. These journeys of his brought, +as a result, a rush of business to the Fort, and an added life to the +Mission. Then there was the mother, and her now grown children, +waiting to welcome the man who was their all. + +But Allan Mowbray had not yet returned, and Jessie, young, impulsive, +devoted, was living in a fever of apprehension such as her experienced +mother never displayed. + +Supper was ready at the house when Murray and Jessie arrived from the +Fort. Ailsa Mowbray was awaiting them. She regarded them smilingly as +they came. Her eyes, twins, in their beauty and coloring, with her +daughter's, were full of that quiet patience which years of struggle +had inspired. For all she was approaching fifty, she was a handsome, +erect woman, taller than the average, with a figure of physical +strength quite unimpaired by the hard wear of that bitter northern +world. Her greeting was the greeting of a mother, whose chief concern +is the bodily welfare of her children, and a due regard for her +domestic arrangements. + +"Jessie's young yet, and maybe that accounts for a heap. But you, +Murray, being a man, ought to know when it's food time. I guess it's +been waiting a half hour. Come right in, and we'll get on without +waiting for Alec. The boy went out with his gun, an' I don't think +we'll see him till he's ready." + +Jessie's serious eyes had caught her mother's attention. Ailsa Mowbray +possessed all a mother's instinct. Her watch over her pretty daughter, +though unobtrusive, was never for a moment relaxed. Some day she +supposed the child would have to marry. Well, the choice was small +enough. It scarcely seemed a thing to concern herself with. But she +did. And her feelings and opinions were very decided. + +Murray smilingly accepted the blame for their tardiness. + +"Guess it's up to me," he said. "You see, Jessie was good enough to +let me yarn about the delights of this slice of God's country. Well, +when a feller gets handing out his talk that way to a bright girl, who +doesn't find she's got a previous engagement elsewhere, he's liable to +forget such ordinary things as mere food." + +Mrs. Mowbray nodded. + +"That's the way of it--sure. Specially when you haven't cooked it," +she said, with a smile that robbed her words of all reproach. + +She turned to pass within the rambling, log-built house. But at that +moment two dogs raced round the angle of the building and fawned up to +her, completely ignoring the others. + +"Guess Alec's--ready," was Murray's smiling comment. + +There was a shadow of irony in the man's words, which made the mother +glance up quickly from the dogs she was impartially caressing. + +"Yes," she said simply, and without warmth. Her regard though +momentary was very direct. + +Murray turned away as the sound of voices followed in the wake of the +dogs. + +"Hello!" he cried, in a startled fashion. "Here's Father José, +and--Keewin!" + +"Keewin?" + +It was Jessie who echoed the name. But her mother had ceased caressing +the dogs. She stood very erect, and quite silent. + +Three men turned the corner of the house. Alec came first. He was +tall, a fair edition of his mother, but without any of the strength of +character so plainly written on her handsome features. Only just +behind him came Father José and an Indian. + +The Padre of the Mission was a white-haired, white-browed man of many +years and few enough inches. His weather-stained face, creased like +parchment, was lit by a pair of piercing eyes, which were full of fire +and mental energy. But, for the moment, no one had eyes for anything +but the stoic placidity of the expressionless features of the Indian. +The man's forehead was bound with a blood-stained bandage of dirty +cloth. + +Ailsa Mowbray's gentle eyes widened. Her firm lips perceptibly +tightened. Direct as a shot came her inquiry. + +"What's amiss?" she demanded. + +She was addressing the white man, but her eyes were steadily regarding +the Indian. + +A moment later a second inquiry came. + +"Why is Keewin here? Why is he wounded?" + +The Padre replied. It was characteristic of the country in which they +lived, the lives they lived, that he resorted to no subterfuge, +although he knew his tidings were bad. + +"Keewin's got through from Bell River. It's a letter to you +from--Allan." + +The woman had perfect command of herself. She paled slightly, but her +lips were even firmer set. Jessie hurried to her side. It was as +though the child had instinctively sought the mother's support in face +of a blow which she knew was about to fall. + +Ailsa held out one hand. + +"Give it to me," she said authoritatively. Then, as the Padre handed +the letter across to her, she added: "But first tell me what's amiss +with him." + +The Padre cleared his throat. + +"He's held up," he said firmly. "The Bell River neches have got him +surrounded. Keewin got through with great difficulty, and has been +wounded. You best read the letter, and--tell us." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LETTER + +Ailsa Mowbray tore off the fastening which secured the outer cover of +discolored buckskin. Inside was a small sheet of folded paper. She +opened it, and glanced at the handwriting. Then, without a word, she +turned back into the house. Jessie followed her mother. It was nature +asserting itself. Danger was in the air, and the sex instinct at once +became uppermost. + +The men were left alone. + +Murray turned on the Indian. Father José and Alec Mowbray waited +attentively. + +"Tell me," Murray commanded. "Tell me quickly--while the missis and +the other are gone. They got his words. You tell me yours." + +His words came sharply. Keewin was Allan Mowbray's most trusted scout. + +The man answered at once, in a rapid flow of broken English. His one +thought was succor for his great white boss. + +"Him trade," he began, adopting his own method of narrating events, +which Murray was far too wise in his understanding of Indians to +attempt to change. "Great boss. Him much trade. Big. Plenty. So we +come by Bell River. One week, two week, three week, by Bell River." +He counted off the weeks on his fingers. "Bimeby Indian--him come +plenty. No pow-wow. Him come by night. All around corrals. Him make +big play. Him shoot plenty. Dead--dead--dead. Much dead." He +pointed at the ground in many directions to indicate the fierceness of +the attack. "Boss Allan--him big chief. Plenty big. Him say us fight +plenty--too. Him say, him show 'em dis Indian. So him fight big. Him +kill heap plenty too. So--one week. More Indian come. Boss Allan +then call Keewin. Us make big pow-wow. Him say ten Indian kill. Good +Indian. Ten still fight. Not 'nuff. No good ten fight whole tribe. +Him get help, or all kill. So. Him call Star-man. Keewin say +Star-man plenty good Indian. Him send Star-man to fort. So. No help +come. Maybe Star-man him get kill. So him pow-wow. Keewin say, him +go fetch help. Keewin go, not all be kill. So Keewin go. Indian find +Keewin. They shoot plenty much. Keewin no care that," he flicked his +tawny fingers in the air. "Indian no good shoot. Keewin laugh. So. +Keewin come fort." + +The man ceased speaking, his attitude remaining precisely as it was +before he began. He was without a sign of emotion. Neither the Padre +nor Alec spoke. Both were waiting for Murray. The priest's eyes were +on the trader's stern round face. He was watching and reading with +profound insight. Alec continued to regard the Indian. But he chafed +under Murray's delay. + +Before the silence was broken Ailsa Mowbray reappeared in the doorway. +Jessie had remained behind. + +The wife's face was a study in strong courage battling with emotion. +Her gray eyes, no longer soft, were steady, however. Her brows were +markedly drawn. Her lips, too, were firm, heroically firm. + +She held out her letter to the Padre. It was noticeable she did not +offer it to Murray. + +"Read it," she said. Then she added: "You can all read it. Alec, too." + +The two men closed in on either side of Father José. The woman looked +on while the three pairs of eyes read the firm clear handwriting. + +"Well?" she demanded, as the men looked up from their reading, and the +priest thoughtfully refolded the paper. + +Alec's tongue was the more ready to express his thoughts. + +"God!" he cried. "It means--massacre!" + +The priest turned on him in reproof. His keen eyes shone like +burnished steel. + +"Keep silent--you," he cried, in a sharp, staccato way. + +The hot blood mounted to the boy's cheek, whether in abashment or in +anger would be impossible to say. He was prevented from further word +by Murray McTavish who promptly took command. + +"Say, there's no time for talk," he said, in his decisive fashion. +"It's up to us to get busy right away." He turned to the priest. +"Father, I need two crews for the big canoes right off--now. You'll +get 'em. Good crews for the paddle. Best let Keewin pick 'em. Eh, +Keewin?" The Indian nodded. "Keewin'll take charge of one, and I the +other. I can make Bell River under the week. I'll drive the crews to +the limit, an' maybe make the place in four days. I'll get right back +to the store now for the arms and ammunition, and the grub. We start +in an hour's time." + +Then he turned on Alec. There was no question in his mind. He had +made his decisions clearly and promptly. + +"See, boy," he said. "You'll stay right here. I'm aware you don't +fancy the store. But fer once you'll need to run it. But more than +all you'll be responsible nothing goes amiss for the women-folk. Their +care is up to you, in your father's absence. Get me? Father José'll +help you all he knows." + +Then, without awaiting reply, he turned to Allan Mowbray's wife. His +tone changed to one of the deepest gravity. + +"Ma'am," he said, "whatever man can do to help your husband now, I'll +do. I'll spare no one in the effort. Certainly not myself. That's my +word." + +The wife's reply came in a voice that was no longer steady. + +"Thank you, Murray--for myself and for Allan. God--bless you." + +Murray had turned already to return to the Fort when Alec suddenly +burst out in protest. His eyes lit--the eyes of his mother. His fresh +young face was scarlet to the brow. + +"And do you suppose I'm going to sit around while father's being done +to death by a lot of rotten Indians? Not on your life. See here, +Murray, if there's any one needed to hang around the store it's up to +you. Father José can look after mother and Jessie. My place is with +the outfit, and--I'm going with it. Besides, who are you to dictate +what I'm to do? You look after your business; I'll see to mine. You +get me? I'm going up there to Bell River. I----" + +"You'll--stop--right--here!" + +Murray had turned in a flash, and in his voice was a note none of those +looking on had ever heard before. It was a revelation of the man, and +even Father José was startled. The clash was sudden. Both the mother +and the priest realized for the first time in ten years the antagonism +underlying this outward display. + +The mother had no understanding of it. The priest perhaps had some. +He knew Murray's energy and purpose. He knew that Alec had been +indulged to excess by his parents. It would have seemed impossible in +the midst of the stern life in which they all lived that the son of +such parents could have grown up other than in their image. But it was +not so, and no one knew it better than Father José, who had been +responsible for his education. + +Alec was weak, reckless. Of his physical courage there was no +question. He had inherited his father's and his mother's to the full. +But he lacked their every other balance. He was idle, he loathed the +store and all belonging to it. He detested the life he was forced to +live in this desolate world, and craved, as only weak, virile youth can +crave, for the life and pleasure of the civilization he had read of, +heard of, dreamed of. + +Murray followed up his words before the younger man could gather his +retort. + +"When your father's in danger there's just one service you can do him," +he went on, endeavoring to check his inclination to hot words. "If +there's a thing happens to you, and we can't help your father, why, I +guess your mother and sister are left without a hand to help 'em. Do +you get that? I'm thinking for Allan Mowbray the best I know. I can +run this outfit to the limit. I can do what any other man can do for +his help. Your place is your father's place--right here. Ask your +mother." + +Murray looked across at Mrs. Mowbray, still standing in her doorway, +and her prompt support was forthcoming. + +"Yes," she said, and her eyes sought those of her spoiled son. "For my +sake, Alec, for your father's, for your sister's." + +Ailsa Mowbray was pleading where she had the right to command. And to +himself Father José mildly anathematized the necessity. + +Alec turned away with a scarcely smothered imprecation. But his +mother's appeal had had the effect Murray had desired. Therefore he +came to the boy's side in the friendliest fashion, his smile once more +restored to the features so made for smiling. + +"Say, Alec," he cried, "will you bear a hand with the arms and stuff? +I need to get right away quick." + +And strangely enough the young man choked back his disappointment, and +the memory of the trader's overbearing manner. He acquiesced without +further demur. But then this spoilt boy was only spoiled and weak. +His temper was hot, volcanic. His reckless disposition was the outcome +of a generous, unthinking courage. In his heart the one thing that +mattered was his father's peril, and the sadness in his mother's eyes. +Then he had read that letter. + +"Yes," he said. "Tell me, and I'll do all you need. But for God's +sake don't treat me like a silly kid." + +"It was you who treated yourself as one," put in Father José, before +Murray could reply. "Remember, my son, men don't put women-folk into +the care of 'silly kids.'" + + +It was characteristic of Murray McTavish that the loaded canoes cast +off from the Mission landing at the appointed time. For all the haste +nothing was forgotten, nothing neglected. The canoes were loaded down +with arms and ammunition divided into thirty packs. There were also +thirty packs of provisions, enough to last the necessary time. There +were two canoes, long, narrow craft, built for speed on the swift +flowing river. Keewin commanded the leading vessel. Murray sat in the +stern of the other. In each boat there were fourteen paddles, and a +man for bow "lookout." + +It was an excellent relief force. It was a force trimmed down to the +bone. Not one detail of spare equipment was allowed. This was a +fighting dash, calculating for its success upon its rapidity of +movement. + +There had been no farewell or verbal "Godspeed." The old priest had +watched them go. + +He saw the round figure of Murray in the stern of the rear boat. He +watched it out of sight. The figure had made no movement. There had +been no looking back. Then the old man, with a shake of the head, +betook himself back through the avenue of lank trees to the Mission. +He was troubled. + +The glowing eyes of Murray gazed out straight ahead of him. He sat +silent, immovable, it seemed, in the boat. That curious burning light, +so noticeable when his strange eyes became concentrated, was more +deeply lurid than ever. It gave him now an intense aspect of +fierceness, even ferocity. He looked more than capable, as he had +said, of driving his men, the whole expedition, to the "limit." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ON BELL RIVER + +It was an old log shanty. Its walls were stout and aged. Its roof was +flat, and sloped back against the hillside on which it stood. Its +setting was an exceedingly limited plateau, thrusting upon the +precipitous incline which overlooked the gorge of the Bell River. + +The face of the plateau was sheer. The only approaches to it were +right and left, and from the hill above, where the dark woods crowded. +A stockade of heavy trunks, felled on the spot, and adapted where they +fell, had been hastily set up. It was primitive, but in addition to +the natural defences, and with men of resolution behind it, it formed +an almost adequate fortification. + +The little fortress was high above the broad river. It was like an +eyrie of creatures of the air rather than the last defences of a party +of human beings. Yet such it was. It was the last hope of its +defenders, faced by a horde of blood-crazed savages who lusted only for +slaughter. + +Five grimly silent men lined the stockade at the most advantageous +points. Five more lay about, huddled under blankets for warmth, +asleep. A single watcher had screened himself upon the roof of the +shack, whence his keen eyes could sweep the gorge from end to end. All +these were dusky creatures of a superior Indian race. Every one of +them was a descendant of the band of Sioux Indians which fled to Canada +after the Custer massacre. Inside the hut was the only white man of +the party. + +A perfect silence reigned just now. There was a lull in the attack. +The Indians crowding the woods below had ceased their futile fire. +Perhaps they were holding a council. Perhaps they were making new +dispositions for a fresh attack. The men at the defences relaxed no +vigilance. The man on the roof noted and renoted every detail of +importance to the defence which the scene presented. The man inside +the hut alone seemed, at the moment, to be taking no part in the +enactment of the little drama. + +Yet it was he who was the genius of it all. It was he who claimed the +devotion of these lean, fighting Indians. It was he who had contrived +thus far to hold at bay a force of at least five hundred Indians, +largely armed with modern firearms. It was he who had led the faithful +remnant of his outfit, in a desperate night sortie, from his +indefensible camp on the river, and, by a reckless dash, had succeeded +in reaching this temporary haven. + +But he had been supported by his half civilized handful of creatures +who well enough knew what mercy to expect from the enemy. And, anyway, +they had been bred of a stock with a fighting history second to no race +in the world. To a man, the defenders were prepared to sell their +lives at a heavy price. And they would die rifle in hand and facing +the enemy. + +The man inside called to the watcher on the roof. + +"Anything doing, Keewin?" + +"Him quiet. Him see no man. Maybe him make heap pow-wow." + +"No sign, eh?" + +"Not nothin', boss." + +Allan Mowbray turned again to the sheet of paper spread out on the lid +of an ammunition box which was laid across his knees. He was sitting +on a sack of flour. All about him the stores they had contrived to +bring away were lying on the ground. It was small enough supply. But +they had not dared to overload in the night rush to their present +quarters. + +He read over what he had written. Then he turned appraisingly to the +stores. His blue eyes were steady and calculating. There was no other +expression in them. + +There was a suggestion of the Viking of old about this northern trader. +His fair hair, quite untouched with the gray due to his years, his +fair, curling beard, and whiskers, and moustache, his blue eyes and +strong aquiline nose. These things, combined with a massive physique, +without an ounce of spare flesh, left an impression in the mind of +fearless courage and capacity. He was a fighting man to his fingers' +tips--when need demanded. + +He turned back to his writing. It was a labored effort, not for want +of skill, but for the reason he had no desire to fret the heart of the +wife to whom it was addressed. + +At last the letter was completed. He signed it, and read it carefully +through, considering each sentence as to effect. + + +"_Bell River_. + +"MY DEAREST WIFE: + +"I've had a more than usually successful trip, till I came here. Now +things are not so good." + + +He glanced up out of the doorway, and a shadowy smile lurked in the +depths of his eyes. Then he turned again to the letter: + + +"I've already written Murray for help, but I guess the letter's kind of +miscarried. He hasn't sent the help. Star-man took the letter. So +now I'm writing you, and sending it by Keewin. If anybody can get +through it's Keewin. The Bell River Indians have turned on me. I +can't think why. Anyway, I need help. If it's to do any good it's got +to come along right away. I needn't say more to you. Tell Murray. +Give my love to Jessie and Alec. I'd like to see them again. Guess I +shall, if the help gets through--in time. God bless you, Ailsa, dear. +I shall make the biggest fight for it I know. It's five hundred or so +to ten. It'll be a tough scrap before we're through. + +"Your loving + +"ALLAN." + + +He folded the sheet of paper in an abstracted fashion. For some +seconds he held it in his fingers as though weighing the advisability +of sending it. Then his abstraction passed, and he summoned the man on +the roof. + +A moment or two later Keewin appeared in the doorway, tall, wiry, his +broad, impassive face without a sign. + +"Say, Keewin," the white chief began, "we need to get word through to +the Fort. Guess Star-man's dead, hey?" + +"Star-man plenty good scout. Boss Murray him no come. Maybe Star-man +all kill dead. So." + +"That's how I figger." + +Allan Mowbray paused and glanced back at the trifling stores. + +"No much food, hey? No much ammunition. One week--two weeks--maybe." + +"Maybe." + +The Indian looked squarely into his chief's eyes. The latter held up +his letter. + +"Who's going? Indians kill him--sure. Who goes?" + +"Keewin." + +The reply came without a sign. Not a movement of a muscle, or the +flicker of an eyelid. + +The white man breathed deeply. It was a sign of emotion which he was +powerless to deny. His eyes regarded the dusky face for some moments. +Then he spoke with profound conviction. + +"You haven't a dog's chance--gettin' through," he said. + +The information did not seem to require a reply, so far as the Indian +was concerned. The white man went on: + +"It's mad--crazy--but it's our only chance." + +The persistence of his chief forced the Indian to reiterate his +determination. + +"Keewin--him go." + +The tone of the reply was almost one of indifference. It suggested +that the white man was making quite an unnecessary fuss. + +Allan Mowbray nodded. There was a look in his eyes that said far more +than words. He held out his letter. The Indian took it. He turned it +over. Then from his shirt pocket he withdrew a piece of buckskin. He +carefully wrapped it about the paper, and bestowed it somewhere within +his shirt. + +The white man watched him in silence. When the operation was complete +he abruptly thrust out one powerful hand. Just for an instant a gleam +of pleasure lit the Indian's dark eyes. He gingerly responded. Then, +as the two men gripped, the "spat" of rifle-fire began again. There +was a moment in which the two men stood listening. Then their hands +fell apart. + +"Great feller--Keewin!" said Mowbray kindly. + +Nor was the white man speaking for the benefit of a lesser +intelligence, nor in the manner of the patronage of a faithful servant. +He meant his words literally. He meant more--much more than he said. + +The rifle fire rattled up from below. The bullets whistled in every +direction. The firing was wild, as is most Indian firing. A bullet +struck the lintel of the door, and embedded itself deeply in the +woodwork just above Keewin's head. + +Keewin glanced up. He pointed with a long, brown finger. + +"Neche damn fool. No shoot. Keewin go. Keewin laugh. Bell River +Indian all damn fool. So." + +It was the white man who had replaced the Indian at the lookout on the +roof. He was squatting behind a roughly constructed shelter. His +rifle was beside him and a belt full of ammunition was strapped about +his waist. + +The wintry sky was steely in the waning daylight. Snow had fallen. +Only a slight fall for the region, but it had covered everything to the +depth of nearly a foot. The whole aspect of the world had changed. +The dark, forbidding gorge of the Bell River no longer frowned up at +the defenders of the plateau. It was glistening, gleaming white, and +the dreary pine trees bowed their tousled heads under a burden of snow. +The murmur of the river no longer came up to them. Already three +inches of ice had imprisoned it, stifling its droning voice under its +merciless grip. + +Attack on attack had been hurled against the white man and his little +band of Indians. For days there had been no respite. The attacks had +come from below, from the slopes of the hill above, from the approach +on either side. Each attack had been beaten off. Each attack had +taken its heavy toll of the enemy. But there had been toll taken from +the defenders, a toll they could ill afford. There were only eight +souls all told in the log fortress now. Eight half-starved creatures +whose bones were beginning to thrust at the fleshless skin. + +Allan Mowbray's hollow eyes scanned the distant reaches of the gorge +where it opened out southward upon low banks. His straining gaze was +searching for a sign--one faint glimmer of hope. All his plans were +laid. Nothing had been left to the chances of his position. His +calculations had been deliberate and careful. He had known from the +beginning, from the moment he had realized the full possibilities of +his defence, that the one thing which could defeat him was--hunger. +Once the enemy realized this, and acted on it, their doom, unless +outside help came in time, was sealed. His enemies had realized it. + +There were no longer any attacks. Only desultory firing. But a cordon +had been drawn around the fortress, and the process of starvation had +set in. + +He was giving his Fate its last chance now. If the sign of help he was +seeking did not appear before the feeble wintry light had passed then +the die was cast. + +The minutes slipped by. The meagre light waned. The sign had not +come. As the last of the day merged into the semi-arctic night he left +his lookout and wearily lowered himself to the ground. His men were +gathered, huddled in their blankets for warmth, about a small fire +burning within the hut. + +Allan Mowbray imparted his tidings in the language of the men who +served him. With silent stoicism the little band of defenders listened +to the end. + +Keewin, he told them, had had time to get through. Full time to reach +the Fort, and return with the help he had asked for. That help should +have been with them three days ago. It had not come. Keewin, he +assured them, must have been killed. Nothing could otherwise have +prevented the help reaching them. He told them that if they remained +there longer they would surely die of hunger and cold. They would die +miserably. + +He paused for comment. None was forthcoming. His only reply was the +splutter of the small fire which they dared not augment. + +So he went on. + +He told them he had decided, if they would follow him, to die fighting, +or reach the open with whatever chances the winter trail might afford +them. He told them he was a white man who was not accustomed to bend +to the will of the northern Indian. They might break him, but he would +not bend. He reminded them they were Sioux, children of the great +Sitting Bull. He reminded them that death in battle was the glory of +the Indian. That no real Sioux would submit to starvation. + +This time his words were received with definite acclamation. So he +proceeded to his plans. + +Half an hour later the last of the stores was being consumed by men who +had not had an adequate meal for many days. + + +The aurora lit the night sky. The northern night had set in to the +fantastic measure of the ghostly dance of the polar spirits. The air +was still, and the temperature had fallen headlong. The pitiless cold +was searching all the warm life left vulnerable to its attack. The +shadowed eyes of night looked down upon the world through a gray +twilight of calculated melancholy. + +The cold peace of the elements was unshared by the striving human +creatures peopling the great white wilderness over which it brooded. +War to the death was being fought out under the eyes of the dancing +lights, and the twinkling contentment of the pallid world of stars. + +A small bluff of lank trees reared its tousled snow-crowned head above +the white heart of a wide valley. It was where the gorge of the Bell +River opened out upon low banks. It was where the only trail of the +region headed westwards. The bowels of the bluff were defended by a +meagre undergrowth, which served little better purpose than to +partially conceal them. About this bluff a ring of savages had formed. +Low-type savages of smallish stature, and of little better intelligence +than the predatory creatures who roamed the wild. + +With every passing moment the ring drew closer, foot by foot, yard by +yard. + +Inside the bluff prone forms lay hidden under the scrub. And only the +flash of rifle, and the biting echoes of its report, told of the epic +defence that was being put up. But for all the effort the movement of +the defenders, before the closing ring, was retrograde, always +retrograde towards the centre. + +Slowly but inevitably the ring grew smaller about the bluff. Numbers +of its ranks dropped out, and still forms littered the ground over +which it had passed. But each and every gap thus made was +automatically closed as the human ring drew in. + +The last phase began. The ring was no longer visible outside the +bluff. It had passed the outer limits, and entered the scrub. In the +centre, in the very heart of it, six Indians and a white man crouched +back to back--always facing the advancing enemy. Volley after volley +was flung wildly at them from every side, regardless of comrade, +regardless of everything but the lust to kill. The tumult of battle +rose high. The demoniac yells filled the air to the accompaniment of +an incessant rattle of rifle fire. The Bell River horde knew that at +last their lust was to be satisfied. So their triumph rose in a +vicious chorus upon the still air, and added its terror to the night. + +The defenders were further reduced to four. The white man had +abandoned his rifle. Now he stood erect, a revolver in each hand, in +the midst of the remainder of his faithful band. He was wounded in +many places. Nor had the Indians with him fared better. Warm blood +streamed from gaping wounds which were left unheeded. For the fight +was to the finish, and not one of them but would have it so. + +Nor was the end far off. It came swiftly, ruthlessly. It came with a +ferocious chorus from throats hoarse with their song of battle. It +came with a wild headlong rush, that recked nothing of the storm of +fire with which it was met. A dozen lifeless bodies piled themselves +before the staunch resistance. It made no difference. The avalanche +swept on, and over the human barricade, till it reached striking +distance for its crude native weapons. + +Allan Mowbray saw each of his last three men go down in a welter of +blood. His pistols were empty and useless. There was a moment of wild +physical struggle. Then, the next, he was borne down under the rush, +and life was literally hacked out of him. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE NIGHT + +The living-room in Ailsa Mowbray's home was full of that comfort which +makes life something more than a mere existence in places where the +elements are wholly antagonistic. The big square wood-stove was tinted +ruddily by the fierce heat of the blazing logs within. Carefully +trimmed oil lamps shed a mellow, but ample, light upon furnishings of +unusual quality. The polished red pine walls reflected the warmth of +atmosphere prevailing. And thick furs, spread over the well-laid green +block flooring, suggested a luxury hardly to be expected. + +The furniture was stout, and heavy, and angular, possessing that air of +strength, as well as comfort, which the modern mission type always +presents. The ample central table, too, was significant of the open +hospitality the mistress of it all loved to extend to the whole post, +and even to those chance travelers who might be passing through on the +bitter northern trail. + +Ailsa Mowbray had had her wish since the passing of the days when it +had been necessary to share in the labors of her husband. The simple +goal of her life had been a home of comfort for her growing children, +and a wealth of hospitality for those who cared to taste of it. + +The long winter night had already set in, and she was seated before the +stove in a heavy rocking-chair. Her busy fingers were plying her +needle, a work she loved in spite of the hard training of her early +days in the north. At the other side of the glowing stove Jessie was +reading one of the books with which Father José kept her supplied. The +wind was moaning desolately about the house. The early snowfall was +being drifted into great banks in the hollows. Up on the hilltop, +where the stockade of the Fort frowned out upon the world, the moaning +was probably translated into a tense, steady howl. + +The mother glanced at the clock which stood on the bureau near by. It +was nearly seven. Alec would be in soon from his work up at the store, +that hour of work which he faced so reluctantly after the evening meal +had been disposed of. In half an hour, too, Father José would be +coming up from the Mission. She was glad. It would help to keep her +from thinking. + +She sighed and glanced quickly over at her daughter. Jessie was poring +over her book. The sight of such absorption raised a certain feeling +of irritation in the mother. It seemed to her that Jessie could too +easily throw off the trouble besetting them all. She did not know that +the girl was fighting her own battle in her own way. She did not know +that her interest in her book was partly feigned. Nor was she aware +that the girl's effort was not only for herself, but to help the mother +she was unconsciously offending. + +The anxious waiting for Murray's return had been well-nigh unbearable. +These people, all the folk on Snake River, knew the dangers and chances +of the expedition. Confidence in Murray was absolute, but still it +left a wide margin for disaster. They had calculated to the finest +fraction the time that must elapse before his return. Three weeks was +the minimum, and the three weeks had already terminated three nights +ago. It was this which had set the mother's nerves on edge. It was +this knowledge which kept Jessie's eyes glued to the pages of her book. +It was this which made the contemplation of the later gathering of the +men in that living-room a matter for comparative satisfaction to Ailsa +Mowbray. + +Her needle passed to and fro under her skilful hands. There was almost +feverish haste in its movements. So, too, the pages of Jessie's book +seemed to be turned all too frequently. + +At last the mother's voice broke the silence. + +"It's storming," she said. + +"Yes, mother." Jessie had glanced up. But her eyes fell to her book +at once. + +"But it--won't stop them any." The mother's words lacked conviction. +Then, as if she realized that this was so, she went on more firmly. +"But Murray drives hard on the trail. And Allan--it would need a +bigger storm than this to stop him. If the river had kept open they'd +have made better time." She sighed her regret for the ice. + +"Yes, mother." Jessie again glanced up. This time her pretty eyes +observed her mother more closely. She noted the drawn lines about the +soft mouth, the deep indentation between the usually serene brows. She +sighed, and the pain at her own heart grew sharper. + +Quite suddenly the mother raised her head and dropped her sewing in her +lap. + +"Oh, child, child, I--I could cry at this--waiting," she cried in +desperate distress. "I'm scared! Oh, I'm scared to death. Scared as +I've never been before. But things--things can't have happened. I +tell you I won't believe that way. No--no! I won't. I won't. Oh, +why don't they get around? Why doesn't he come?" + +The girl laid her book aside. Her movement was markedly calm. Then +she steadily regarded her troubled mother. + +"Don't, mother, dear," she cried. "You mustn't. 'Deed you mustn't." +Her tone was a gentle but decided reproof. "We've figured it clear +out. All of us together. Father José and Alec, too. They're men, and +cleverer at that sort of thing than we are. Father José reckons the +least time Murray needs to get back in is three weeks. It's only three +days over. There's no sort of need to get scared for a week yet." + +The reproof was well calculated. It was needed. So Jessie understood. +Jessie possessed all her mother's strength of character, and had in +addition the advantage of her youth. + +Her mother was abashed at her own display of weakness. She was abashed +that it should be necessary for her own child to reprove her. She +hastily picked up her work again. + +But Jessie had abandoned her reading for good. She leaned forward in +her chair, gazing meditatively at a glowing, red-hot spot on the side +of the stove. + +Suddenly she voiced the train of thought which had held her occupied so +long. + +"Why does our daddy make Bell River, mother?" she demanded. "It's a +question I'm always asking myself. He's told me it's not a place for +man, devil, or trader. Yet he goes there. Say, he makes Bell River +every year. Why? He doesn't get pelts there. He once said he'd hate +to send his worst enemy up there. Yet he goes. Why? That's how I'm +always asking. Say, mother, you ran this trade with our daddy before +Murray came. You know why he goes there. You never say. Nor does +daddy. Nor Murray. Is--it a secret?" + +Ailsa replied without raising her eyes. + +"It's not for you to ask me," she said almost coldly. + +But Jessie was in no mood to be easily put off. + +"Maybe not, mother," she replied readily. "But you know, I guess. I +wonder. Well, I'm not going to ask for daddy's secrets. I just know +there is a secret to Bell River. And that secret is between you, and +him, and Murray. That's why Alec had to stop right here at the Fort. +Maybe it's a dangerous secret, since you keep it so close. But it +doesn't matter. All I know our daddy is risking his life every time he +hits the Bell River trail, and, secret or no secret, I ask is it right? +Is it worth while? If anything happened to our daddy you'd never, +never forgive yourself letting him risk his life where he wouldn't send +his worst enemy.'" + +The mother laid her work aside. Nor did she speak while she folded the +material deliberately, carefully. + +When at last she turned her eyes in her daughter's direction Jessie was +horrified at the change in them. They were haggard, hopeless, with a +misery of suspense and conviction of disaster. + +"It's no use, child," she said decidedly. "Don't ask me a thing. If +you guess there's a secret to Bell River--forget it. Anyway, it's not +my secret. Say, you think I can influence our daddy. You think I can +persuade him to quit getting around Bell River." She shook her head. +"I can't. No, child. I can't, nor could you, nor could anybody. Your +father's the best husband in the world. And I needn't tell you his +kindness and generosity. He's all you've ever believed him, and +more--much more. He's a big man, so big, you and I'll never even +guess. But just as he's all we'd have him in our lives, so he's all he +needs to be on the bitter northern trail. The secrets of that trail +are his. Nothing'll drag them out of him. Whatever I know, child, +I've had to pay for the knowing. Bell River's been my nightmare years +and years. I've feared it as I've feared nothing else. And now--oh, +it's dreadful. Say, child, for your father's sake leave Bell River out +of your thoughts, out of your talk. Never mention that you think of +any secret. As I said, 'forget it.'" + +Her mother's distress, and obvious dread impressed the girl seriously. +She nodded her head. + +"I'll never speak of it, mother," she assured her. "I'll try to forget +it. But why--oh, why should he make you endure these years of +nightmare? I----" + +Her mother abruptly held up a finger. + +"Hush! There's Father José." + +There was the sharp rattle of a lifted latch, and the slam-to of the +outer storm door. They heard the stamping of feet as the priest freed +his overshoes of snow. A moment later the inner door was pushed open. + +Father José greeted them out of the depths of his fur coat collar. + +"A bad night, ma'am," he said gravely. "The folks on the trail will +feel it--cruel." + +The little man divested himself of his coat. + +"The folk on the trail? Is there any news?" Ailsa Mowbray's tone said +far more than her mere words. + +Jessie had risen from her chair and crossed to her mother's side. She +stood now with a hand resting on the elder woman's shoulder. And the +priest, observing them as he advanced to the stove, and held his hands +to the comforting warmth, was struck by the twin-like resemblance +between them. + +Their beauty was remarkable. The girl's oval cheeks were no more +perfect in general outline than her mother's. Her sweet gray eyes were +no softer, warmer. The youthful lips, so ripe and rich, only possessed +the advantage of her years. The priest remembered Allan Mowbray's wife +at her daughter's age, and so he saw even less difference between them +than time had imposed. + +"That's what I've been along up to see Alec at the store for. Alec's +gone out with a dog team to bear a hand--if need be." + +The white-haired man turned his back on the stove and faced the +spacious room. He withdrew a snuffbox from his semi-clerical vest +pocket, and thoughtfully tapped it with a forefinger. Then he helped +himself to a large pinch of snuff. As far as the folks on Snake River +knew this was the little priest's nearest approach to vice. + +"Alec gone out? You never told us?" Ailsa Mowbray's eyes searched the +sharp profile of the man, whose face was deliberately averted. "Tell +me," she demanded. "You've had news. Bad? Is it bad? Tell me! Tell +me quickly!" + +The man fumbled in an inner pocket and produced a folded paper. He +opened it, and gazed at it silently. Then he passed it to the wife, +whose hands were held out and trembling. + +"I've had this. It came in by runner. The poor wretch was badly +frost-bitten. It's surely a cruel country." + +But Ailsa Mowbray was not heeding him. Nor was Jessie. Both women +were examining the paper, and its contents. The mother read it aloud. + + +"DEAR FATHER JOSE: + +"We'll make the Fort to-morrow night if the weather holds. Can you +send out dogs and a sled? Have things ready for us. + +"MURRAY." + + +During the reading the priest helped himself to another liberal pinch +of snuff. Then he produced a great colored handkerchief, and trumpeted +violently into it. But he was watching the women closely out of the +corners of his hawk-like eyes. + +Ailsa read the brief note a second time, but to herself. Then, with +hands which had become curiously steady, she refolded it, retaining it +in her possession with a strangely detached air. It was almost as if +she had forgotten it, and that her thoughts had flown in a direction +which had nothing to do with the letter, or the Padre, or---- + +But Jessie came at the man in a tone sharpened by the intensity of her +feelings. + +"Say, Father, there's no more than that note? The runner? Did he tell +you--anything? You--you questioned him?" + +"Yes." + +Suddenly the mother took a step forward. One of her hands closed upon +the old priest's arm with a grip that made him wince. + +"The truth, Father," she demanded, in a tone that would not be denied. +Her eyes were wide and full of a desperate conviction. "Quick, the +truth! What was there that Murray didn't write in that note? Allan? +What of Allan? Did he reach him? Is--is he dead? Why did he want +that sled? Tell me. Tell it all, quick!" + +She was breathing hard. Her desperate fear was heart-breaking. Jessie +remained silent, but her eyes were lit by a sudden terror no less than +her mother's. + +Suddenly the priest faced the stove again. He gazed down at it for a +fraction of time. Then he turned to the woman he had known in her +girlhood, and his eyes were lit with infinite kindness, infinite grief +and sympathy. + +"Yes," he said in a low voice. "There was a verbal message for my ears +alone. Murray feared for you. The shock. So he told me. Allan----" + +"Is dead!" Ailsa Mowbray whispered the words, as one who knows but +cannot believe. + +"Is dead." The priest was gazing down at the stove once more. + +No word broke the silence of the room. The fire continued to roar up +the stovepipe. The moaning of the wind outside deplorably emphasized +the desolation of the home. For once it harmonized with the note of +despair which flooded the hearts of these people. + +It was Jessie who first broke down under the cruel lash of Fate. She +uttered a faint cry. Then a desperate sob choked her. + +"Oh, daddy, daddy!" she cried, like some grief-stricken child. + +In a moment she was clasped to the warm bosom of the woman who had been +robbed of a husband. + +Not a tear fell from the eyes of the mother. She stood still, silent, +exerting her last atom of moral strength in support of her child. + +Father José stirred. His eyes rested for a moment upon the two women. +A wonderfully tender, misty light shone in their keen depths. No word +of his could help them now, he knew. So with soundless movement he +resumed his furs and overshoes, and, in silence, passed out into the +night. + + +The wind howled against the ramparts of the Fort. It swept in through +the open gates, whistling its fierce glee as it buffeted the staunch +buildings thus uncovered to its merciless blast. The black night air +was alive with a fog of snow, swept up in a sort of stinging, frozen +dust. The lights of Nature had been extinguished, blotted out by the +banking storm-clouds above. It seemed as though this devil's +playground had been cleared of every intrusion so that the riot of the +northern demons might be left complete. + +A fur-clad figure stood within the great gateway. The pitiful glimmer +of a lantern swung from his mitted hand. His eyes, keen, penetrating, +in spite of the blinding snow, searched the direction where the trail +flowed down from the Fort. He was waiting, still, silent, in the howl +of the storm. + +A sound came up the hill. It was a sound which had nothing to do with +the storm. It was the voices of men, urgent, strident. A tiny spark +suddenly grew out of the blackness. It was moving, swinging +rhythmically. A moment later shadowy figures moved in the darkness. +They were vague, uncertain. But they came, following closely upon the +spark of light, which was borne in the hand of a man on snowshoes. + +The fur-clad figure swung his lantern to and fro. He moved himself +from post to post of the great gateway. Then he stood in his original +position. + +The spark of light came on. It was another lantern, borne in the hand +of another fur-clad figure. It passed through the gateway. A string +of panting dogs followed close behind, clawing at the ground for +foothold, bellies low to the ground as they hauled at the rawhide tugs +which harnessed them to their burden behind. One by one they passed +the waiting figure. One by one they were swallowed up by the blackness +within the Fort. Five in all were counted. Then came a long dark +shape, which glided over the snow with a soft, hissing sound. + +The waiting man made a sign with his mitted hand as the shape passed +him. His lips moved in silent prayer. Then he turned to the gates. +They swung to. The heavy bars lumbered into their places under his +guidance. Then, as though in the bitterness of disappointment, the +howling gale flung itself with redoubled fury against them, till the +stout timbers creaked and groaned under the wanton attack. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOHN KARS + +Seven months of dreadful winter had passed. Seven months since the +mutilated body of Allan Mowbray had been packed home by dog-train to +its last resting place within the storm-swept Fort he had labored so +hard to serve. It was the open season again. That joyous season of +the annual awakening of the northern world from its nightmare of stress +and storm, a nightmare which drives human vitality down to the very +limit of its mental and physical endurance. + +Father José and Ailsa Mowbray had been absent from the post for the +last three months of the winter. Their return from Leaping Horse, the +golden heart of the northern wild, had occurred at the moment when the +ice-pack had vanished from the rivers, and the mud-sodden trail had +begun to harden under the brisk, drying winds of spring. They had made +the return journey at the earliest moment, before the summer movements +of the glacial fields had converted river and trail into a constant +danger for the unwary. + +Allan Mowbray had left his affairs in Father José's hands. They were +as simple and straight as a simple man could make them. The will had +contained no mention of his partner, Murray's name, except in the way +of thanks. To the little priest he had confided the care of his +bereaved family. And it was obvious, from the wording of his will, +that the burden thus imposed upon his lifelong friend had been +willingly undertaken. + +His wishes were clear, concise. All his property, all his business +interests were for his wife. Apart from an expressed desire that Alec +should be given a salaried appointment in the work of the post during +his mother's lifetime, and that at her death the boy should inherit, +unconditionally, her share of the business, and the making of a +monetary provision for his daughter, Jessie, the disposal of his +worldly goods was quite unconditional. + +Father José had known the contents of the will beforehand. In fact, he +had helped his old friend in his decisions. Nor had Alec's position +been decided upon without his advice. These two men understood the boy +too well to chance helping to spoil his life by an ample, unearned +provision. They knew the weak streak in his character, and had decided +to give him a chance, by the process of time, to obtain that balance +which might befit him for the responsibility of a big commercial +enterprise. + +When Murray learned the position of affairs he offered no comment. +Without demur he concurred in every proposition set before him by +Father José. He rendered the little man every assistance in his power +in the work which had been so suddenly thrust upon his shoulders. + +So it was that more than one-half of the winter was passed in delving +into the accounts of the enterprise Allan and his partner had built up, +while the other, the second half, was spent by Mrs. Mowbray and Father +José at Leaping Horse, where the ponderous legal machinery was set in +motion for the final settlement of the estate. + +For Father José the work was not without its compensations. His grief +at Allan's dreadful end had been almost overwhelming, and the work in +which he found himself involved had come as a help at the moment it was +most needed. Then there was Ailsa, and Jessie, and Alec. His work +helped to keep him from becoming a daily witness of their terrible +distress. Furthermore, there were surprises for him in the pages of +the great ledgers at the Fort. Surprises of such a nature that he +began to wonder if he were still living in the days of miracles, or if +he were simply the victim of hallucination. + +He found that Allan was rich, rich beyond his most exaggerated dreams. +He found that this obscure fur post carried on a wealth of trade which +might have been the envy of a corporation a hundred times its size. He +found that for years a stream of wealth had been pouring into the +coffers at the post in an ever-growing tide. He found that +seven-tenths of it was Allan's, and that Murray McTavish considered +himself an amply prosperous man on the remaining three-tenths. + +Where did it all come from? How did it come about? He expressed no +wonder to anybody. He gave no outward sign of his astonishment. There +was a secret. There must be a secret. But the books yielded up no +secret. Only the broad increasing tide of a trade which coincided with +the results. But he felt for all their simple, indisputable figures, +they concealed in their pages a cleverly hidden secret, a profound +secret, which must alone have been shared by the partners, and possibly +Ailsa Mowbray. Allan Mowbray's fortune, apart from the business, +closely approximated half a million dollars. It was incredible. It +was so stupendous as to leave the simple little priest quite +overwhelmed. + +However, with due regard for his friendship, he spared himself nothing. +Nothing was neglected. Nothing was left undone in his stewardship. +And so, within seven months of Allan's disastrous end, he found himself +once more free to turn to the simple cares of the living in his +administration of the Mission on Snake River, which was the sum total +of his life's ambition and work. + +His duty to the dead was done. And it seemed to his plain thinking +mind that the episode should have been closed forever. But it was not. +Moreover, he knew it was not. How he knew was by no means clear. +Somehow he felt that the end was far off, somewhere in the dim future. +Somehow he felt that he was only at the beginning of things. A secret +lay concealed under his friend's great wealth, and the thought of it +haunted him. It warned him, too, and left him pondering deeply. +However, he did not talk, not even to his friend's widow. + + +The round form of Murray McTavish filled the office chair to +overflowing. For a man of his energy and capacity, for a man so +perfectly equipped, mentally, and in spirit, for the fierce battle of +the northern latitudes, it was a grotesque freak of Nature that his +form, so literally corpulent, should be so inadequate. However, there +it was. And Nature, seeming to realize the anachronism, had done her +best to repair her blunder. If he were laboring under a superfluity of +adipose, she had equipped him with muscles of steel and lungs of +tremendous expansion, a fierce courage, and nerves of a tempering such +as she rarely bestowed. + +He was smoking a strong cigar and reading a letter in a decided +handwriting. It was a man's letter, and it was of a business nature. +Yet though it entailed profit for its recipient it seemed to inspire no +satisfaction. + +The big eyes were a shade wider than usual. Their glowing depths +burned more fiercely. He was stirred, and the secret of his feelings +lay in the signature at the end of the letter. It was a signature that +Murray McTavish disliked. + +"John Kars," he muttered aloud. + +There was no friendliness in his tone. There was no friendliness in +the eyes which were raised from the letter and turned on the deep-set +window overlooking the open gates beyond. + +For some silent moments he sat there thinking deeply. He continued to +smoke, his gaze abstractedly fixed upon the blue film which floated +before it upon the still air. Gradually the dislike seemed to pass out +of his eyes. The fire in them to die down. Something almost like a +smile replaced it, a smile for which his face was so perfect a setting. +But his smile would have been difficult to describe. Perhaps it was +one of pleasure. Perhaps it was touched with irony. Perhaps, even, it +was the smile, the dangerous smile of a man who is fiercely resentful. +It was a curiosity in Murray that his smile could at any time be +interpreted into an expression of any one of the emotions. + +But suddenly there came an interruption. In a moment his abstraction +was banished. He sprang alertly from his chair and moved to the door +which he held open. He had seen the handsome figure of Ailsa Mowbray +pass his window. Now she entered the office in response to his silent +invitation. She took the chair which always stood ready before a +second desk. It was the desk which had been Allan Mowbray's, and which +now was used by his son. + +"I've come to talk about Alec," the mother said, turning her chair +about, and facing the man who was once more at his desk. + +"Sure." The man nodded. His smile had vanished. His look was all +concern. He knew, none better than he, that Alec must be discussed +between them. + +Ailsa Mowbray had aged in the seven months since her husband's death. +She had aged considerably. Her spirit, her courage, were undiminished, +but the years had at last levied the toll which a happy wifehood had +denied them. Nor was Murray unobservant of these things. His partner +in the fortunes of Fort Mowbray was an old woman. + +"There's difficulty," the mother went on, her handsome eyes averting +their gaze towards the window. "Allan didn't reckon on the boy when he +said he should have a position right here." + +Murray shook his head. + +"No," he said. "Guess that desk's been closed down since the season +opened. He's brought in half a hundred pelts to his own gun, and +guesses he's carrying on his father's work." There was a biting irony +in the man's tone. + +Ailsa Mowbray sighed. + +"He doesn't seem to like settling to the work here." + +It was some moments before Murray replied. His big eyes were deeply +reflective. The fire in their depths seemed to come and go under +varying emotions. His eyes were at all times expressive, but their +expressions could rarely be read aright. + +"He's troubled with youth, ma'am," he said, as though at last arrived +at a definite conclusion, "and he needs to get shut of it before he can +be of use to himself, or--to us. You'll excuse me if I talk plain. +I've got to talk plain, right here and now. Maybe it hasn't occurred +to either of us before just what it means to our enterprise Allan being +gone. It means a mighty big heap, so almighty big I can only just see +over the top. I take it you'll get me when I say this thing can't be +run by a woman. It needs to be run by a man, and, seeing Alec don't +figger to set around in this store, I've got to do most of it--with +your help. Y'see, ma'am, there's just two sides to this proposition. +Either we run it together, or you sell out to me. Anyway, I'm not +selling. I'll take it you'll say we run it together. Good. Then it's +up to me to do the man's work, while you, I guess, won't have forgotten +the work you had to do before I came. If you feel like fixing things +that way I guess we can make good till this boy, Alec, forgets he's a +kid, and we can hand him all Allan didn't choose to hand him during his +life. Get me? Meanwhile we're going to help the boy get over his +youth by letting him get his nose outside this region, and see a live +city where things happen plenty, and money buys a good time. That way +we'll bridge over what looks like a pretty awkward time. I take up the +work where Allan quit it, and you--well, it's all here same as it was +before I got around. I want you to feel I figger Allan left me with a +trust which I'm mighty glad to fulfil. He let me in on the ground +floor of this thing, and I don't forget it. I want to do all I know to +fix it right for those he left behind him. Maybe you'll find me rough +sometimes, maybe I don't happen to have a patience like old Job. But +I'm going to put things through, same as I know Allan would have had +them." + +The frankness of the man was completely convincing. Ailsa expanded +under the warm kindliness of his tone in a manner which surprised even +herself. Hitherto this man had never appealed to her. She knew her +husband's regard for him. She had always seen in him an astute man of +business, with a strength of purpose and capacity always to be relied +upon. But the sentiments he now expressed were surprising, and came as +a welcome display such as she would never have expected. + +"You are good to us, Murray," she said gratefully. "Maybe it won't +sound gracious, but Allan always told me I could rely on you at all +times. You've never given me reason to doubt it. But I hadn't thought +to hear you talk that way. I'm real glad we had this talk. I'm real +glad I came. I don't just know how to thank you." + +"Don't you try, ma'am," was the man's dry response. "Guess I've yet +got to show you I can make my talk good before you need to think +thanks. And, anyway, maybe the thanks'll need to come from me before +we're through." + +He picked up the letter on the desk before him, and glanced at it. +Then he flung it aside. Ailsa Mowbray waited for him to go on. But as +he gave no further sign she was forced to a question. + +"I don't understand," she said at last. "How do you mean?" + +Murray laughed. It was the easy, ready laugh the woman was accustomed +to. + +"There's some things that aren't easy to put into words. Not even to a +mother." His eyes had become serious again. "There's some things that +always make a feller feel foolish--when you put 'em into words." + +The mother's thought darted at once to the only possible interpretation +of his preamble. Her woman's instinct was alert. She waited. + +"Maybe it's not the time to talk of these things, ma'am. But--but it's +mighty difficult to figger such time when it comes along. I've got a +letter here makes me want to holler 'help.' It's from a feller we all +know, and most of us like well enough. For me, I'm scared of him. +Scared to death. He's the only man I've ever felt that way towards in +my life." + +His words were accompanied by another laugh so ringing that Ailsa +Mowbray was forced to a smile at his care-free way of stating his fears. + +"Your terror's most alarming," she said comfortably. "Will you tell me +of it?" + +"Sure." Murray picked up the letter again and stared at it. "Have you +got any feller fixed in your mind you're yearning for your daughter +Jessie to marry?" + +The question was abrupt, startling. And somehow to Ailsa Mowbray it +was as though a fierce winter blast had suddenly descended upon her +heart. + +"I--don't think I'd thought about it--seriously," the mother replied +after a pause. + +Murray swung about and faced her. His eyes were serious. There could +be no mistaking his earnestness. + +"I can't figger how you're going to take what I've got to say, ma'am. +I said the 'thanks' might be all due from me, before we're through. I +don't know. Anyway, I guess I need to get busy right away in the way +it seems to me best." + +"You want to marry--Jessie?" + +The mother's question came without any enthusiasm. There was even +coldness in it. + +"More than anything in the world, ma'am." + +The sincerity of the man was in every line of his face. It shone in +the burning depths of his eyes. It rang in the vibrant tones of his +voice. + +For a moment the mother glanced about her rather helplessly. Then she +gathered her faculties with an effort. + +"Have--have you asked her?" + +"No, ma'am." + +Ailsa Mowbray further added a helpless gesture with her hands. It +seemed to be the cue the man was awaiting. + +"No, ma'am," he reiterated. "I'd have spoken months ago, but--for the +things that's happened. Maybe you won't just get it when I say that +with Allan around the position was clear as day. It was up to me to +leave her folks till I'd asked her. Now it's different. Jessie has no +father behind her. Only her mother. And her mother has no husband +behind her to help her figger her daughter's future right. Now I come +to you, ma'am. Guess I'm a plain man more ways than one. I'm just +thirty-five. I've a goodish stake in this proposition of ours, and can +give your daughter all she needs of the world's goods. I love her, and +want her bad, ma'am. If she'll marry me, why, I'll just do all I know +to make her happy." + +The appeal was full of simple, straightforward honesty. There could be +no denying it. Even its crudity was all in its favor. But all this +passed Ailsa Mowbray completely by. + +"What made you choose this moment?" she questioned, avoiding any direct +answer. + +Murray laughed. It was a laugh which hid his real feelings. He held +up the letter. + +"John Kars is coming along up." + +"And so you spoke--before he came." + +"Sure." Suddenly Murray flung the letter on the desk in a fashion that +said more than words. "I'm scared of John Kars, ma'am, because I want +to marry your daughter. I'm no coward. But I know myself, and I know +him. Here am I ready to meet John Kars, or a dozen of his kind, in any +play known to man, except rivalry for a woman. He's got them all where +he wants them from the jumping off mark. It's only natural, too. Look +at him. If he'd stepped out of the picture frame of the Greek Gods he +couldn't have a better window dressing. He's everything a woman ever +dreamed of in a man. He's all this country demands in its battles. +Then take a peek at me. You'll find a feller cussed to death with a +figure that's an insult to a prime hog. What's inside don't figger a +cent. The woman don't look beyond the face and figure, and the +capacity to do. Maybe I can do all John Kars can do. But when it +comes to face and figure, it's not a race. No, ma'am, it's a +procession. And I'm taking his dust all the time." + +"Do you think Jessie is--likes John Kars?" The mother's question came +thoughtfully. To Murray it was evident the direction in which she was +leaning. + +"She'd need to be a crazy woman if she didn't," he retorted bluntly. + +Then he rose from his seat, and moved over to the window. He stood +gazing out of it. Ailsa Mowbray's eyes followed his movements. They +regarded him closely, and she thought of his own description of +himself. Yes, he was not beautiful. Wholesome, strong, capable. But +he was fat--so fat. A shortish, tubby man whose figure added ten years +to his age. + +But with his face towards the window, his strong tones came back to +her, and held her whole attention. + +"Yes, ma'am. She likes him. But I don't guess it's more than +that--yet. Maybe it would never become more if you discouraged it. I +could even think she'd forget to remember the queer figure I cut in the +eyes of a woman--if it suited you to tell her diff'rent. It seems a +pretty mean proposition for a feller to have to hand his love interests +over to another, even when it's the girl's mother. But whatever I can +do in the affairs of the life about us, whatever my ability, ma'am, to +put through the business side of our affairs, I guess I'm mighty short +winded in the race for a woman's love, and--know it. Say, you guessed +just now you owed me thanks for the things I figger to do for you. I'd +say if you'd feel like helping me to marry Jessie I'd owe you more +thanks on the balance than I can ever hope to pay off." + +He abruptly turned back from the window. He stepped quickly towards +her, his movements surprising in their vigor. He looked down into the +woman's handsome, but now lined, face, and his eyes shone with a +burning fire tremendously compelling. + +Ailsa felt the influence he wielded. She read the strength of the +man's emotion. She knew that for once she was being permitted a sight +of the man behind his mask of smiling serenity. Nor were these things +without effect. Furthermore, her own sense warned her that in the best +interests of their affairs, of the girl, herself, Murray McTavish was +certainly the husband for Jessie. But even so there was more than +reluctance. There was desperate distaste. The romantic vision of John +Kars, the wealthiest mine owner in Leaping Horse, the perfect +adventurer of the northern trail, rose before her eyes, and made her +hesitate. In the end, however, she thrust it aside and rose from her +chair, and held out her hand. + +"I can promise no result," she said seriously, and she knew it was +subterfuge, "I'll do my best. Anyway, your cause shan't suffer at my +hands. Will that do?" + +Murray McTavish took her warm hand in both of his. He held it tightly +for a few seconds. + +"My thanks begin from now, ma'am," he said. "I guess they'll go right +on to--the end." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING + +Jessie Mowbray left the Mission House as the last of the small crowd of +copper-hued pappooses bundled pell-mell in the direction of the teepees +and cabins of their dusky parents. + +For a few moments she stood there in the open with pensive eyes +following the movements of scurrying, toddling legs, many of them +encased in the minutest of buckskin, chap-like pantaloons and the +tiniest of beaded moccasins. It was a sight that yielded her a +tenderness of emotion that struggled hard to dispel the cloud which her +father's death had caused to settle over the joyous spirit of her young +life. + +In a measure it was not without success. The smallness of these Indian +children, their helplessness, appealed to her woman's heart as possibly +nothing else could have done. It mattered nothing to her that the +fathers and mothers of these tots belonged to a low type of race +without scruple, or honesty, or decency, or any one of the better +features of the aboriginal. They were as low, perhaps lower than many +of the beasts of the field. But these "pappooses," so quaint and +small, so very helpless, were entirely dependent upon the succor of +Father José's Mission for the hope of their future. The sight of them +warmed her spirit out of the cold depths of her own personal grief, and +left her yearning. + +The last of the children vanished within the shelter of the surrounding +woods, where the homes of their parents had been set up. Then movement +in the clearing ceased. All was still in the early evening light. The +soft charm, the peace of the Mission, which had been the outward and +visible sign of her understanding of home all her years, settled once +more, and with it fell the bitter, haunting memory of the tragedy of +seven months ago. + +To Jessie Mowbray the tragedy of the life about her had suddenly become +the seriousness of it. In one night she had been robbed of all the +buoyant optimism of youth. As yet she had failed to achieve the smile +of courage under the buffet, just as she had never yet discovered that +the real spirit of life is to achieve hard knocks with the same ready +smile which should accompany acts of kindliness. + +Her father had been her hero. And she had been robbed of her hero by +the ruthless hands of the very savages whom it was her daily mission to +help towards enlightenment. The bitterness of it had sunk deeply into +a sensitive heart. She lacked the experiences of life of her mother. +She lacked the Christian fortitude of Father José. She knew nothing of +the iron nerve of Murray, or the youthful selfishness of her brother +Alec. So she shrank under the burden of bereavement, and fostered a +loyal resentment against her father's slayers. + +The chill of the northern evening was already in the air. The sunlight +fell athwart the great fringe of foliage which crowned the lank trunks +of primordial pine woods. It lit the clearing with a mellow radiance, +and left the scene tempered with a shadowed beauty, which in all +Jessie's girlhood had never failed to appeal to her. Now it passed her +by. She saw only the crude outline of the great log home, which, for +her, had been desolated. About her were the equally crude Mission +buildings, with Father José's hut a few yards away. Then there was the +light smoke haze from the Indian camp-fires, rising heavily on the +still air, and a smell of cooking was painfully evident. Here and +there a camp dog prowled, great powerful brutes reared to the burden of +the trail. The sound of human voice, too, came from the woodlands, +chanting the droning song of labor which the squaws love to voice +without tune or meaning. + +Jessie moved slowly off in the direction of her home. Half-way across +the clearing she paused. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she turned +away and passed down the narrow avenue which led to the landing on the +river. There was an hour to supper. The twilight of her home was less +attractive now than the music of the river, which had so often borne +the burden of Allan Mowbray's laden canoes. + +Jessie had lost none of her youthful grace of movement. Her tall +figure, so round with the charms of womanhood, yet so supple, so full +of natural, unfettered grace, made her a delight to the eye. Her +beauty was unquestioned. But the change in her expression was marked. +Her ripe young lips were firmer, harder even. There was, too, a slight +down drooping at the corners of her mouth. Then her eyes had lost +something of their inclination to smile. They were the grave eyes of +one who has passed through an age of suffering. + +She moved swiftly to the landing and took up a position on one of the +timber balks set for mooring. She drew her coat about her. The dying +sun lit her ruddy brown hair with its wintry smile, and the song of the +flowing waters caught and lulled her spirit. + +Murray McTavish approached her. He came with bristling step and an air +of virile energy. He dragged forward an empty crate, and, setting it +near her, used it for a seat. + +She withdrew her gaze from the glacial field beyond the river, and +looked into the man's smiling eyes, as he greeted her. + +"There's just about two things liable to hold a young girl sitting +around on the bank of the Snake River, with a spring breeze coming down +off the glacier. One of them's dreams, the sort of romance that don't +belong to these latitudes." + +"And the other?" + +"Mostly foolishness." + +There was no offence in the man's manner. Jessie was forced to smile. +His words were so characteristic. + +"Then I guess it's foolishness with me," she said. + +"That's how I figgered when I saw you making this way, just as I was +leaving the store. Say, that coat's mighty thin. Where's your fur--if +you have to sit around here?" + +Murray's eyes surveyed the long cloth coat doubtfully. + +The girl shook her head. + +"I'm not cold." + +A sharp, splitting crack, followed by a dull, echoing boom drew the +eyes of both towards the precipitous bank across the river. The great +glacial field had already awakened from its long winter sleep. Once +more it was the living giant of countless ages stirring and heaving +imperceptibly but irresistibly. + +The sound died out and the evening peace settled once more upon the +world. In the years of their life upon this river these people had +witnessed thousands, ay, perhaps millions of tons of the discolored ice +of the glacier hurled into the summer melting pot. The tremendous +voice of the glacial world was powerless to disturb them. + +Murray gave a short laugh. + +"Guess romance has no sort of place in these regions," he said, his +thoughts evidently claimed by the voice they had both just listened to. + +Jessie looked round. + +"Romance doesn't belong to regions," she said. "Only to the human +heart." + +Murray nodded. + +"That's so--too." His amiable smile beamed into the girl's serious +eyes. "Those pore darn fools that don't know better than to hunt fish +through holes in the polar ice are just as chock full of romance as any +school miss. Sure. If it depended on conditions I guess we'd need to +go hungry for it. Facts, and desperate hard facts at that, go to make +up life north of 'sixty,' and any one guessing different is li'ble to +find all the trouble Providence is so generous handing out hereabouts." + +"I think that way, too--now. I didn't always." + +The girl sighed. + +"No." + +The man seemed to have nothing further to add, and his smile died out. +Jessie was once more reflectively contemplating the masses of +overhanging ice on the opposite bank. The thoughts of both had drifted +back over a space of seven months. + +It was the man who finally broke the spell which seemed to have fallen. +He broke it with a movement of impatience. + +"What's the use?" he said at last. + +"No--there's no use. Nothing can ever bring him back to us." The girl +suddenly flung out her hands in a gesture of helpless earnestness and +longing. "Oh, if he might have been spared to me. My daddy, my brave, +brave daddy." + +Again a silence fell between them, and again it was the man who finally +broke it. This time there was no impatience. His strange eyes were +serious; they were as deeply earnest as the girl's. But the light in +them suggested a stirring of deep emotion which had nothing of regret +in it. + +"His day had to come," he said reflectively. "A man can live and +prosper on the northern trail, I guess, if he's built right. He can +beat it right out, maybe for years. But it's there all the time +waiting--waiting. And it's going to get us all--in the end. That is +if we don't quit before its jaws close on our heels. He was a big man. +He was a strong man. I mean big and strong in spirit. You've lost a +great father, and I a--partner. It's seven months and more +since--since that time." His voice had dropped to a gentle, persuasive +note, his dark eyes gazing urgently at the girl's averted face. "Is it +good to sit around here in the chill evening dreaming, and thinking, +and tearing open afresh a wound time and youths ready to heal up good? +Say, I don't just know how to hand these things right. I don't even +know if they are right. But it kind of seems to me we folk have all +got our work to do in a country that don't stand for even natural +regrets. It seems to me we all got to shut our teeth and get right on, +or we'll pay the penalty this country is only too ready to claim. +Guess we need all the force in us to make good the life north of +'sixty.' Sitting around thinking back's just going to weaken us so +we'll need to hand over the first time our bluff is called." + +Jessie's sad eyes came back to his as he finished speaking. She nodded. + +"Yes. You're surely right. It's no use. It's worse. It's playing +the enemy's game. Mother needs my help. Alec. The little kiddies at +the Mission. You're right, Murray." Then, in a moment of passion her +eyes lit and all that was primitive in her flamed up. "Oh, I could +curse them, I could crush them in these two hands," she cried, suddenly +thrusting out two clenched small fists in impotent threat, +"these--these devils who have killed my daddy!" + +The man's regard never wavered. The girl's beauty in the passion of +the moment held him. Never had her desirability appeared greater to +him. It was on the tip of his tongue to pour out hot words of love. +To force her, by the very strength of his passionate determination, to +yield him the place in her heart he most desired. But he refrained. +He remembered in time that such a course must be backed by a physical +attraction which he knew he entirely lacked. That lack must be +compensated for by an added caution. + +He shook his head. + +"Don't talk that way," he said gently. "It's all been awful. But it +can't be undone now, and---- Say, Jessie, you got your mother, and a +brother who needs you. Guess you're more blessed than I am. I haven't +a soul in the world. I'm just a bit of flotsam drifting through life, +looking for an anchorage, and never finding one. That's how it is I'm +right here now. If I'd had folks I don't guess I'd be north of 'sixty' +now. This place is just the nearest thing to an anchorage I've lit on +yet, but even so I haven't found a right mooring." + +"You've no folks--none at all?" + +Jessie's moment of passion had passed. All her sympathy had been +suddenly aroused by the man's effort to help her, and his unusual +admission of his own loneliness. + +A shadow of the man's usual smile flickered across his features. + +"Not a soul," he said. "Not a father, mother, relative or--or wife. +Sounds mean, don't it?" Quite abruptly he laughed outright. + +"Oh, I could tell you a dandy story of days and nights of lonesomeness. +I could tell you of a boyhood spent chasing the streets o' nights +looking for a sidewalk to crawl under, or a sheltered corner folks +wouldn't drive me out of. I could tell you of hungry days without a +prospect of better to come, of moments when I guessed the cold waters +of Puget Sound looked warmer than the night ahead of me. I could tell +you of a mighty battle fought out in silence and despair. Of a resolve +to make good by any means open to man. I could tell you of strivings +and failures that 'ud come nigh breaking your heart, and a resolve +unbreakable not to yield. Gee, I've known it all, all the kicks life +can hand a derelict born under an evil influence. Say, I don't even +know who my parents were." + +"I never thought--I never knew----" + +The girl's words were wrung from her by her feelings. In a moment this +man had appeared to her in a new light. There was no sign of weakness +or self-pity in Murray as he went on. He was smiling as usual, that +smile that always contained something of a mocking irony. + +"Pshaw! It don't figger anyway--now. Nothing figgers now but the +determination never to find such days--and nights again. I said I need +to find a real mooring. A mooring such as Allan found when he found +your mother. Well, maybe I shall. I'm hoping that way. But even +there Nature's done all she knows to hand me a blank. I'd like to say +look at me, and see the scurvy trick Nature's handed out my way. But I +won't. Gee, no. Still I'll find that mooring if I have to buy it with +the dollars I mean to wring out of this devil's own country." + +Jessie's feelings had been caught and held through sympathy. Sympathy +further urged her. This man had failed to appeal before. A feeling of +gentle pity stirred her. + +"Don't say that," she cried, all her ideals outraged by the suggestion +of purchasing the natural right of every man. "There's a woman's love +for every man in the world. That surely is so. Guess it's the good +God's scheme of things. Saint or sinner it doesn't matter a thing. +We're as God made us. And He's provided for all our needs. Some day +you'll wonder what it was ever made you feel this way. Some day," she +went on, smiling gently into the round face and the glowing eyes +regarding her, "when you're old, and rich, and happy in the bosom of +your family, in a swell house, maybe in New York City, you'll likely +get wondering how it came you sat right here making fool talk to a girl +denying the things Providence had set out for you." Her pretty eyes +became grave as she leaned forward earnestly. "Say, I can see it all +for you now. The picture's standing right out clear. I can see your +wife now----" + +The man smiled at her earnestness as she paused. + +"Can you?" + +Jessie nodded. Her gaze was turned upon the far reach of the river. + +"Yes. She's medium height--like you. She's a woman of sort of +practical motherly instinct. Her eyes are blue, and clear, and fine, +revealing the wholesome mind behind. She'll be slim, I guess, and her +gown's just swell--real swell. She'll----" + +The man broke in on an impulse which he was powerless to deny. + +"She won't be tall?" he demanded, his eyes shining into hers with an +intensity which made Jessie shrink before them. "She won't move with +the grace of--of a Juno, straight limbed, erect? She won't have dandy +gray eyes that look through and beyond all the time? She won't have +lovely brown hair which sort of reflects the old sun every time it +shines on it? She won't have a face so beautiful it sets a feller just +crazy to look at it? Say, if it was like that," he cried, in a voice +thrilling with passion, "I'd feel I didn't owe Providence the kick +I've----" + +How far his feelings would have carried him it was impossible to say. +He had been caught off his guard, and had flung caution to the winds. +But he was spared the possible consequences by an interruption which +would not be denied. It was an interruption which had claimed them +both at the same instant. + +A sound came out of the distance on the still evening air. It came +from the bend of the river where it swung away to the northwest. It +was the sound of the dipping of many paddles, a sound which was of +paramount importance to these people at all times. + +The girl was on her feet first. Nor was Murray a second behind her. +Both were gazing intently out in the growing dusk. Simultaneously an +exclamation broke from them. Then the girl spoke while the man +remained silent. + +"Canoes," she said. "One, two, three, four--five. Five canoes. I +know whose they are." + +Murray was standing close beside her, the roundness of his ungainly +figure aggravated by the contrast. He, too, was gazing hard at the +flotilla. He, too, had counted the canoes as they came into view. He, +too, had recognized them, just as he had recognized the thrill of +delighted anticipation in the girl's voice as she announced her +recognition of them. + +He knew, no one better, all that lay behind the shining gray of the +girl's eyes as she beheld the canoes approach. He needed no words to +tell him. And he thanked his stars for the interruption which had +saved him carrying his moment of folly further. + +His eyes expressed no anticipation. Their glowing fires seemed to have +become extinguished. There was no warmth in them. There was little +life in their darkly brooding watchfulness. Never was a contrast so +deeply marked between two watchers of the same object. The man was +cold, his expression hard. It was an expression before which even his +habitual smile had been forced to flee. Jessie was radiant. +Excitement surged till she wanted to cry out. To call the name that +was on her lips. + +Instead, however, she turned swiftly upon the man at her side, who +instantly read the truth in the radiant gray eyes gazing into his. + +"It's--John Kars," she said soberly. Then in a moment came a +repetition. "Fancy. John Kars!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TWO MEN OF THE NORTH + +North, south, east, west. There was, perhaps, no better known name in +the wide northern wilderness than that of John Kars. In his buoyant +way he claimed for himself, at thirty-two, that he was the "oldest +inhabitant" of the northland. + +Nor was he without some justification. For, at the age of thirteen, +accompanying his father, he had formed one of the small band of gold +seekers who fought their way to the "placers" of Forty-mile Creek years +before the great Yukon rush. + +He was one of those who helped to open the gates of the country. His +child's muscles and courage had done their duty beside those of far +older men. They had taken their share in forcing the icy portals of a +land unknown, and terror-ridden. He had endured the agony of the first +great battle against the overwhelming legions of Nature. He had +survived, all unprepared and without experience. It was a struggle +such as none of those who came later were called upon to endure. For +all that has been told of the sufferings of the Yukon rush they were +incomparable with those which John Kars had been called upon to endure +at an age when the terror of it all might well have overwhelmed him. + +But he had done more than survive. Good fortune and sanity had been +his greatest assets. The first seemed to have been his all through. +Sanity only came to him at the cost of other men's experience. For all +his hardihood he was deeply human. The early temptations of Leaping +Horse had appealed to the virile youth in him. He had had his falls. +But there was something in the blood of the youth which quickly +convinced him of the folly of the life about him. So he, to use his +own expression, "quit the poultry ranch" and "hit the bank roll trail," +and good fortune followed hard behind him like a faithful spouse. + +He became rich. His wealth became a byword. And later, when, out of +disorder and vice, the city of Leaping Horse grew to capital +importance, he became surfeited with the accumulations of wealth which +rolled in upon him from his manifold interests. + +Then it was that the man which the Yukon world now knew suddenly +developed. He could have retired to the pleasant avenues of +civilization. He could have entered public life in any of the great +capitals of the world. But these things had no appeal for him. + +The battle of the trail had left a fever in his blood. He was smitten +with the disease of Ishmael. Then, before all, and above all, he +counted the northland his home. So, when everything the world could +yield him lay at his feet, the drear, silent north trail only knew him. +His interests in the golden world of Leaping Horse were left behind +him, while he satisfied his passion in the far hidden back countries +where man is a mere incident in the world's unbroken silences. + +Oh, yes, his quest was gold, frankly gold. But not in relation to +values. He sought gold for the joy of search, to provide excuse. He +sought gold for the romance of it, he sought it because adventure lay +in the track of virgin gold as it lies nowhere else. Besides, the +battle of it suited the man's hardihood. + +Once, to his philosopher friend, Dr. Bill Brudenell of Leaping Horse, +he said, "Life's just a shanty most every feller starts right in to set +up for himself. And I guess more than half of 'em couldn't set two +bricks right. It seems to me if you're going to make life a reasonable +proposition you need to start in from the beginning of things, and act +the way you see clearest. It's no use groping around in a fog just +because folks reckon it's up to you to act that way. If you can't set +two bricks right, then set one. Anyway, do the things you can do, and +don't kick because you can't do more. The trail I know. Gold I know. +The Yukon I know. Then what's the use in quittin' it fer something I +don't know, and don't care a cuss for anyway?" + +This was the man, simple, direct. Wealth meant nothing to him. It was +there. It sometimes seemed like snowing him under. He couldn't help +it. Life was all he wanted. The life he loved, the life which gave +him room in which to stretch his great body. The life which demanded +the play of his muscles of steel. The life which absorbed every mental +faculty in its simple preservation. He was, as Bill once said: "A +primitive, an elemental creature, a man destined for the altar of the +gods of the wilderness when the sands of his time ran out." + +What wonder then that Jessie Mowbray's eyes should shine with a light +such as only one man can inspire. + +Her delight was unrestrained as the flotilla drew near, and she +descried the familiar figure of its leader. Then came the ringing +greeting across the water. Nor could the manner of her response be +mistaken. Murray saw, he heard and understood. And so the fixity of +his smiling greeting which completely masked his feelings. + +John Kars' manner owed nothing to convention. But it was governed by a +sureness of touch, a perfect tact, and a great understanding of those +with whom he came into contact. To him man was simply man. Woman was +just woman. The latter claimed the last atom of his chivalrous regard +at all times. The former possessed only the distinction which his +qualities entitled him to. + +He grasped the warm, soft hand outheld to him as he leaped out of his +canoe. The girl's shining eyes looked up into his bronzed, clean-cut +features with the confidence of one who understands the big spirit +stirring behind them. She listened responsively to the simple greeting +which fell so naturally from his firm lips. + +"Say, it's good to see you all again. Home?" He glanced swiftly round +at the scene about them. "This is home, I guess." Then he laughed. +"The other," he went on, with a backward jerk of the head to indicate +Leaping Horse, whence he had just come, "why, the other's just a sort +of dumping ground for the waste left over--after home's finished with +things. Bill, here, don't feel that way. He guesses we're on an +unholy vacation with home at the other end. You can't get the same +sense out of different heads." + +He turned to Murray with a cordiality which was only less by reason of +the sex of its object. "And Murray, too. Well, say, it's worth while. +It surely is." + +The trader's response was all sufficient. But his smile contained no +added warmth, and his hand-shake lacked the grip it received. + +In five minutes John Kars had made his explanations. But they were +made to Jessie. Murray was left on the fringe of their talk. + +He told her in his rapid, easy fashion that he was out for the whole +open season. That he'd practically had to kidnap Bill from his beloved +Leaping Horse. That his old friend was just recovering from his +consequent grouch, and, anyway, folks mustn't expect anything more than +common civility from him as yet. He said that he hoped to make Fort +Wrigley on the Mackenzie River some time in the summer, and maybe even +Fort Simpson. But that would be the limit. By that time, he guessed +Bill would have mutinied and probably murdered him. He said he hoped +to appease the said Doctor with a good bag of game. But even that was +problematical, as Bill had never been known to hit anything smaller +than a haystack in his life. + +So he talked with the daughter of his old friend Allan Mowbray, knowing +of the man's murder by the Indians, but never by word or sign reminding +the girl of her loss. + +Meantime Bill Brudenell deliberately completed the work of +superintending the "snugging" of the canoes for the night. He heard +his friend's charges, and smiled his retorts with pointed sarcasm. And +Jessie understood, for she knew these two, and their great friendship. +And Dr. Bill--well, she regarded him as a sort of delightful uncle who +never told her of her faults, or recommended his own methods of +performing the difficult task of getting through life successfully. + +When all was ready they moved off the landing towards the Mission +clearing. + + +Ailsa Mowbray was preparing supper. The scones were nearly ready in +the oven, and she watched them with a skilful eye. + +She looked still older in her moments of solitude. The change in her +wrought by the last seven months must have been heart-breaking to those +who had not seen her since that dreadful night of tragedy. But her +spirit was unimpaired. There were her two children left, and a +merciful Providence had bestowed upon her a world of maternal devotion. +For all her grief, she had not been entirely robbed of that which made +life possible. Her husband lived again in the children he had blessed +her with. + +Had she so chosen she might have severed herself forever from the life +which had so deeply wounded her. Her fortune made it possible to seek +comfort in the heart of the world's great civilization. But the +thought of it never entered her simple head. She was a born housewife. +The love of her home, and its care, was part of her. That home which +had yielded her her greatest joys and her greatest trial. + +Sometimes the thought would obtrude that Jessie deserved something more +than the drear life of the northland. But the girl herself dispelled +these thoughts. Like her mother, she had no desire beyond the home she +had always known. + +When Jessie hurried into the spotless kitchen her mother glanced +quickly up from her cook-stove. + +"What is it?" she demanded, at the sight of the eager eyes and parted +lips. "You're----" She broke off with a smile. "There, child," she +added, "you don't need to tell it. Your face does that. John Kars has +come up the river." + +The girl flushed scarlet. Her eyes were horrified. + +"Why, mother," she cried dismayed, "am I so easy to read? Can--can +anybody read me like--you can?" + +The mother's eyes were very tender. + +"I don't believe John Kars can anyway," she said reassuringly. "You +see, he's a man. Is he coming along over?" + +Jessie's relief was as obvious as her momentary dismay. The flush of +shame faded from her pretty cheeks. Her eyes were again dancing with +delight. + +"Why, sure, mother," she cried. "He's coming right over--after they've +fixed things with Father José. I don't think they'll be to supper. +Dr. Bill's with him, of course. And say, aren't they just two dears? +To see them together, and hear their fool talk, you'd think them two +kids instead of two of the big men of the country. It must be good to +keep a heart so young all the time. I think, mother, they must be good +men. Real good men. I don't mean like Father José. But the sort who +do things square because they like square living. I--I wish they lived +here all the time. I--I don't know which I like best." + +"I do." + +The mother set the scones on the table and glanced over it with +approving eyes. The girl's protest came swiftly but playfully. + +"Be quiet, you mother dear," she cried, her ready blushes mounting +again. "Don't you dare to say--things. I----" + +The mother only smiled the more deeply. + +"Best go and round Alec up. Supper's ready." + +But the girl hesitated. + +"He's at the barns fixing his outfit with Keewin," she said. "He +reckons to break trail in a few days. Say, Murray's gone across to +Father José with them. Will I get him, too?" Then she added +thoughtfully, "Do you know, mother, I don't think Murray's glad to see +John Kars. He's sort of quiet with him around. I don't know. I don't +reckon he likes him. I wonder why?" + +The mother's eyes searched her daughter's face. Her smile must have +been full of meaning for any one less simple than the girl before her. + +"There's no accounting the way men feel for each other," she said at +last. "Maybe Murray guesses John Kars is butting into our trade. +Maybe he's anxious to keep the country to ourselves. You see, these +folks aren't traders, and we are." + +The girl became indignant at once. + +"But he's no right to feel that way," she cried. "The country's free. +It's big enough for us all. Besides, if John Kars isn't a trader, +where's the trouble? I think Murray's mean. That's all." + +The mother shook her head. + +"Best go and call the men-folk," she said, in her direct fashion. +"Murray can see to his likes and dislikes the same as he can see to +most things he's set on." Then she smiled. "Anyway, I don't suppose +it figgers any with you around. John Kars isn't likely to suffer from +it." + +Just for one instant the girl's eyes answered the mother's gentle +challenge. Then she went off firing her parting shot over her shoulder +as she vanished through the doorway. + +"I've always thought Murray mean--for--for all his fat smile. I--just +hate meanness." + +Ailsa Mowbray was startled. Nothing could have startled her more. In +all the years of their association with Murray she had never before +heard so direct an expression of dislike from either of her children. +It troubled her. She had not been blind to Alec's feelings. Ever +since the boy had grown to manhood she had known there had been +antagonism between them. She was never likely to forget the scene on +the night her husband's appeal for help reached her. But Jessie. + +She was disquieted. She was wondering, too. And, wondering, the +memory of her promise to Murray rose up threateningly before her. She +turned slowly back to the stove for no definite purpose, and, so +turning, she shook her head. + +Later, Jessie returned, the last sign of her ill-humor completely gone. +Behind her came the two men of her mother's household. And so the +evening meal progressed to its conclusion. + +Later still Father José and his two visitors foregathered in the +hospitable living-room, and, for the time at least, Ailsa Mowbray gave +no further thought to her disquiet, or to the appeal Murray had made to +her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY + +For a whole week Ailsa Mowbray was given no further opportunity of +dwelling upon the possibilities of the situation between Jessie and +Murray McTavish. John Kars pervaded the Mission with a personality too +buoyant to allow of lurking shadows. On the mother he had an effect +like the voice of hope urging her to a fuller appreciation of the life +about her, an even greater desire for the fulfilment of those +responsibilities which the passing of her husband had thrust upon her. +His great figure, his strong, reliant face, his decision of manner, all +combined to sweep any doubt from the path of the simple folk at St. +Agatha's Mission. + +The only person who escaped his cheering influence, perhaps, was Murray +McTavish. Father José yielded Kars a friendship and liking almost +equal to the friendship which had sent him to Leaping Horse in the +depths of winter on behalf of Allan Mowbray's widow. This man was a +rock upon which the old priest, for all his own strength of character, +was not ashamed to seek support. To Alec he was something of a hero in +all those things for which his youthful soul yearned. Was he not the +master of great wealth? Did he not live in Leaping Horse, where life +pulsated with a rush, and no lagging, sluggish stream of existence +could find a place? Then, too, the instinct of the trail which the +youth had inherited from his father, was not John Kars endowed with it +all? + +But the week of this man's stay had more meaning for Jessie than for +any one else. Her frank delight in his presence found no denial. +Every shadow was banished out of her life by it. Her days were +rendered doubly bright. Her nights were illuminated by happy dreams. +His kindness to her, his evident delight in her company, were sources +of unspeakable happiness. + +He had brought presents for them all, he had reserved the best and +costliest for Jessie. Yet no word of love passed his lips, no act of +his could have been interpreted as an expression of such by the most +jealous-minded. Nor had the girl any thought but of the delight of the +moments spent with him, and of the shadow his going must inevitably +leave behind. + +The mother watched. She understood. And, understanding, she dreaded +more than she admitted even to herself. She felt that her child would +awaken presently to the reality, and then--what then? Would John Kars +pass on? Would he come again, and again pass on? And Murray. Murray +was always in the back of her mind. + +The last day came. It was a day of labor and preparation at the +landing. Under the supervision of Kars and Bill the work went forward +to its completion, with a precision and care for detail which means +perhaps the difference between safety and disaster on the long trail. +Nothing was too small for the consideration of these men in their +understanding of the fierce wilderness which they had made their own. + +Their spirits were high. It was the care-free spirit which belongs to +the real adventurer. That spirit which alone can woo and win the +smiles of the wanton gods of the wilderness. The landing was alive +with activity. Father José found excuse for his presence there. Even +Ailsa Mowbray detached herself from the daily routine of her labors to +watch the work going forward. Nor was there a moment when a small +crowd of the Indian converts of the Mission were not assembled in the +hope that the great white hunter might be disposed to distribute at +least a portion of tobacco by way of largesse. Murray, too, found his +way thither. And his mood seemed to have improved. Perhaps it was the +knowledge of the going of these people on the morrow which stirred his +spirits to match their own. + +And Jessie? Jessie found every excuse she desired to add her presence +at the bank of the river. The day for her was all too short. For her +it was full of the excitement of departure, with the regret at the +going looming like a shadow and shutting out her sun. She concealed +nothing from herself, while her smile and happy laughter banished every +sign of all it really meant. + +So the day wore on till the last of the evening light found everything +ready for the morning's departure. All stores were bestowed under +their lashed coverings, and the canoes lay deep in the water. Then +came the evening festival planned by Ailsa in her hospitable home. A +homely supper, and a gathering of all the white folk of the post. It +was all so simple. But it was just such as these people understood and +appreciated. It was the outward sign of the profound bond which held +them all in a land that is eternally inhospitable. + +It was nearly midnight when the party broke up. Farewells were said +and the men departed. Jessie, herself, closed the heavy door upon the +last of them. Alec bade his mother and sister good-night, and betook +himself to his belated rest. Mother and daughter were left alone. + +The mother's knitting needles were still clicking busily as she sat +beside the great stove, whose warmth was a necessity in the chill of +the spring evenings. Jessie came slowly over and stood gazing down at +the fierce glow radiating beneath the iron door, where the damper had +been withdrawn. + +No word was spoken for some moments. Then a sound broke the quiet of +the room. It was the sound of a stifled sob, and the mother looked up +anxiously. + +"Why, child!" she cried, and sprang to her feet. + +The next moment her protecting arms were about the pretty figure of the +girl, and she drew her to her bosom, with a world of tender affection. + +For some moments Jessie struggled with her tears. The mother said no +word. It was the gentle hand stroking the girl's beautiful hair which +spoke for the lips which sympathy had rendered dumb. + +Then came the half-stifled confession which could no longer be denied. + +"Oh, mother, mother!" the girl cried, through her sobs. "I--I can't +help it. I--I love him, and--and he's gone." + + +Dr. Bill had gone on with Father José. To Murray's surprise, John Kars +expressed his intention of accompanying him up to the Fort, which was +the former's sleeping quarters. Murray was astonished. Nor was it a +companionship he in the least desired. The prospect even robbed him of +some of the satisfaction which the departure on the morrow inspired. +Still he was left with no choice. To refuse him on any pretext would +only be to show his hand, and bring into active expression all the +bitter feeling which lay smoldering behind his exterior of cordiality. + +He knew what John Kars meant to his hopes with regard to Jessie +Mowbray. He had admitted that he feared him. The past week had only +confirmed those fears beyond all question. He realized, surely enough, +that, whatever Kars' feelings, Jessie's were unmistakable. He knew +that time and opportunity must inevitably complete the destiny before +them. Just now it seemed to him that only something in the nature of a +miracle could help him. + +Reluctantly enough he led the way up to the grim old Fort. The path +lay through the woods, which only extended to the lower slopes of the +bald knoll upon which it stood. The moonless night made no difference +to him. He could have made the journey blindfolded. + +At the summit Murray led the way round to the gateway of the stockade, +and passed within. He was still speculating, as he had speculated the +whole way up, as to the purpose of this visit. He only saw in one +direction, at the moment, and that direction was the girl he desired +for wife. If she were to be the subject of their talk, well, he could +match any words of this man, whom he knew to be his rival. + +Inside the room, which served him as an office, Murray lit an oil lamp +on his desk. Then he set a chair for his visitor so that he should +face the light. Kars flung himself into it, while the trader took his +place before the desk, and tilted his swivel chair back at a +comfortable angle, his round smiling face cordially regarding his +companion. + +Kars bulked large in the light of the lamp. The chair under him was +completely hidden. He was of very great size and Murray could not help +but admire the muscular body, without a spare ounce of that burden of +fat under which he labored. Then the keen eyes under the strongly +marked brows. The well-shaped nose, so suggestive of the power +expressed in every line of his features. The clean-shaven lips and +chin, almost rugged in their suggestion of purpose. And above all the +curling dark hair, now bared by the removal of his beaver cap. + +Kars permitted not a moment's delay in announcing the purpose of his +visit. + +"I waited till now to have this talk, Murray, because--why, because I +don't think I could have helped things for you folks waking memories +before. I got to talk about Allan Mowbray, about the Bell River +neches. And I take it you're wisest on both subjects." + +His eyes were grave. Nor did Murray fail to observe the sternness +which gravity gave to the rest of his face. + +"I've had the story of these things as the trail knows it. An' as the +gossips of Leaping Horse figgered it out. But I don't reckon I need to +tell you Ananias didn't forget to shed his old wardrobe over the north +country gossips when he cashed in. Do you feel like saying some?" + +Murray's reply came without hesitation. + +"Why, sure," he replied. "All I know." + +Neither by look, nor tone, did his manner convey his dislike. His +smile was amiability itself. Yet under it his feelings were bitter. + +He stooped abruptly and groped in a small cupboard beside his desk. A +moment later he set a whisky bottle and two glasses in front of him, +and pushed one of the latter towards his visitor. Then he reached the +water carafe and set it beside them. + +"It's Scotch," he said invitingly. + +"Thanks." + +Kars helped himself and watered it down considerably. + +"It needs strong water in the stomach of the feller who's got to raise +the ghosts of Bell River. Gee, the thought makes me weaken." + +Murray's smile had vanished. He had by no means exaggerated his +feelings. The truth of his words was in his mysterious eyes. It was +in the eagerness of his action in raising the glass of spirit to his +lips. Kars watched him gulp down his drink thirstily. The sight of it +prepared him. He felt that he had done more than well in thus delaying +all reference to the murder of Allan Mowbray. If this were its effect +on Murray, what would it have been on Jessie, or her mother? + +The glasses were set back on the desk in silence. Kars had something +of the waiting attitude of a great watchful dog. He permitted no word +or action of his to urge the man before him. He wanted the story in +Murray's own way, and his own time. His own reasons for requesting it +were--his own. + +"It's an ugly story," Murray announced, his eyes regarding his +companion with a stare that passed through, and traveled far beyond +him. "I don't just see where to start." He stirred in his chair with +a nervous movement. "Allan was a pretty big man. I guess his nerve +was never really all out, even in this hellish country. It was as +strong as chilled steel. It was a nerve that left danger hollerin' +help. He didn't know fear--which isn't good in this land. You need to +know fear if you're to win out. There's times in this latitude you +need to be scared--badly scared--if you're to make good all the time." + +Kars nodded. + +"I'm scared most all the time." + +Murray's eyes became alert. A shadow of his smile returned to his +lips. It was gone again in a second. He replenished his glass and +produced cigars. Both men helped themselves, and, in a moment, the +fragrant smoke clouded about the globe of the oil lamp. + +"Allan was 'mushing' the long trail, same as he'd done years in the +open season," Murray said, drawing a deep sigh as he opened his story. +"I don't rightly know his itinerary. Y'see Allan had his trade secrets +which he didn't hand on to a soul. Not even his partner. But," he +leaned forward impressively, and Kars caught the full glow of his +earnest eyes, "Bell River wasn't on his schedule. We'd agreed to leave +it alone. It's fierce for a white man. It's been so years. The trade +there isn't worth the chances. He knew it. I knew it. We'd agreed to +cut it out." + +"But he went there--why?" + +Kars' question was the obvious one, and Murray's fleshy shoulders +answered it. He sat back in his chair moodily puffing at his cigar. +His eyes were on his desk. It was moments before he replied. + +At last he reached out and seizing his glass drank the contents at a +gulp. Then he leaned forward. His voice was deep. But his eyes were +steady and questioning. + +"That question'll never find its answer," he said. "Anyway he went +there. It was from there we got his call for help. It came by a +runner. It came to his wife. Not to me. He'd sent to me days before, +and it hadn't come through. Guess that call of his was a farewell to +his wife. The game must have been played when he wrote it, and I guess +he was wise to it. Say"--he sat back in his chair and pushed his fat +fingers through his hair--"it makes me sweat thinking of it." + +Kars' silent nod of sympathy was followed by a kindly warning. + +"Take your time." + +"Time?" A mirthless laugh responded to the caution. "It don't need +time. Anyway time's not calculated to make it easier. It's all right +before me now, set out as only the fiend-spawn of Bell River can set it +out." His tone deepened and he spoke more rapidly. "We got that call +in the evening. An hour after I was hot foot down the river with an +outfit of thirty neches, armed with an arsenal of weapons." His tone +grew. His eyes shone fiercely, and a deep passion seemed to stir him. +"Say, they reckon I can drive hard on the river. They reckon I've got +neither mercy, nor feeling when it comes to putting things through. I +proved all they said that trip. I drove those crews as if hades was on +our heels. I didn't spare them or myself. We made Bell River a day +under the time I figgered, and some of the boys were well-nigh dead. +Say, I guessed the clock hands were runnin' out the life of my big +friend, and--well, the life of my fellers didn't weigh an ounce in the +balance. But I was late. Late by a day." + +He broke off and dashed more whisky into his glass. He drank it down +neat. + +"Do you need more?" His eyes shone, and his voice rose. Then came his +mirthless laugh again. "Yes, best have it all. Oh, it's pretty. As +pretty as if demons had fixed it. We found him. What was left of him. +He was well-nigh hacked to dog meat, and around him were the bodies of +some of his boys. Oh, he'd put up an elegant scrap. He'd fought 'em +at something more than man for man. The Bell River dead lay about +round that bluff on the river bank in heaps. He'd fought 'em to the +last man, and I guess that was Allan. He'd fought 'em as Allan Mowbray +only knew how to fight. And he'd died as just he knew how to die. A +man." + +His voice ceased and in the silence John Kars drew a deep breath. A +great sympathy was stirring him. But he had no words to offer, and +presently the other went on. + +"We gathered him up, and the frost helped us. So we brought him right +along home. He's buried here inside this old stockade. His grave's +marked. Alec made the cross, I set it up. An' Jessie--why, Jessie +wrote some on it. That's all." + +Kars rose to his feet. His cigar was out. + +"Thanks," he said, with curious formality. + +Then he relit his cigar. He stood for a moment as though debating with +himself. Murray remained in his chair. Somehow his fat figure seemed +to have become huddled. His gaze, too, seemed to have only his +thoughts to dwell upon. + +At last Kars went on. + +"I didn't ask all this for any sort of curiosity," he said. "I asked +it because I need to know. I'm mushing a long trail myself this year, +an' I guess my way's likely taking me in the region of Bell River, +before I git back here next fall. Guess I've got that yellow streak a +feller needs to make good," he went on, his gravity thawing under a +shadowy smile. "And you figger Bell River's mighty unhealthy for a +white man about now." + +While the other was talking the last vestige of Murray's preoccupation +seemed to fall from him. He was alert. He rose from his chair. His +decision was full, and strong, and emphatic, when he replied. + +"Unhealthy? It don't say a thing. Avoid Bell River, or you'll regret +it. They're devils let loose. I tell you right here you'll need an +outfit of half a hundred to pass safe through that country. They got a +taste for white man's outfit now. Time was when they fancied only +neche scalps. It's not that way now. No, sir. I'm figgering now how +long we'll be safe here, in this Fort. There's just two hundred and +odd miles between us, and---- Say, when do you figger you're making +that way? Fall?" Kars nodded. "The time they got Allan. Don't do +it. I warn you solemnly. And I guess I--know." + +Murray's warning was delivered with urgency. There was no mistaking +its sincerity. He seemed to have risen above his antipathy for this +man. He seemed only concerned to save another from a disaster similar +to that which had befallen his partner. + +Kars thanked him and held out one powerful hand. + +"I'm obliged," he said, in a sober way as they gripped hands. "I've +had full warning, and, maybe, it's going to save me trouble. Anyway if +my way does take me around that region, and I get my medicine, well--I +guess it's up to me. Good-night, Murray. Thanks again. I'll be off +before you're around to-morrow morning. So long." + +Murray McTavish accompanied his visitor to the door. There was no more +to be said. His smile returned as he bade him farewell, and it +remained for a few moments as he stood till the night swallowed up the +departing figure. Then it died out suddenly, completely. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE MAN WITH THE SCAR + +Two men moved about slowly, deliberately. They were examining, with +the closest scrutiny, every object that might afford a clue to the +devastation about them. A third figure, in the distance, was engaged +similarly. He was dressed in the buckskin so dear to the Indian heart. +The others were white men. + +The scene was complete in horror. It was the incinerated ruins of a +recently destroyed Indian encampment, set in the shadow of a belt of +pine woods which mounted the abrupt slopes of a great hill. The woods +on the hillside were burnt out. Where had stood a dense stretch of +primordial woodland, now only the skeleton arms of the pines reached up +towards the heavens as though appealing despairingly for the vengeance +due to them. + +The day was gray. The air was still, so still. It reeked with the +taint of burning. It reeked with something else. There were bodies, +in varying stages of decomposition, lying about, many of them burned, +many of them half eaten by the wild scavengers of the region. All were +mutilated in a dreadful manner. And they were mostly the bodies of +women and children. + +Not a teepee remained standing. The mud walls of one or two huts still +stood up. But all of them that were destructible had been devoured by +hungry flames. + +After half an hour's search the two white men came to the edge of the +burnt-out forest. They paused, and John Kars' eyes searched amongst +the charred poles. Presently he shrugged his shoulders. + +"No use going up this way. We can't learn more than we've read right +here. It's the work of the Bell River outfit, sure. That's if the +things we've heard are true." He turned to his companion. "Say, Bill, +it makes you wonder. What 'bug' is it sets folk yearning to get out +and kill, and burn, all the time? Think of it. Just think if you and +me started right in to holler, an' shoot, an' burn. What would you +say? We're crazy, sure. Yet these folk aren't crazy. They're just +the same as they were born, I guess. They weren't born crazy, any more +than we were. It gets me beat. Beat to death." + +Bill Brudenell was overshadowed in stature by his friend. But his wit +was as keen. His mental faculties perhaps more mature. He might not +have been able to compete with John Kars in physical effort, but he +possessed a ripe philosophy, and a wonderful knowledge of human nature. + +"The craziest have motives," he said, with a whimsical smile in his +twinkling eyes. "I've often noticed that folk who act queer, and are +said to be crazy, and maybe get shut up in the foolish-house, generally +have an elegant reason of their own for acting the way they do. Maybe +other folks can't get it right. I once had to do with a case in which +a feller shot up his mother, and was made out 'bug,' and was put away. +It worried me some. Later I found his ma made his life miserable. He +lived in terror of her. She'd broken bottles over his head. She'd +soused him with boiling water. She'd raised the devil generally, +till--well, till he reached the limit. Then I found she acted that way +because her dandy boy was sparking around some tow-headed female, and +guessed he intended marrying her, and setting her to run the home his +mother had always run for him. There's some sort of reason to most +crazy acts. Guess we'll need to chase up the Bell River outfit if +we're looking for the reason to this craziness." + +"Yes." + +Bill turned away and picked up a stained and rusted hatchet of +obviously Indian make. He examined it closely. John Kars stared about +him with brooding eyes. + +"What do you think lies back of this?" he inquired presently. His +manner was abstracted, and his eyes were watching the movements of the +third figure in the distance. + +Bill glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. It was a swift, +speculating glance. Then he continued his examination of the hatchet, +while he talked. + +"Much of what lies back of most desperate acts," he said. "Guess the +Bell River folk have got something other folk need, and the other folk +know it. I allow the Bell River folk don't figger to hand over to +anybody. Maybe it's hunting grounds, maybe it's fishing. Can't say. +But you see this crowd are traveling Indians, or were," he added drily. +"We're within twenty miles of Bell River. If they were traveling, +which the remains of their teepees make them out to have been, then I +guess they weren't doing it for health. More than likely it was +robbery of some sort. Well, I guess they were up against a +proposition, and got it--plenty. It's going to snow. What are you +figgering?" + +Kars searched the gray skies. + +"We'll make Bell River." + +"I guessed you would. Maybe some folks would say it's you that's +crazy. Ask Peigan." + +Bill laughed. His clever face was always at its best when his +twinkling eyes, as it were, bubbled over. + +The men moved on towards their camp. + +The threat of the sky added to the gloomy nature of the crudely rugged +country. On every hand the hills rose mightily. Dark woodlands +crowded the lower slopes, but the sharply serrated crests, many of them +snow-clad, left a merciless impression upon the mind. The solitude of +it all, too, was overpowering. + +The long summer trail lay behind them, all its chances successfully +taken, all its many dangers surmounted. The threat of the sky was real +and they had no desire now to fall victims to a careless disregard of +ordinary climatic conditions. + +Kars' calculation had been carefully made. His plans were laid so that +they should reach the upper stream of the Snake River, where his river +depot had been established, and his canoes were awaiting them, with at +least three weeks to spare before the ice shut down all traffic. The +outfit would then have ample time in which to reach the shallows of +Peel River, whence the final stage of the journey to Leaping Horse +would be made overland on the early winter trail. + +Peigan Charley joined them at the camp. The man came up with that +curiously silent, almost furtive gait, which no prairie Indian, however +civilized, ever quite loses. It comes from long years of moccasin use, +and an habitual bent knee walk. Peigan Charley considered himself +unusually civilized. But it was for his native abilities that Kars +employed him. + +His broad, bronze face and dark eyes were quite without expression, for +all he had searched closely and probed deeply into the horrors of that +desperate camp. Perhaps he had no appreciation of horror. Perhaps he +saw nothing outrageous in the dreadful destruction. + +He was carrying a broken modern rifle in his hand, and with a word +promptly offered it to his chief. + +Kars took the weapon. He examined it closely while Bill looked on. +Then the white chief's eyes searched the Indian's face. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +The copper-hued expressionless features of the man underwent a change. +They became almost animated. But it was with a look of awe, or even +apprehension. + +"Him Bell River," he stated bluntly. + +"Yes." + +John Kars had learned all he wanted from the scout. His own opinion +was corroborated. So he handed the useless weapon back and pointed at +it. + +"Allan Mowbray's outfit," he said. "Bell River neche steal 'em." + +The scout nodded. + +The smell of cooking pervaded the camp. For some moments no one spoke. +Bill was watching his friend, waiting for that decision which he knew +had long since been taken. The Indian was silent, as was his habit, +and Kars appeared to be considering deeply. + +Presently he looked up at the sky. + +"That snow will be--rain," he said. "Wind's got south. We'll make Big +Butte to-night. Bell River to-morrow. Noon." + +Bill was observing the Indian. Peigan Charley's bovine stare changed +swiftly as the white chief whom he regarded above all men gave his +decision. Its stolidity had given way to incredulity, and Bill found +in it a source of amusement. + +Suddenly Charley thrust up one hand. The long, tawny fingers were +parted, and he counted off each one. + +"One, two, tree, four," he enumerated, bending each finger in turn. +"Him all big fool pack neche. No good. Plenty 'fraid. Plenty eat. +Oh, yes, plenty eat. One, two." Again he told off his fingers. "Good +neche. Fight plenty. Oh, yes. Peigan Charley." He held up one +finger. "Heap good feller," he commented solemnly. "Big Chief, boss. +Big Chief, Bill. Two." Again the inevitable fingers. "Shoot plenty +much. No good. Five hundred Bell River devils. Mush gun. Shoot bad. +Big Chief boss all kill up. Boss go Bell River. Boss crazy--sure." + +Bill was thoroughly enjoying himself. Nor did Kars resent his smiles. +He, too, laughed in spite of the Indian's growing concern. + +"We make Bell River to-morrow," he said finally. "See the boys get +busy with food. We mush in half an hour." + +The Indian had made his protest. There was nothing further to add. So +he went off and the white man watched him go. + +"Guess there'll be something doing around the camp when he gets amongst +the boys," Kars observed. Then he added, after a smiling pause, "That +feller thinks me crazy. Guess Murray McTavish would think that way, +too. Maybe that's how you're thinking. Maybe you're all right, and +I'm all wrong. I can't say. And I can't worry it out. Y'see, Bill, +my instinct needs to serve me, like your argument serves you. Only you +can't argue with instinct. The logic of things don't come handy to me, +and Euclid's a sort of fool puzzle anyway to a feller raised chasing +gold. There's just about three things worrying the back of my head +now. They've been worrying it all summer, worse than the skitters. +Maybe Bell River can answer them all. I don't know. Why are these +Bell River neches always shooting up their neighbors, and any one else? +How comes it Allan Mowbray died worth half a million dollars on a fur +trade? What was he doing on Bell River when he got killed?" + + +It was a wide flat stretch of grass, a miniature table-land, set high +up overlooking the broken territory of the Bell River forge. It was +bleak. A sharp breeze played across it with a chill bitterness which +suggested little enough mercy when winter reigned. It was an outlook +upon a world quite new to Bill. To John Kars the scene was by no means +familiar. + +These men gazed out with a profound interest not untouched by awe. +Their eyes sought in every direction, and no detail in the rugged +splendor was lost. For long minutes they stood silently reading the +pages of the new book opened to them. + +It was, in Kars' own words, a "fierce" country. It suggested something +like desperation in the Creator of it all. It seemed as though +imagination must have deserted Him, and He was left only with the +foundations, and the skeleton walls of a vast structure upon His hands. + +The horizon was approached by tier on tier of alternating glacier and +barren hill. What lay hidden in the hollows could only be conjectured. +In every direction, except the southeast, whence they had come, the +outlook was the same. Hills, and more hills. Glacial stretch, +followed by glacial stretch. Doubtless the hollows contained vast +primordial woods, and fiercely flooding mountain streams, scoring their +paths through wide stretches of miry tundra, quaking and treacherous. + +This was the distance, than which nothing could have been more +desolate. But the nearer view was their chief concern. + +The gorge yawned almost at their feet. It was tremendous, and its +vastness set the mind dizzy. Great circling patches of mist rose up +from below and added a sense of infinity to its depths. So wide. So +deep. The broad river in its bowels was reduced to something like a +trickling streamlet. The woodlands crowding the lower slopes, dim, +vague in the distance, became merely a deepening of the shadows below. +Forests of primordial immensity were lost in the overwhelming nature of +their setting. + +The air of sterility, in spite of the woodlands so far down below, in +spite of the attenuated grass on which they stood, inspired a profound +sense of repugnance. To the mind of Bill Brudenell, at least, it was a +land of hopelessness, a land of starvation and despair. + +He turned to his companion at last, and his voice rang with deep +feeling. + +"Fierce? Gee! There's not a word in the whole vocabulary of a white +man that gets nearer than ten miles of describing it," he exclaimed. +"And the neches, here, figger to scrap to hold it. Well, it certainly +needs attractions we can't locate from here." + +Kars nodded agreement. + +"That's how I've felt all through," he said. "Now? Why, now I'm dead +sure. This is where they murdered Jessie's father. Well, even a +railroad corporation couldn't advertise it a pleasure resort. We'd +best get right on down to the camp. I reckon to locate those +attractions before we're through." + +Leaving the plateau they passed down the seemingly endless slope. Bill +cursed the foothold, and blasphemed generally. Kars remained silent. +He was absorbed with the task he had set himself in approaching this +murder-haunted gorge. + +The return to the camp occupied the best part of an hour, and the +latter part of the journey was made through a belt of pine wood, the +timber of which left the human figure something so infinitesimal that +its passage was incapable of disturbing the abiding silence. The +scrunch of the springy carpet of needles and pine cones under heavily +shod feet was completely lost. The profoundness of the gloom was +tremendous. + +The camp suggested secrecy. It lay in the bowels of a hollow. The +hollow was crowded with spruce, a low, sparse-growing scrub, and +mosquitoes. Its approach was a defile which suggested a rift in the +hills at the back. Its exit was of a similar nature, except that it +followed the rocky bed of a trickling mountain stream. A mile or so +further on this gave on to the more gracious banks of the Bell River to +the west of the gorge. + +Kars had taken up a position upon some rolled blankets. He was +smoking, and meditating over the remains of a small fire. Bill was +stretched full-length upon the ground. His philosophic temperament +seemed to render him impervious to the attacking hordes of mosquitoes. +Beyond the hum of the flying pestilence the place was soundless. + +Near by the Indians were slumbering restfully. It is the nature of the +laboring Indian to slumber at every opportunity--slumber or eat. +Peigan Charley was different from these others of his race. But the +scout had long been absent from the camp on work that only the keenest +of his kind could accomplish successfully. Indian spying upon Indian +is like hunting the black panther. The difficulty is to decide which +is the hunter. + +Bill was drowsily watching a cloud of mosquitoes set into undue +commotion by the smoke from his pipe. But for all that his thoughts +were busy. + +"Guess Charley isn't likely to take fool chances?" he suggested after a +while. + +Kars shook his head at the fire. His action possessed all the decision +of conviction. + +"Charley's slim. He's a razor edge, I guess. He's got us all beaten +to death on his own play. He's got these murdering devils beaten +before they start." Then he turned, and a smile lit his steady eyes as +they encountered the regard of his friend. "It seems queer sending a +poor darn Indian to take a big chance while we sit around." + +Then he kicked the fire together as he went on. + +"But we're taking the real chance, I guess," he said, with a short +laugh. "If the Bell River outfit is all we reckon, then it's no sort +of gamble we made this camp without them getting wise." + +Bill sat up. + +"Then we certainly are taking the big chance." + +Kars laughed again. + +"Sure. And I'll be all broken up if we don't hear from 'em," he said. + +He knocked out his pipe and refilled it. Once during the operation he +paused and listened. + +"Y'see," he went on, after a while, "we're white folks." + +"That's how I've always heard. So was--Allan Mowbray." + +Kars picked up a hot coal from the fire, rolled it in the palm of his +hand, and dropped it on the bowl of his pipe. Once the pipe was lit he +shook it off again. + +"Allan got around here--many times," he said reflectively. "He wasn't +murdered on his first visit--nor his second. Allan's case isn't ours. +Not if I figger right." + +"How d'you figger?" + +"They'll try and hustle us. If I figger right they don't want folk +around--any folk. I don't think that's why they murdered Allan. There +was more to that. Seems to me we'll get a visit from a bunch of 'em. +Maybe they'll get around with some of the rifles they stole from Allan. +They'll squat right here on their haunches and tell us the things they +fancy, and---- Hello!" + +Kars broke off, but made no movement. He did not even turn his head +from his contemplative regard of the white ashes of the fire. There +was a sound. The sound of some one approaching through the trees. It +was the sound of a shod footstep. It was not the tread of moccasins. + +Bill eased himself. In doing so his revolver holster was swung round +to a handy position. But Kars never stirred a muscle. + +A moment later he spoke in a tone keyed a shade lower. + +"A feller wearing boots. It's only one--I wonder." + +Bill had risen to his feet. + +"My nerves aren't as steady as yours. I'm going to look," he announced. + +He moved off, and presently his voice came back to the man by the fire. + +"Ho, John! A visitor," he cried. + +The man at the fire replied cordially. + +"Bring him right along. Pleased to see him." + +But Kars had not moved from his seat. As he flung his reply back, he +glanced swiftly at the place where his own and Bill's rifles stood +leaning against the pale green foliage of a bush within reach of his +hand. Then, with elaborate nonchalance, he spread his hands out over +the smoldering ashes of the fire. + +A moment or two later he was gazing up smilingly into the face of a man +who was obviously a half-breed. + +The man was dressed in a beaded buckskin shirt under a pea-jacket of +doubtful age. It was worn and stained, as were the man's moleskin +trousers, which were tucked into long knee-boots which had once been +black. But the face held the white man's interest. It was of an olive +hue, and the eyes which looked out from beneath almost hairless brows +were coal black, and fierce, and narrow. A great scar split the skin +of his forehead almost completely across it. And beneath the +attenuated moustache another scar stretched from the corner of his +mouth half-way across his right cheek. Then, too, his Indian-like +black hair was unable to conceal the fact that half an ear was missing. +Nor did it take Kars a second to realize that the latter mutilation was +due to chewing by some adversary in a "rough and tumble" fight. + +The man's greeting came in the white man's tongue. Nor was it tinged +with the "pigeon" method of the Indian. It smacked of the gold city +which knows little enough of refinement amongst even its best classes. + +"Say, you boys are takin' all kinds of chances," he said, in a voice +that had little pleasantness of intonation. "I had some scare when I +see you come over the hills ther'. The darn neches bin out the way you +come, burnin', an' massacrin'. How you missed 'em beats me to death. +But I guess you did miss 'em?" he added significantly. "And I'm glad." + +Kars was only concerned with the information of the Indians' movements. + +"They're out?" he said. + +"Sure they're out." The man laughed. "They're out most all the time. +Gee, it's livin' with a cyclone playin' around you on this +God-forgotten river. But, say, you boys need to beat it, an' beat it +quick, if you want to git out with your hair on. They're crazy for +guns an' things. If they git their noses on your trail they'll git you +sure as death." + +The warning received less attention than it seemed to demand. + +Kars looked the half-breed squarely in the eyes. + +"Who are you?" he demanded. Abrupt as was the challenge the tone of it +had no roughness. + +"Louis Creal." + +"Belong here?" + +Kars' steady eyes were compelling. + +A flush of anger surged in the half-breed's mutilated cheeks. His eyes +snapped viciously. + +"This ain't a catechism, is it?" he cried hotly. Then in a moment he +moderated his tone. "Fellers on the 'inside' don't figger to hand +around their pedigrees--usual. Howsum, I allow I come right along to +pass you a friendly warning, which kind o' makes it reasonable to tell +you the things folk don't usually inquire north of 'sixty.' Yep. I +live around this river, an' hand the neches a bum sort o' trade fer +their wares. Guess I scratch a livin', if you can call it that way, up +here. But it don't figger any. My ma come of this tribe. I guess my +paw belonged to yours." + +"Where d'you get your goods for trade?" + +The sparkle of hasty temper grew again in the black depths of the +half-breed's eyes. The man's retort came roughly enough now. + +"What in----!" he cried. Then again he checked his fiery impulse. +"Say, that ain't no darn bizness of any one but me. Get me? It's a +fool question anyway. Ther's a dozen posts I could haul from. My +bizness ain't your bizness. I stand pat fer why I traipsed nigh two +miles to reach your darn fool camp. I handed you the trouble waitin' +around if you ain't wise. I guess you're wise now, an' if you don't +act quick it's up to you. If you've the savvee of a buck louse you'll +beat it good an' quick. You'll beat it as if the devil was chasin' you +plenty." + +Then it seemed as if urgency overcame his resentment, for he went on +with a sort of desperate eagerness. "Say, I ain't got your names, I +don't know a thing. I ain't no interest if you're alive, or hacked to +small chunks. But if you got any value fer your lives, if you've got +folks to worry fer you, why, git right out o' this just as fast as the +devil'll let you. That's all." + +"Thanks--we will." Kars had suddenly abandoned all his previous +assurance of manner. He seemed to be laboring under the influence of +the warning. "Guess we're kind of obliged to you. More than I can +say. Maybe you won't take amiss the things I asked. You see, finding +a white man in this region seemed sort of queer since they murdered +Allan Mowbray. I just had to ask." He turned to Bill, who was +watching him curiously. "We'll strike camp right away. Guess we best +get out west if the neches are southeast. Seems to me we're in a bad +fix anyway." Then he turned again to the half-breed. "Maybe you'll +stop around and take food? We'll eat before we strike." + +Kars' changed attitude seemed to please the half-breed. But he shook +his head with a smile that only rendered his expression the more crafty. + +"Nothin' doin' that way," he said decidedly. "Gee, no!" Then he added +confidentially: "I come two miles to give you warnin'. That's straight +across as the birds fly. I made nearer five gettin' here. Maybe +you'll get that when I tell you these devils have eyes everywhere. +Since they shot up Allan Mowbray I'm scared. Scared to death. I've +taken a big chance coming around. I ain't makin' it bigger stoppin' to +feed. An' if you'll take white advice you won't neither. Jest get to +it an' set all the darnation territory you ken find between you an' +Bell River before to-morrow. I quit. So long. I've handed you +warning. It's right up to you." + +He turned abruptly away and moved off. To the dullest it was obvious +he was anxious to escape further interrogation. And these men were not +dull. + +Bill followed him a few steps and stood watching his slim, lithe figure +vanish amongst the close-growing spruce. Kars, too, watched him go. +But he had not stirred out of his seat. They waited until the sound of +his footsteps had died out. Then Kars bestirred himself. He passed +from the camp to where his Indians were sleeping. When he returned +Bill was standing over the fire. + +"I've set a boy to trail him to the edge of the woods," he said. Then +he returned to his seat. + +Bill nodded. + +"Well?" + +Kars laughed. + +"An elegant outfit," he said with appreciation. "I guess he's more +scared of us than the Bell River devils. We're not to get the bunch of +neches I guessed." + +"No. He's a crook and--a bad one. When do we pull out?" + +Kars looked up. His eyes were steady and keen. His jaws were set +aggressively. + +"When I've nosed out the secret of this darned layout." + +"But----" + +"Say, Bill," Kars' manner became suddenly alive with enthusiasm, "we've +chased a thousand miles and more this summer, nosing, and scratching, +and worrying to find some of the secrets of this mighty big land. +We've sweated and cussed till even the flies and skitters must have +been ashamed. I figger we've lit right on top of a big secret here, +and--well, I don't fancy being bluffed out of it by any low-down bum of +a half-breed. That feller wants to be quit of us. He's bluffing. +We've hit the camp with the neches _out_. Do you get that? If they'd +bin around we wouldn't have seen any Louis Creal. We'd have had all +the lead poisoning the neches could have handed us. Wait till Charley +gets back." + + +Peigan Charley was squatting on his haunches holding out the palms of +his lean hands to the warming blaze of the fire. + +Darkness had shut down upon the gloomy world about them. The air was +chill. The fire was more than welcome. Kars was sitting adjacent to +his faithful servant, and Bill was on the other side of him. The +Indian was talking in a low voice, and in a deliberate fashion. + +"I mak him," he said, in his quaint, broken way. "Neche all out. Only +squaws, an' pappoose by the camp. Old men--yes. Him all by river. +Much squaws by river. Charley not come by river. No good. Charley +him look by camp. Him see much teepee, much shack. Oh, yes, plenty. +One big--plenty big--shack. Squaws mak go by shack. Him store. +Charley know. Yes, Breed man run him store. Charley, him see Breed +woman, too. All much plenty busy. So. Charley him come. Yes?" + +Kars smoked on for some silent moments. + +"You didn't risk the river?" he inquired presently. "Just where were +they working?" + +"No. Charley him all get kill up dead by river. No bush. No +nothing." He made a gesture that was unmistakable. Then he went on. +"Charley, him go up dis way." He pointed at the hill directly behind +him. "Him go up--up. Much walk, oh, yes. Then Charley, him go down. +Plenty big piece. Heap down. So. Come by river. Much bush. +Charley, him go on. Quiet. Oh, yes. Quiet--much quiet. Then no bush +any more. Big rock. High. Much high. Wide. Dis way." He spread +his arms out to their full extent, indicating the gorge. "Water so." +He narrowed his hands together. "Squaws, him plenty much work by +water. So." + +Again the men smoked on in silence. Bill made no comment at all. He +was looking to Kars. This was entirely Kars' affair. + +Presently Kars looked round. + +"Charley made good--very good," he said. "Charley good man." + +Then he looked across at Bill. He was smiling, and the light of the +fire made his smile queerly grim. + +"That's all I need, Bill," he said. "The rest I'll do myself. I'm +going to quit you for the time. Maybe I won't join you till nearly +morning. I can't say. I want you to strike camp right away. Get on +the move down to the river bank--above the gorge. Then follow it along +for a few miles. Maybe ten. Then wait around, and keep an eye wide. +Then send Charley back to wait for me on the river bank--just above the +gorge. Get that, Charley?" He turned to the Indian. "I need you to +know just where Boss Bill is waiting, so you can guide me." + +"Charley git him plenty. Charley him wait." + +"Good. You get it, Bill?" + +Bill nodded. + +"Right. Then I'll be moving." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SECRET OF THE GORGE + +Peigan Charley's belief in his white boss's lack of sanity was +characteristic of Indian regard for the reckless. The reason, the +driving power of his chief's character was lost to his primitive mind. +The act was all he had power to judge by, and the act of voluntarily +visiting the headquarters of the Bell River Indians said he was "crazy." + +But Kars was by no means "crazy," nor anything like it. He had a +definite purpose to fulfil, and, in consequence, all hazard was +ignored. The man's simple hardihood was the whole of him. He had been +bred in the rough lap of the four winds at his father's side. He would +have smothered under the breath of caution. + +He set out from the camp at the moment he had carefully selected. He +set out alone, without a thought for the chances of disaster which the +night might have for him. His eyes were alight with satisfaction, with +anticipation. Invincible determination inspired him as he faced the +hill which had served the Indian earlier in the day. He moved off with +a swing to his great body which said all that his lips had left +unspoken of the confidence which at all times supported him in the +battle with elemental forces. + +When he left the camp the blackness of the night had given way to the +jewel-studded velvet of a clearing sky. The spectre lights of the +north were already dancing their sombre measure. There was no moon. +These things all possessed their significance for him. + +The shadowy night light, however, only served him in the open, in the +breaks in the deep woodlands he must thread. For the rest his +woodcraft, even his instinct, must serve him. A general line of +direction was in his mind. On that alone he must seriously depend. +His difficulties were tremendous. They must have been insurmountable +for a man of lesser capacity. But the realization of difficulty was a +sense he seemed to lack. It was sufficient that a task lay before him +for the automatic effort to be forthcoming. + +He climbed the hill through endless aisles of straight-limbed timber. +His gait was rapid. His deep, regular breathing spoke of an effort +which cost him little. His muscles were as hard as the tree-trunks +with which he frequently collided. And so he came to the barren crest +where the fierce night wind bit deeply into the warm flesh. + +He only paused for his bearings. The stars and the dancing lights +yielded him the guidance he needed. He read these signs with the ease +of an experienced mariner. Then, crushing his soft beaver cap low down +over his ears, and buttoning his pea-jacket about his neck, he left the +bitter, wind-swept hilltop and plunged down the terrific slope, at the +far-off bottom of which lay the river, whose very name had cast a spell +of terror over the hearts of the people of the northland. + +Again he was swallowed up by the dark bowels of the woods, whose origin +went back to the days before man trod the earth. And curiously enough +a sensation of committing an intrusion stirred as the silence closed +down about him. A dark wall always seemed to confront him, a wall upon +which he was being precipitated. + +The steep of the decline was at times terrific. There were moments of +impact with trees which left him bruised and beaten. There were +moments when projecting roots threatened to hurl him headlong to +invisible depths. Each buffet, each stumble, however, only hardened +his resolve. These things were powerless to deter him. + +His descent of the approach to the gorge was a serious test. He felt +thankful at least that his plans called for no reascent of the hill +later. Twice he was precipitated into the bed of a spring "washout," +and, sore and angry, he was forced to a blind scramble from the moist, +soft bed. + +Once he only escaped with his life by a margin the breadth of a hair. +On this occasion he recovered himself with a laugh of something like +real amusement. But death had clutched at him with fierce intent. He +had plunged headlong over the edge of a chasm, hewn in the hillside by +a subsidence of the foundations some hundreds of feet below. Six feet +from the brink his great body had been caught in the arms of a bushy +tangle, which bent and crushed under his great weight in a perilous, +almost hopeless fashion. But he clung to the attenuated branches that +supported him and waited desperately for the further plunge below, +which the yielding roots seemed to make inevitable. + +But the waiting saved him. Had he struggled while the bush labored +under the shock, maybe his anticipations would have been fulfilled. As +it was the roots definitely held, and, cautiously, he was able to haul +himself up against the weed-grown wall of the precipice, and finally +obtain a foot and hand hold in its soil. The rest was a matter of +effort and nerve, and at last he clambered back to comparative safety. + +So the journey went on with varying fortune, his blind groping and +stumblings alternating with the starlit patches where the woods broke. +But it went on deliberately to the end with an inevitability which +revealed the man. + +At last he stood in the open with the frowning walls of the great gorge +far above him, like a giant mouth agape in a desperate yawn. At his +feet lay the river, flowing swiftly on to join the great Mackenzie in +its northward rush to swell the field of polar ice. + +Here, in the bowels of the great pit, he was no longer blinded by the +darkness, for, in the three hours of infinite effort he had expended, +the moon had risen, and its radiance shone down the length of the gorge +like some dull yellow search-light. The wood-lined walls were lit till +their conformation was vaguely discernible. The swift stream reflected +the yellow rays on the crests of its surging ripples. Then, far in, +beyond the mouth of the canyon, the long low foreshore stood out almost +plainly to his searching eyes. + +His task was only at its beginning. He waited just sufficiently long +to deliberate his next move. Then he set off, heading for the heart of +the gorge itself. + + +It was a scene of deep interest for eyes backed by understanding. + +A figure moved slowly about, searching here, probing there. It was a +figure suggesting secret investigation without a sign of real secrecy +in its movements. + +The foreshore of the river was wide, far wider than could have been +believed from the heights above. It sloped gradually to the water's +edge, and the soil was loose, gravelly, with a consistency that was +significant to the trained mind. But its greater interest lay in the +signs of intense labor that stood out on every hand. Operations, +crudely scientific, had been carried out to an extent that was almost +staggering. Here, in the heart of a low class Indian territory was the +touch of the white man. It was more than a touch. It was the impress +of his whole hand. + +The foreshore was honeycombed with shallow pits, shored, and timbered +with rough hewn timber. Against the mouth of each pit, and there were +dozens of them, a great pile of soil stood up like a giant beehive, +Some of these were in the process of formation. Some were completed, +and looked to have stood thus for many months. Some were in the +process of being demolished, and iron-wheeled trolleys on timbered +pathways stood about them, with the tools of the laborers remaining +just where they had been flung down when the day's work was finished. + +Each pit, each "dump" was narrowly scrutinized by the silent figure as +it moved from point to point. Even the examination extended to touch. +Again and again the soil was handled in an effort to test its quality. + +But the search extended beyond the "dumps" and pits. It revealed a +cutting hewn out of the great wall of the gorge. It was hewn at a +point well above the highest water level of the spring freshets. And +it was approached by a well timbered roadway of split green logs. + +The figure moved over to this, and, as it left the beehive "dumps," a +second figure replaced it. But whereas the first made no secret of its +movements, the second displayed all the furtive movements of the hunter. + +The cutting further revealed the guidance of the master mind. It was +occupied by a mountainous dump of the accumulated "dirt" from the +foreshore. It was built up, up, by a system of log pathways, till a +rough estimate suggested the accumulation of thousands upon thousands +of tons. + +What was the purpose of this storage? + +The question was answered by a glance in a fresh direction. Adjoining +the cutting stood an iron winch. It was a man-power winch, but it +worked an elevated cable trolley communicating with a trestle work +fifty yards away. + +Moving swiftly on towards the trestle work the man searched its length. +He peered up, far up the great hillside in the uncertain moonlight, +seeking the limits of its trailing outline in that direction. But its +ascent was gradual. It took the hill diagonally, and quickly lost +itself round a bend in the narrow roadway which had been hewn out of +the primordial forest. + +The end of this work in the other direction was far down on the +foreshore, stopping short of the water's edge by, perhaps, fifty yards. +It terminated at what was obviously a great mound of "tailings." + +The man moved down to this spot. As he paused by the mound, and gazed +up, the trestle work stood above him more than twice his own height. +Furthermore, here the skeleton work gave place to built-out platforms, +the purpose of which was obvious. A moment later his powerful hands +were gripping the massive stanchions, and he was clambering up to the +platforms. + +It was a simple enough task for a man of activity, and he swarmed up +with the rapidity of some great cat. He stood on the topmost platform, +and his gaze ran down the length of the structure. + +"A sluice-box and--conduit," he muttered. Then in a tone of deep +appreciation: "Gee, and it's fixed--good!" + +He bent down over the sluice-box, and groped with his hands over the +bottom of it. There was a trickle of water flowing gently in its +depths. He searched with his fingers along the riffles. And that +which he found there he carefully and laboriously collected, and drew +up out of the water. He placed the collected deposit in a colored +handkerchief, and again searched the riffles. He repeated the +operation again and again. Then, with great care he twisted up the +handkerchief and bestowed it in an inner pocket of his pea-jacket. + +After that he sat himself upon the edge of the sluice-box for some +thoughtful minutes, and his mind traveled back over many scenes and +incidents. But it dwelt chiefly upon Jessie Mowbray and her dead +father. And it struggled in a great effort to solve the riddle of the +man's death. + +But, in view of his discoveries, just now it was a riddle that +suggested far too many answers. Furthermore, to his mind, none of them +quite seemed to fit. There were two facts that stood out plainly in +his mind. Here, here was the source of Allan's wealth, and this was +the enterprise which in some way had contrived to leave Jessie Mowbray +fatherless. + +He sighed. A wave of intense pity swept over him. Nor was his pity +for the man who had kept his secret so profoundly all these years. It +was for the child, and the widow he had left behind. But more than all +it was for the child. + +It was with something like reluctance that he tore himself away from +the magic of the sluice-box. Once on the solid ground, however, he +again turned his eyes to gaze up at the structure. Then he laughed. +It was an audible expression of the joy of discovery. + +"What a 'strike'!" he said aloud. + +"An' one you ain't gettin' away with!" + +John Kars started. He half turned at the sound of the familiar voice. +But his intention remained incompleted. It may have been instinct. It +may have been that out of the corner of his eye he saw the white ring +of the muzzle of a revolver shining in the moonlight close against his +head. + +On the instant of the last sound of the man's voice he dropped. He +dropped like a stone. His movement came only the barest fraction of a +second before the crack of the revolver prefixed the whistle of the +bullet which spat itself deeply into the woodwork of the trestle. + +Thought and action ran a neck and neck race in Kars at all times. Now +it was never better exampled. His arms flung out as he dropped. And, +before a second pressure of the trigger could be accomplished, the man +behind the gun was caught, and thrown, and sprawled on the ground with +his intended victim uppermost. + +For Kars it was chiefly a struggle for possession of the gun. On his +assailant's part it was for the use of it upon his intended victim. + +Kars had felled the man by the weight and suddenness of his attack. He +had him by the body, and his own great bulk lay atop of him. But the +man's arms were free. There was a moment's desperate pause as they +fell, and it was that pause which robbed the gunman of his chance of +accomplishing the murder he had designed. Kars knew his man on the +instant. The voice was the voice of Louis Creal, the half-breed who +had warned him of the danger of Bell River. He could have laughed had +not the moment been too desperate. + +On the instant of impact with the ground Kars released his hold of the +man's body, and with catlike agility hurled himself at the man's +throat. With the threat of the revolver over him there remained only +one means of defence. He must paralyze all action even if he killed +the man under his hands. Physically his assailant was no match for +him, but the gun leveled things up. + +His great hands closed on the man's throat like a vice. It was a +strangle hold that knew no mercy. He reared his body up and his grip +tightened. The Breed struggled fiercely. He flung up his gun arm and +fired recklessly. The first shot flew high into the air but the scorch +of the fire stung the face of the man over him. A second shot came. +It cut its way through the thick muscles of Kars' neck. He winced +under its hot slither, but his grip only further tightened on the man's +throat. + +Then came collapse with hideous suddenness. With a choking gurgle the +Breed's arms dropped nervelessly to the ground and the revolver fell +from his relaxed grip. On the instant the white man released his hold. +He caught up the gun and flung it wide. + +He had won out. The cost to him did not matter. He stood up and gazed +down at the man on the ground. He was still--quite still. Then he +searched his own pockets for a handkerchief. The only one he possessed +had been set to precious use. He rejected it. So he bent over the +prostrate Breed and unfastened the colored handkerchief about his neck. +This he proceeded to fasten about the flesh wound in his own neck, for +the blood flowing from it was saturating his clothes. + +A moment later the half-breed stirred. It was what the white man had +awaited. The sight of the movement brought a sigh of relief. He was +glad he had not been forced to become the slayer of the man. + +Five minutes later the dazed half-breed seemed to awaken to realities. +He propped himself on his elbow, and, with his other hand, felt about +his throat, whilst his dark, evil face and beady eyes stared +malevolently up in the moonlight at the man standing over him. + +"Feeling better?" the white, man demanded coldly. + +As he received no answer he went on. + +"Guess you acted foolish trailing up so close on me. Maybe you were +scared you'd miss me in the dark? Anyway, you gave me a chance no real +gunman would have given. Guess you weren't more than a rabbit in my +hands. Say, can you swim? Ah, don't feel like talking," he added, as +the man still kept to his angry silence. "Anyway you'll need to. +You've got off mighty light. Maybe a bath won't come amiss." + +He bent down and before the Breed was aware of his intention he seized +him in his arms and picked him up much as he might have picked up some +small child. + +Then the struggle began afresh. But it was hopeless from the outset. +Louis Creal, unarmed, was powerless in the bear-like embrace of John +Kars. Struggling and cursing, the half-breed was borne to the water's +edge, held poised for a few seconds, then flung with all the strength +of the white man into the rapid waters of the Bell River. + +Kars only waited to see him rise to the surface. Then, as the man was +carried down on the swift tide, swimming strongly, he turned away with +a laugh and hurried from the scene. + + +John Kars halted abruptly in response to a whistle. The sound came +from the thick scrub with which the low bank of the river beyond the +gorge was deeply overgrown. It was a whistle he knew. It came low and +rose to a piercing crescendo. Then it died away to its original note. +His answer was verbal. + +"That you, Charley?" he demanded. + +His demand was answered by the abrupt appearance of the figure of his +faithful scout from within the bush. + +"Sure, Boss. Charley him wait. Charley him hear much shoot. Boss +kill 'em plenty good?" + +Kars laughed. + +"Not kill 'em," he said. "Half-breed wash 'em in river." + +"Boss no kill 'em?" The Indian's disappointment was pathetic. + +"No-o." + +Kars passed a hand wearily across his eyes. There was a drag, too, in +his negative. It was almost indifferent. + +But the display of weakness was instantly swept aside by an energy +which cost him more than he knew. + +"It don't matter anyway," he cried. "We need to make camp--we must +make it quick." + +There was irritation in his manner, as well as energy. But then his +neglected wound was causing him infinite pain, and the loss of blood +aggravated it by a feeling of utter weariness. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT + +The fire spluttered just beyond the door of the tent. Its cheerful +light supported the efforts of the kerosene lamp within. Peigan +Charley squatted over its friendly warmth, his lean hands outheld to +its flickering blaze in truly Indian fashion. His position had been +taken up with a view to observing his wounded chief, whose condition +concerned him more than anything else in the world, except it was, +perhaps, his delight in driving the men of his own color under him, and +his absolute contempt for his own race. + +John Kars was lying on his blankets, yielding to the skilful attention +of Dr. Bill. His final journey from the gorge to the camp, ten miles +distant, had been perhaps the greatest effort of the night. But with +Charley's help, with the dogged resolve of a spirit that did not +understand defeat, it had been finally achieved. + +His wound was by no means serious. He knew that. Charley believed, in +his simple mind, that his boss was practically a dead man. Hence his +watchful regard now. Kars' trouble was little more than loss of blood, +and though his tremendous physique had helped him, his weakness during +the last two miles of the journey had demanded all his resources to +overcome. + +The dressing was complete. The last stitches had been put in the +bandages about the wound. Bill closed his instrument case, and +returned the bottles of antiseptic drugs to the miniature chest he +carried. He sat down on the blankets which were spread out for his own +use, and smiled genially down at his patient. + +"That's that," he said cheerfully. "But it was a lucky get out for +you, John. Say, a shade to the left, and that Breed would have handed +you a jugular in two parts. Just take it easy. You'll travel +to-morrow, after a night's sleep. Guess you'll be all whole against we +make Fort Mowbray. You best talk now, an' get rid of it all. Maybe +you'll sleep a deal easier after." + +"Thanks, Bill." + +Kars' regard of his friend said far more than his simple words. But +then the friendship between these two was of a quality which required +little enough of verbal expression. It was the friendship of two men +who have shared infinite perils together, of two men whose lives are +bound up in loyalty to each other. + +For some moments the wounded man made no response to the invitation. A +pleasant lassitude was at work upon him. It seemed a pity to disturb +it by the effort of talk. But it was necessary to talk, and he knew +that this was so. There were thoughts and questions in his mind that +must have the well-balanced consideration of his friend's calm mind. + +At last he broke the silence with an expletive which expressed +something of the enthusiasm he really felt. + +"Gee, what a strike!" he said, in a voice much weaker than his usual +tone. Then he added as an afterthought, "The gorge is chock full of +color. Just git a holt on that handkerchief in my pea-jacket and open +it. Say, handle it easy." + +He watched the other search the pockets of the coat lying at the foot +of his blankets. A great light shone in his gray eyes as Bill produced +the handkerchief and began to unfold it. Then, with a raging +impatience, he waited while the deposit he had collected from the +riffles of the sluice-box was examined under the lamplight. + +At last Bill raised his eyes, and Kars read there all he wanted to know. + +"It's mostly color. There's biggish stuff amongst it." + +"That's how I figgered." Kars' tone was full of contentment. + +"Well?" + +Bill carefully refolded the handkerchief, and laid it beside his +medicine chest. + +Kars emitted a sound like a chuckle, + +"Oh, it was a bully play," he said. Then, after a moment: "Listen, +I'll tell it from the start." + +Kars talked, with occasional pauses, for nearly half an hour. He +detailed the events of the night in the barest outline, and only dealt +closely with the fact of the gold workings. These he explained with +the technicalities necessary between experts. He dwelt upon his +estimate of the quality of the auriferous deposits as he had been able +to make it in the darkness, and from his sense of touch. The final +story of his encounter with Louis Creal only seemed to afford him +amusement in the telling. + +"You see, Bill," he added, "that feller must have been sick to death. +I mean finding himself with just the squaws and the fossils left around +when we come along. His play was clear as daylight. He tried to scare +us like a brace of rabbits to be quit of us. It was our bull-headed +luck to hit the place right when we did. I mean finding the neches out +on a trail of murder instead of lying around their teepees." + +"Yes. But we're going to get them on our trail anyway." + +"Sure we are--when he's rounded 'em up." + +Bill produced his timepiece and studied it reflectively. + +"It's an hour past midnight," he said. "We'll need to be on the move +with daylight. We best hand them all the mileage we can make. We've +got to act bright." + +He sat lost in thought for some minutes, his watch still held in the +palm of his hand. He was thinking of the immediate rather than of the +significance of his friend's discovery. His cheerful face was grave. +He was calculating chances with all the care of a clear-thinking, +experienced brain. + +John Kars was thinking too. But the direction which absorbed him was +quite different. He was regarding his discovery in connection with +Fort Mowbray. + +At last he stirred restlessly. + +"I can't get it right!" he exclaimed. "I just can't." + +"How's that?" + +Bill's plans were complete. For a day or so he knew that his would be +the responsibility. Kars would have to take things easy. + +"What can't you get right?" he added. + +"Why, the whole darn play of it. That strike has been worked years, +I'd say. We've trailed this country with eyes and ears mighty wide. +Guess we haven't run into a thing about Bell River but what's darn +unpleasant. Years that's been waiting. Shrieking for us to get around +and help ourselves. Gee, I want to kick something." + +Bill regarded his friend with serious eyes. + +"You're going to butt in? You're going to play a hand in that--game?" + +Kars' eyes widened in surprise. + +"Sure." Then he added, "So are you." He smiled. + +Bill shook his head. + +"Not willingly--me," he said. + +"Why not?" + +Bill stretched himself out on his blankets. He was fully dressed. He +intended to pass the night that way. He clasped his hands behind his +neck, and his gaze was on the firelight beyond the door. + +"First, because it's taking a useless chance. You don't need it," he +said deliberately. "Second, because that was Allan Mowbray's strike. +It was his big secret that he'd worked most of his days for, and, in +the end, gave his life for. If we butt in there'll come a rush, and +you'll rob a widow and a young girl who've never done you injury. It +don't sound to me your way." + +"You think Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie know of it?" + +Bill glanced round quickly. + +"Mrs. Mowbray--sure." + +"Ah--not Jessie?" + +"Can't say. Maybe not. More than likely--not." + +"Alec?" + +Bill shook his head decidedly. + +"Not that boy." + +"Murray McTavish?" + +"He knows." + +Kars nodded agreement. + +"He knew when he was lying to me he didn't understand Allan visiting +Bell River," he said. + +Kars' eyes had become coldly contemplative. And in the brief silence +that followed, for all his intimate understanding of his friend, Bill +Brudenell was unable even to guess at the thoughts passing behind the +icy reserve which seemed to have settled upon him. + +But his questions found an answer much sooner than he expected. The +silence was broken by a short, hard laugh of something like +self-contempt. + +"You an' me, Bill. We're going up there with an outfit that knows all +about scrapping, and something about gold. We're going up there, and +d'you know why? Oh, not to rob a widow and orphan." He laughed again +in the same fashion. "Not a soul's got to know, or be wise to our +play," he went on. "The strike they've worked won't be touched by us. +We'll make our own. But for once gold isn't all we need. There's +something else. I tell you I can't rest till we find it. There's a +gal, Bill, on the Snake River, with eyes made to smile most all the +time. They did--till Allan Mowbray got done up. Well, I got a notion +they'll smile again some day, but it won't be till I've located just +how her father came by his end, after years of working with the Bell +River neches. I want to see those eyes smile, Bill. I want to see 'em +smile bad. Maybe you think me some fool man. I allow I'm wiser than +you guess. Maybe, even, I'm wiser than you, who've never yearned to +see a gal's eyes smiling into yours in all your forty-three years. +That's why we're going to butt in on that strike, and you're coming +right along with me if I have to yank you there by your mighty badly +fledged scalp." + +Bill had turned over on his side. His shrewd eyes were smiling. + +"Sounds like fever," he said, in his pleasant way. "I'll need to take +the patient's temperature. Say, John, you won't have to haul on my +scalp for any play like that. I'm in it--right up to my neck. That +I've lived to see the day John Kars talks of marrying makes me feel +I've not lived----" + +"He's not talking of marriage," came the swift retort with flushed +cheeks. + +"No. But he's thinking it. Which, in a man like John Kars, comes +pretty near meaning the same thing. Did you ask her, boy?" + +Just for a moment resentment lit the other's eyes. It was on his +tongue to make a sharp retort. But, under the deep, new emotion +stirring him, an emotion that made him rather crave for a sympathy +which, in all his strong life, he had never felt the necessity before, +the desire melted away. In place of it he yielded to a rush of +enthusiasm which surprised himself almost as much as it did his old +friend. + +"No, Bill." He laughed. "I--hadn't the nerve to. I don't know as +I'll ever have the nerve to. But I want that little gal bad. I want +her so bad I feel I could get right out an' trail around these +darnation hills, an' skitter holes, hollering 'help' like some mangy +coyote chasing up her young. Oh, I'm going to ask her. I'll have to +ask her, if I have to get you to hand me the dope to fix my nerve +right. And, say, if she hands me the G. B. for that bladder of +taller-fat, Murray, why I'll just pack my traps, and hit the trail for +Bell River, and I'll sit around and kill off every darned neche so she +can keep right on handing herself all the gold she needs till she's +sitting atop of a mountain of it, which is just about where I'd like to +set her with these two dirty hands." + +His eyes smiled as he held out his hands. But he went on at once. + +"Now you've got it all. And I guess we'll let it go at that. You and +me, we're going to set right out on this new play. There isn't going +to be a word handed to a soul at the Fort, or anywhere else. Not a +word. There's things behind Allan Mowbray's death we don't know. But +that dirty half-breed knows 'em, if we don't. And the gold on the +river has a big stake in the game. That being so, the folk Allan left +behind him are to be robbed. Follow it? It kind of seems to me the +folk at the Fort are helpless. But--but we aren't. So it's up to me, +seeing how I feel about that little gal." + +Kars had propped himself up under the effect of his rising excitement. +Now, as he finished speaking, he dropped back on his blankets with some +display of weariness. + +Bill's eyes were watching him closely. He was wondering how much of +this he would have heard had Kars been his usual, robust self. He did +not think he would have heard so much. + +He rose from his blankets. + +"I'm all in, boy, on this enterprise," he said, in his amiable way. +"Meanwhile I'm dousing this light. You'll sleep then." + +He blew out the lamp before the other could protest. + +"I'll just get a peek at the boys on watch. I need to fix things with +Charley for the start up to-morrow." + +He passed out of the tent crawling on his hands and knees. Nor did he +return till he felt sure that his patient was well asleep. + +Even then he did not seek his own blankets. For a moment he studied +his friend's breathing with all his professional skill alert. Then, +once more, he withdrew, and took his place at the camp-fire beside +Peigan Charley. + +The first sign of dawn saw the camp astir. Kars was accommodated with +one of the Alaskan ponies under pressure from Bill, as the doctor. The +whole outfit was on the move before daylight had matured. Neither the +scout, nor the two white men were deceived. Each knew that they were +not likely to make the headwaters of Snake River without molestation. + +How right they were was abundantly proved on the afternoon of the +second day. + +They were passing through a wide defile, with the hills on either side +of them rising to several hundreds of feet of dense forest. It was a +shorter route towards their objective, but more dangerous by reason of +the wide stretching tundra it was necessary to skirt. + +Half-way through this defile came the first sign. It came with the +distant crack of a rifle. Then the whistle of a speeding bullet, and +the final "spat" of it as it embedded itself in an adjacent tree-trunk. +Everybody understood. But it took Peigan Charley to sum up the +situation, and the feeling of, at least, the leaders of the outfit. + +"Fool neche!" he exclaimed, with a world of contemptuous regard flung +in the direction whence came the sound. "Shoot lak devil. Much shoot. +Plenty. Oh, yes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FALL TRADE + +The fall trade of the post was in full swing, and gave to the river, +and the approaches of the Fort, an air of activity such as it usually +lacked. Murray McTavish seemed to blossom under the pressure of the +work entailed. His good humor became intensified, and his smile +radiated upon the world about him. These times were the opportunity he +found for the display of his abounding energies. They were healthy +times, healthy for mind and body. To watch his activities was to +marvel that he still retained the grossness of figure he so deplored. + +A number of canoes were moored at the Mission landing. Others were +secured at piles driven into the banks of the river. These were the +boats of the Indians and half-breeds who came to trade their summer +harvest at the old post. A few days later and these same craft would +be speeding in the direction of distant homes, under the swift strokes +of the paddle, bearing a modicum of winter stores as a result of their +owner's traffic. + +And what a mixed trade it was. Furs. Rough dried pelts, ranging from +bear to fox, from seal to Alaskan sable. Furs of thirty or forty +descriptions, each with its definite market value, poured into the +Fort. The lucky pelt hunters were the men who brought black-fox, and +Alaskan sable, or a few odd seals from the uncontrolled hunting grounds +within the Arctic circle. These men departed with amply laden canoes, +with, amongst their more precious trophies, inferior modern rifles and +ammunition. + +But these voyageurs did not make up the full tally of the fall trade +which gave Murray so much joy. There were the men of the long trail. +The long, land trail. Men who came with their whole outfit of +belongings, women and children as well. They packed on foot, and on +ponies, and in weird vehicles of primitive manufacture, accompanied by +the dogs which would be needed for haulage should the winter snows +overtake them before they completed their return journey. + +These were of the lesser class trade. It was rare enough to obtain a +parcel of the more valuable pelts from these folk. But they not +infrequently brought small parcels of gold dust, which experience had +taught them the curious mind of the white man set such store by. + +Gold came in shyly, however, in the general trade. Indian methods were +far too primitive in procuring it. Besides which, for all the value of +it, traders in these remotenesses were apt to discourage its pursuit. +It was difficult to understand the psychology of the trader on the +subject. But no doubt he was largely influenced by the fear of a white +invasion of his territory, should the news of the gold trade leak out. +Maybe he argued that the stability of his legitimate trade was +preferable to the risks of competition which an influx of white folk +would bring. Anyway, open trade of this nature was certainly +comparatively discouraged. + +But Murray was not alone in the work of the fall trade. Ailsa Mowbray +supported him in a very definite share. She had returned to the work +of the store, such as she had undertaken in the days when her husband +was alive and Murray had not yet made his appearance upon the river. +Then, too, Alec had returned from his summer trail, his first real +adventure without the guiding hand of his father to direct him. He had +returned disillusioned. He had returned discontented. His summer bag +was incomparable with his effort. It was far below that of the average +river Indians. + +He went back to the store, to the work he disliked, without any +willingness, and only under the pressure of his perturbed mother and +sister. Furthermore, he quickly began to display signs of rebellion +against Murray McTavish's administration of affairs. + +Murray was considering this attitude just now. He was standing alone, +just within the gates of the Fort, and his meditative gaze was turned +upon a wonderful sunset which lit the distant heights of the outspread +glacial field with a myriad of varying tints. + +There had been words with Alec only a few minutes before. It was on +the subject of appraising values. Alec, in a careless, haphazard +fashion, had baled some inferior pelts with a number of very beautiful +foxes. Murray had discovered it by chance, and his words to the youth +had been sharply admonishing. + +Alec, tall as his father had been, muscular, bull-necked in his +youthful physical strength, bull-headed in his passionate impetuosity, +had flared up immoderately. + +"Then do it your darn self!" he cried, the hot blood surging to his +cheeks, and his handsome eyes aflame. "Maybe you think I'm hired man +in this layout, an' you can hand me any old dope you fancy. Well, I +tell you right here, you need to quit it. I don't stand for a thing +from you that way. You'll bale your own darn buys, or get the boys to +do it." + +With this parting the work of his day was terminated. He departed for +the Mission clearing, leaving Murray to digest his words at leisure. + +Murray was digesting them now. They were rankling. Bitterly rankling +in a memory which rarely forgot things. But his round, ample face +displayed no definite feeling other than that which its tendency +towards a smile suggested. + +His own work was finished. Though he would not have admitted it he was +tired, weary of the chaffer of it all. But his weariness was only the +result of a day's labor, mental and physical, from sunrise to sunset. + +The scene before him seemed to hold him. His big eyes never wavered +for a moment. There was something of the eagle in the manner in which +they stared unflinchingly at the radiant brilliancy of the western sky. + +He stood thus for a long time. He displayed no sign of wearying of his +contemplation. It was only an unusual sound which finally changed the +direction of his gaze. + +It was the soft shuffle of moccasined feet that reached his quick ears. +It was coming up from the wooded slopes below him, a direction which +came from the river, but not from the landing. His questioning eyes +searched closely the sharp cut, where the pine trees gave way to the +bald crown on which the Fort stood. And presently two figures loomed +out of the shadow of the woods, and paused at the edge of them. + +They were Indians in beaded buckskin, and each was laboring under a +burden of pelts which seemed unusually heavy for its size. They were +armed, too, with long rifles of a comparatively modern type. + +Some moments passed while they surveyed the figure at the gates. Then, +after the exchange of a few words between themselves, they came +steadily on towards the Fort. + +Murray waited. The men approached. Neither spoke until the men halted +in front of the trader and relieved themselves of their burdens. Then +it was that Murray spoke, and he spoke fluently in an Indian tongue. +The men responded in their brief spasmodic fashion. After which the +white man led the way into the store. + +The incident was one such as might have occurred any time during these +days of busy trading. There was certainly nothing peculiar about it in +its general outline. And yet there was a subtle suggestion of +something peculiar in it. Perhaps it was in the weight of the bales of +pelts these men carried. Perhaps it was that Murray had addressed them +in a definite Indian tongue first, without waiting to ascertain whence +they hailed, or to what small tribe they belonged. Perhaps it was the +lateness of the hour, and the chance that Murray should be waiting +there after the day's work was completed, when it was his eager custom +to seek his evening meal down at Ailsa Mowbray's home, and spend his +brief leisure in company of Alec's sister. + +It was nearly an hour before the two Indians reappeared. When they did +so the last of the splendid sunset had disappeared behind the distant +peaks. They left the Fort relieved of their goods, and bearing in +their hands certain bundles of trade. They hurried away down the slope +and vanished into the woods. And some minutes later the sound of the +dipping paddles came faintly up upon the still evening air. + +Murray had not yet reappeared. And it was still some time before his +bulky form was visible hurrying down the short cut to the Mission +clearing. + + +The evening meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house was more than half over when +Murray appeared. He bustled into the little family circle, radiating +good humor and friendliness. There could be no doubt of his apparent +mood. + +The comfort and homeliness of the atmosphere into which he plunged were +beyond words. The large room was well lit with good quality oil lamps, +whose warmth of light was mellow, and left sufficient shadow in the +remoter corners to rob the scene of any garishness. The stove was +roaring under its opened damper. The air smelt warm and good, and the +pungent odor of hot coffee was not without pleasure to the hungry man. + +Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie retained their seats at the amply filled table. +But Alec rose from his and departed without a word, or even a glance in +Murray's smiling direction. The rudeness, the petulance of his action! +These things left his mother and sister in suspense. + +But Murray took charge of the situation with a promptness and ease that +cleared what looked like the further gathering of storm-clouds. + +"Say, ma'am," he cried at once, "I just deserve all you feel like +saying, but don't say, anyway. Late? Why, I guess I'm nearly an hour +late. But I got hung up with some freight coming in just as I was +quitting. I'm real sorry. Maybe Jessie here's going to hand me some +words. That so, Jessie?" + +His smiling eyes sought the girl's with kindly good nature. But Jessie +did not respond. Her eyes were serious, and her mother came to her +rescue. + +"That doesn't matter a thing, Murray," she said, in her straightforward +fashion, as she poured out the man's coffee, while he took his seat +opposite Jessie. Then she glanced at the door through which Alec had +taken himself off. "But what's this with Alec? You've had words. +He's been telling us, and he seems mad about things, and--you. What's +the matter with the boy? What's the matter between you, anyway?" + +The man shrugged helplessly. Nor would his face mold itself into a +display of seriousness to match the two pairs of beautiful eyes +regarding him. + +"Why, I guess we had a few words," he said easily. "Maybe I was hasty. +Maybe he was. It don't figure anyway. And, seeing it's not Alec's way +to lie about things, I don't suppose there's need for me to tell you +the story of it. Y'see, ma'am, I ought to remember Alec's just a boy +full of high spirits, and that sort of thing, but, in the rush of work, +why, it isn't always easy. After supper I figger to get a yarn with +him and fix things up." + +Then he laughed with such a ring of genuineness that Jessie found +herself responding to it, and even her mother's eyes smiled. + +"I'm not easy when I'm on the jump. I guess nobody is, not even Alec." +Murray turned to Jessie. "It's queer folks act the way they do. Ever +see two cats play? They're the best of friends. They'll play an hour, +clawing and biting. Then in a second it's dead earnest. The fur you +could gather after that would stuff a--down pillow." + +Jessie's smile had vanished. She sighed. + +"But it's not that way with you two folk. The cats will be playing +around again in five minutes. Alec's up against you all the time. And +you?" + +Murray's smile still remained. + +"Alec's his father's son, I guess. His father was my best friend. His +mother and sister I hope and believe are that way, too." Then quite +suddenly his big eyes became almost painfully serious. The deep glow +in them shone out at those he was facing. "Say, I'm going to tell you +folks just how I feel about this thing. It kind of seems this is the +moment to talk clear out. Alec's trouble is the life here. I can see +it most every way. He's a good boy. He's got points I'd like to know +I possess. He's his father over again, without his father's +experience. Say, he's a blood colt that needs the horse-breaker of +Life, and, unless he gets it, all the fine points in him are going to +get blunted and useless, and there's things in him going to grow up and +queer him for life. He needs to think right, and we folks here can't +teach him that way. Not even Father José. There's jest one thing to +teach him, and that's Life itself--on his own. If I figger right he'll +flounder around. He'll hit snags. He'll get bumped, and, maybe, have +some nasty falls. But it's the only way for a boy of his spirit, +and--weakness." + +"Weakness?" + +Jessie's echo came sharply. She resented the charge with all a +sister's loyalty. But her mother took up her challenge. + +"I'm afraid Murray's right--in a way," she admitted, with a sigh. She +hated the admission, but she and her dead husband had long since +arrived at the same conclusion. "It worries me to think of," she went +on. "And it worries me to think of him out on the world--alone. I +wish I knew what's best. I've talked to Father José, and he agrees +with you, Murray. But----" + +For some moments Jessie had been thinking hard. She was angry with +Murray. She was almost angry with her mother. Now she looked over at +the man, and her pretty eyes had a challenge in them. + +"I'll go and ask Alec to come right along here," she said. "You can +talk to him here and now, Murray. Let him decide things for himself, +and you, mother, abide by them. You both guess he's a boy. He's not. +He's a man. And he's going to be a good man. There never was any good +in women trying to think for men, any more than men-folk can think for +women. And there's no use in Murray handing us these things when +Alec's not here." + +She started up from her seat. Her mother protested. + +"It'll make trouble, Jessie," she said sharply. "The boy's in no mood +for talk--with Murray," she added warningly. + +But Murray, himself, became the deciding factor. + +"Jessie's right, ma'am," he said quickly. + +And in those words he came nearer to the good-will he sought in the +girl than he had ever been before. + +"You'll talk to him as you've--said to us?" the mother demanded. + +Murray's smile was warmly affirmative. + +"I'll do all I know." + +Ailsa Mowbray was left without further protest. But she offered no +approval. Just for one second Jessie glanced in her mother's +direction. It was the girl in her seeking its final counsel from the +source towards which it always looked. But as none was forthcoming she +was left to the fact of Murray's acceptance of her challenge. + +She turned from the table and passed out of the room. + +Ailsa Mowbray raised a pair of handsome, troubled eyes to the factor's +face. Her confidence in this man was second only to the confidence she +had always had in her husband's judgment. + +"Do you think it wise?" she demurred. + +"It's the only thing, ma'am," Murray replied seriously. "Jessie's dead +right." He held up one fleshy hand and clenched it tightly. "Trouble +needs to be crushed like that--firmly. There's a whole heap of trouble +lying around in this thing. I've got to do the best for the folks +Allan left behind, ma'am, and in this I guess Jessie's shown me the +way. Do you feel you best step around while I talk to Alec? There's +liable to be awkward moments." + +The mother understood. She had no desire to pry into the methods of +men in their dealings with each other. She rose from the table and +passed into her kitchen beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT + +Murray McTavish was standing before the glowing wood stove when Alec +entered the room. The factor was gazing down at the iron box of it +with his fat, strong hands outspread to the warmth. He was not cold. +He had no desire for the warmth. He was thinking. + +He was not a prepossessing figure. His clothing bulged in almost every +direction. In age this loses its ugliness. In a young man there is no +more painful disadvantage. His dark hair was smoothly brushed, almost +to sleekness. His clothing was good, and by no means characteristic of +the country. He was the epitome of a business man of civilization, +given, perhaps, to indulgence in the luxuries of the table. Nature had +acted unkindly by him. He knew it, and resented it with passionate +bitterness. + +Alec Mowbray displayed no hesitation. He entered the room quickly, and +in a truculent way, and closed the door with some sharpness behind him. +The action displayed his mood. And something of his character, too. + +Murray took him in from head to foot without appearing to observe him. +Nor was his regard untinged with envy. The youngster was over six feet +in height. In his way he was as handsome as his mother had been. +There was much of his dead father about him, too. But his eyes had +none of the steadiness of either of his parents. His mouth was soft, +and his chin was too pointed, and without the thrust of power. But for +all these things his looks were beyond question. His fair, crisply +curling hair, his handsome eyes, must have given him an appeal to +almost any woman. Murray felt that this was so. He envied him and---- +He looked definitely in the boy's direction in response to a rough +challenge. + +"Well--what is it?" + +Murray's shining eyes gazed steadily at him. The smile so usual to him +had been carefully set aside. It left his face almost expressionless +as he replied. + +"I want to tell you I'm sorry for--this afternoon. Darn sorry. I was +on the jump with work, and didn't pause to think. I hadn't the right +to act the way I did. And--well, I guess I'm real sorry. Will you +shake?" + +The boy was all impulse, and his impulses were untainted by anything +more serious than hot-headed resentment and momentary intolerance. +Much of his dislike of Murray was irresponsible instinct. He knew, in +his calmer moments, he had neither desire nor reason to dislike Murray. +Somehow the dislike had grown up with him, as sometimes a boy's dislike +of some one in authority over him grows up--without reason or +understanding. + +But Murray's amends were too deliberate and definite to fail to appeal +to all that was most generous and impulsive in Alec. It was impossible +for him to listen to a man like Murray, generously apologizing to him, +without going more than half-way to meet him. His face cleared of its +shadow. His hot eyes smiled, as many times Murray had seen his mother +smile. He came towards the stove with outstretched hand. A hand that +could crush like a vice. + +"Why, you just don't need to say another word, Murray," he exclaimed. +"And, anyway, I guess you were right. I'd slacked on those pelts and +knew it, and--and that's what made me mad--you lighting on it." + +The two men shook hands, and Alec, as he withdrew his, passed it across +his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. + +"But say, Murray," he went on, in a tone of friendliness that rarely +existed between them. "I'm sick. Sick to death with it all--and +that's about the whole of the trouble. It's no sort of good. I can't +even keep my mind on the work, let alone do it right. I hate the old +store. Guess I must get out. I need to feel I can breathe. I need to +live. Say, I feel like some darn cabbage setting around in the middle +of a patch. Jess doesn't understand. Mother doesn't. Sometimes I +kind of fancy Father José understands. But you know. You've lived in +the world. You've seen it all, and know it. Well, say, am I to be +kept around this forgotten land till my whiskers freeze into sloppy +icicles? I just can't do it. I've tried. Maybe you'll never know how +I've tried--because of mother, and Jess, and the old dad. Well, I've +quit now. I've got to get out a while, or--or things are going to +bust. Do you know how I feel? Do you get me? I'll be crazy with six +months more of this Fort, and these rotten neches. Gee! When I think +how John Kars has lived, and where he's lived, it gets me beat seeing +him hunting the long trail in these back lands." + +Murray's smile had returned. But it was encouraging and friendly, and +lacked all fixity. + +"Maybe the other life set him crazy, same as this is fixing you," he +said, with perfect amiability. + +The boy laughed incredulously. He flung himself into his mother's +chair, and looked up at Murray's face above the stove. + +"I don't believe that life could set folk crazy. There's too much to +it," he laughed. He went on a moment later with a warmth of enthusiasm +that must have been heart-breaking to those of greater experience. +"Think of a city," he cried, almost ecstatically. "A big, live city. +All lights at night, and all rushing in daylight. Men eager and +striving in competition. Meeting, and doing, and living. Women, +beautiful, and dressed like pictures, with never a thought but the joy +of life, and the luxury of it all. And these folk without a smell of +the dollars we possess. Folk without a difference from us. Think of +the houses, the shows, the railroads. The street cars. The sleighs. +The automobiles. The hotels. The dance halls. The--the--oh, gee, it +makes me sick to think of all I've missed and you've seen. I can't--I +just can't stand for it much longer." + +Murray nodded. + +"Guess I--understand." Then, in a moment, his eyes became serious, as +though some feeling stirred them that prompted a warning he was +powerless to withhold. "It's an elegant picture, the way you see it. +But it's not the only picture. The other picture comes later in life, +and if I tried to paint it for you I don't reckon you'd be able to see +it--till later in life. Anyway, a man needs to make his own +experience. Guess the world's all you see in it, sure. But there's a +whole heap in it you don't see--now. Say, and those things you don't +see are darn ugly. So ugly the time'll come you can't stand for 'em +any more than you can stand for the dozy life around here now. Those +folk you see in your dandy picture are wage slaves worshiping the gods +of this darned wilderness just as we are right here. Just as are all +the folks who come around this country, and I'd say there's many folks +hating all the things you fancy, as bad as you hate the life you've +been raised to right here. Still, I guess it's up to you." + +"I'd give a heap to have mother think that way," Alec responded with a +shade of moodiness. + +"She does think that way." + +The youngster sprang from his chair. His eyes were shining, and a +joyous flush mounted to his handsome brow. There was no mistaking the +reckless youth in him. + +"She does? Then--say, it's you who've persuaded her. There hasn't +been a day she hasn't tried to keep me right here, like--like some darn +kid. She figgers it's up to me to choose what I'll do?" he cried +incredulously. + +Murray nodded. His eyes were studying the youth closely. + +"Then I'll tell her right away." Alec laughed a whole-hearted, +care-free laugh. "I'll ask her for a stake, and then for Leaping +Horse. Maybe Seattle, and 'Frisco--New York! Murray, if you've done +this for me, I'm your slave for life. Say, I'd come near washing your +clothes for you, and I can't think of a thing lower. You'll back me +when I put it to her?" + +"There's no need. She'll do just as you say." + +Murray's moment of serious regard had passed. He was smiling his +inscrutable smile again. + +"When? When?" + +The eagerness of it. It was almost tragic. + +"Best go down with me," Murray said. "I'm making Leaping Horse early +this fall on the winter trail. I'm needing stocks. I'm needing arms +and stuff. How'd that fix you?" + +"Bully!" Then the boy laughed out of the joy of his heart. "But fix +it early. Fix it good and early." + +The exclamation came in such a tone that pity seemed the only emotion +for it to inspire. + +But Murray had finished. Whatever he felt there was no display of any +emotion in him. And pity the least of all. He crossed to the door +which opened into the kitchen. He opened it. In response to his call +Ailsa Mowbray appeared, followed by Jessie. + +Murray indicated Alec with a nod. + +"We're good friends again," he said. "We've acted like two school +kids, eh, Alec?" he added. "And now we've made it up. Alec figgers +he'd like to go down with me this fall to Leaping Horse, Seattle, +'Frisco, and maybe even New York. I told him I guessed you'd stake +him." + +The widowed mother did not reply at once. The aging face was turned in +the direction of the son who meant so much to her. Her eyes, so +handsome and steady, were wistful. They gazed into the joy-lit face of +her boy. She could not deny him. + +"Sure, Alec, dear. Just ask me what you need--if you must go." + +Jessie gazed from one to the other of the three people her life seemed +bound up with. Alec she loved but feared for, in her girlish wisdom. +Murray she did not understand. Her mother she loved with a devotion +redoubled since her father's murder. Moreover, she regarded her with +perfect trust in her wisdom. + +The change wrought by Murray in a few minutes, however, was too +startling for her. Their destinies almost seemed to be swayed by him. +It seemed to her alarming, and not without a vague suggestion of terror. + + +Father José was lounging over his own wood stove in the comfort of a +pair of felt slippers, his feet propped up on the seat of another chair. + +He was a quaint little figure in his black, unclerical suit, and the +warm cloth cap of a like hue drawn carefully over a wide expanse of +baldness which Nature had imposed upon him. His alert face, with its +eyes whose keenness was remarkable and whose color nearly matched the +fringe of gray hair still left to him, gave him an interest which +gained nothing from his surroundings in the simple life he lived. It +was a face of intellect, and gentle-heartedness. It was a face of +purpose, too. The purpose which urges the humbler devotee to a charity +which takes the form of human rather than mere spiritual help. + +Father José loved humanity because it was humanity. Creed and race +made no difference to him. It was his way to stand beside the stile of +Life ready to help any, and everybody, over it who needed his help. He +saw little beyond that. He concerned himself with no doctrine in the +process. Help--physical, moral. That was his creed. And every day of +his life he lived up to it. + +The habits of the white folk at St. Agatha Mission varied little enough +from day to day. It was the custom to foregather at Mrs. Mowbray's +home in the evening. After which, with unfailing regularity, Murray +McTavish was wont to join the little priest in his Mission House for a +few minutes before retiring for the night to his sleeping quarters up +at the Fort. + +It was eleven o'clock, and the two men were together now in the shanty +which served the priest as a home. + +It was a pathetic parody of all that home usually conveys. The comfort +of it was only the comfort radiating from the contentment of the owner +in it. Its structure was powerful to resist storm. Its furnishing was +that which the priest had been able to manufacture himself. But the +stove had been a present from Allan Mowbray. The walls were whitened +with a lime wash which disguised the primitive plaster filling in +between the lateral logs. There were some photographs pinned up to +help disguise other defects. There were odds and ends of bookshelves +hung about, all laden to the limit of their capacity with a library +which had been laboriously collected during the long life of Mission +work. Four rough chairs formed the seating accommodation. A table, +made with a great expenditure of labor, and covered with an old +blanket, served as a desk. Then, at the far end of the room, under a +cotton ceiling, to save them from the dust from the thatch above, stood +four trestle beds, each with ample blankets spread over it. Three of +these were for wayfarers, and the fourth, in emergency, for the same +purpose. Otherwise the fourth was Father José's own bed. Behind this +building, and opening out of it, was a kitchen. This was the entire +habitation of a man who had dedicated his life to the service of others. + +Murray was sitting at the other side of the stove and his bulky figure +was only partly visible to the priest from behind the stovepipe. Both +men were smoking their final pipe before retiring. The priest was +listening to the trader in that watchful manner of one deeply +interested. They were talking of Alec, and the prospects of the new +decision. Murray's thoughts were finding harsh expression. + +"Say, we're all between the devil and the deep sea," he said, with a +hard laugh. "The boy's only fit to be tied to a woman's strings. +That's how I see it. Just as I see the other side of it. He's got to +be allowed to make his own gait. If he doesn't, why--things are just +going to break some way." + +The priest nodded. He was troubled, and his trouble looked out of his +keen eyes. + +"Yes," he agreed. "And the devil's mostly in the deep waters, too. +It's devil all around." + +"Sure it is." Murray bent down to the stove and lit a twist of paper +for his pipe. "Do you know the thing that's going to happen? When we +get clear away from here, and that boy's pocket is filled with the +bills his ma has handed him, I'll have as much hold on him as he's +going to have on those dollars. If I butt in he'll send me to hell +quick. And if I don't feel like taking his dope lying down there'll be +something like murder done. If I'm any judge of boys, or men, that +kid's going to find every muck hole in Leaping Horse--and there's +some--and he's going to wallow in 'em till some one comes along and +hauls him clear of the filth. What he's going to be like after--why, +the thought makes me sweat! And Allan--Allan was my friend." + +"But--you advised his mother?" The priest's eyes were searching. + +Murray crushed his paper tight in his hand. + +"How'd you have done?" he demanded shortly. + +The priest weighed his words before replying. + +"The same as you," he said at last. "Life's full up of pot holes. We +can't learn to navigate right if we don't fall into some of them. I've +taught that boy from his first days. He's the makings of anything, in +a way. He can't be kept here. He's got to get out, and work off his +youthful insanity. Whatever comes of it, it won't be so bad as if he +stopped around. I think you've done the best." He sighed. "We must +hope, and watch, and--be ready to help when the signal comes. God +grant he comes to no----" + +He broke off and turned towards the heavy closed door of the shanty, in +response to a sharp knocking. In a moment he was on his feet as the +door was thrust open, and two familiar figures pushed their way in. + +"Why, John Kars, this is the best sight I've had in weeks," cried the +priest, with cordiality in every tone of his voice, and every feature +of his honest face. "And, Dr. Bill, too? This is fine. Come right +in." + +The Padre's cordiality found full reflection in his visitors' faces as +they wrung his hand. + +"It's been some hustle getting here," said Kars. "There wasn't a +chance sending on word. We made the landing, and came right along up. +Ha, Murray. Say, we're in luck." + +Both men shook hands with the factor, while the priest drew up the +other chairs to the stove, which he replenished with a fresh supply of +logs from the corner of the room. + +"But I guess we're birds of bad omen," Kars went on, addressing Murray +in particular. "The neches are out on Bell River, and they sniped us +right along down to within twenty miles of the Fort." + +"The Bell River neches within twenty miles of the Fort?" + +It was the priest who answered him. His question was full of alarm. +He was thinking of the women of the Mission, white as well as colored. + +Murray remained silent while Kars and Bill dropped wearily into the +chairs set for them. Then, as the great bulk of the man he disliked +settled itself, and he held out his chilled hands to the comforting +stove, his voice broke the silence which followed on the priest's +expression of alarm. + +"Best tell us it right away. We'll need to act quick," he said, his +eyes shining under the emotion stirring him. + +Kars looked across at the gross figure which suggested so little of the +man's real energy. His steady eyes were unreadable. His thoughts were +his own, masked as emphatically as any Indian chief's at a council. + +"They handed me this," he said, with a hard laugh, indicating the +bandage which still surrounded his neck, although his wound had almost +completely healed under the skilful treatment of Dr. Bill. "We hit +their trail nearly two days from Bell River. They'd massacred an +outfit of traveling Indians, and burnt their camp out. However, we +kept ahead of them, and made the headwaters of the river. But we +didn't shake 'em. Not by a sight. They hung on our trail, I guess, +for nearly three weeks. We lost 'em twenty miles back. That's all." + +Bill and the priest sat with eyes on Murray. The responsibility of the +post was his. Kars, too, seemed to be looking to the factor. + +Murray gave no outward sign for some moments. His dark eyes were +burning with the deep fires which belonged to them. He sat still. +Quite still. Then he spoke, and something of the force of the man rang +in his words. + +"We got the arms for an outfit. But I don't guess we got enough for +defence of the post. It can't come to that. We daren't let it. I'm +getting a big outfit up this fall. Meanwhile, we'll need to get busy." + +He pulled out his timepiece and studied it deliberately. Then he +closed its case with a snap and stood up. He looked down into Kars' +watchful eyes. + +"They're on the river? Twenty miles back?" + +His questions came sharply, and Kars nodded. + +"They're in big force?" + +Again Kars made a sign, but this time in the negative. + +"I don't think it," he said. + +"Right. I'll be on the trail in an hour." + +The factor turned to the Padre. + +"Say, just rouse out the boys while I get other things fixed. There +isn't a minute to waste." + +He waited for no reply, but turned at once to Kars and Bill. + +"Maybe you fellers'll keep your outfit right here. There's the +women-folk. It's in case of--accident?" + +"I'll join you, and leave Bill, here, with the Padre and the outfit." +Kars' suggestion came on the instant. + +But Murray vetoed it promptly. He shook his head. + +"It's up to me," he said curtly. Then he became more expansive. +"You've had yours. I'm looking for mine. I'm getting out for the sake +of the women-folk. That's why I'm asking you to stop right here. You +can't tell. Maybe they'll need all the help we can hand them. I've +always figgered on this play. Best act my way." + +There was something like a flicker of the eyelid as Kars acquiesced +with a nod. Except for that his rugged face was deadly serious. He +filled his pipe with a leisureliness which seemed incompatible with the +conditions of the moment. Bill seemed to be engrossed in the study of +the stove. Murray had turned to the Padre. + +"Not a word to the women. We don't need to scare them. This thing's +got to be fixed sudden and sharp." + +A moment later he was gone. + +The Padre was climbing into a heavy overcoat. The night was chill +enough, and the little missionary had more warmth in his heart than he +had in his blood channels. He moved across to the door to do his part +of the work, when Kars' voice arrested him. + +"Say, Padre," he cried, "don't feel worried too much. Murray'll fix +things." + +His eyes were smiling as the priest turned and looked into them. Bill +was smiling, too. + +"They _are_ twenty miles back--on the river?" + +The priest's demand was significant. The smiles of these men had +raised a doubt in his mind. + +"Sure." + +"Then--the position's bad." + +Bill Brudenell spoke for the first time. + +"The post and Mission's safe--anyway. Murray'll see to that." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FATHER JOSE PROBES + +It was a startled community that awoke next morning at Fort Mowbray. +The news was abroad at the earliest hour, and it reached Jessie Mowbray +in the kitchen, as she made her appearance to superintend the +preparation of breakfast. The Indian wench told her, with picturesque +embellishments, such as are reserved for the native tongue. Jessie +listened to the story of the descent of the Bell River Indians to the +region of the Fort with feelings no less disturbed than those of the +colored woman. They were no longer mistress and servant. They were +just two women confronting a common danger. + +But the news of the arrival of John Kars, wounded, swiftly overwhelmed +all other considerations in Jessie's mind. Breakfast was left in the +hands of the squaw while the girl hastened to her mother's room. + +Ailsa Mowbray listened to the girl's story with no outward signs of +fear. She had passed through the worst fires that could assail her a +year ago. Nothing the warlike Indians could threaten now could +reproduce the terror of that time. + +The story of it came in a rush. But it was not until Jessie told of +John Kars, and his wounded condition, that the real emotions of the +moment were revealed. She implored her mother to permit her to go at +once and minister to him, to learn the truth about his condition, to +hear, first hand, of the catastrophe that had happened. Nor did she +passively yield to her mother's kindly admonishment. + +"Why, child," she said, in her steady smiling way, "this country's +surely got right into your veins. You're like an unbroken colt. +You're as wild as any of those kiddies you figger to teach over at the +Mission. It's not for a child of mine to wait around on any man +living. Not even John Kars. Guess he's got Dr. Bill and Father José, +anyway. Maybe they'll get along over later." + +The girl flushed scarlet. + +"Oh, mother," she cried in distress, "don't--just don't think that way +of me. I--love him, and wouldn't help it if I could. But he's sick. +Maybe he's sick to death. Men--men can't fix sick folk. They +can't--sure." + +The mother looked into the girl's eyes with gentle tolerance, and a +certain amusement. + +"Not even Dr. Bill, who's had sick folk on his hands most all his +life?" she demanded. "Not even José, who's nursed half the kiddies at +the Mission one time or another?" She shook her head. "Besides, you +only know the things Susan's handed you out of her fool head. And when +Susan talks, truth isn't a circumstance. I wouldn't say but what John +Kars hasn't got shot up at all--till I see him." + +For all her easy manner she was troubled. And when Jessie had taken +herself back to the kitchen the ominous lines, which had gathered in +her face since her husband's murder, deepened. Distress looked out of +the eyes which gazed back at her out of her mirror as she stood before +it dressing her hair in the simple fashion of her life. + +Bell River! She had learned to hate and fear its very name. Her whole +destiny, the destiny of all belonging to her seemed to be bound up in +that fateful secret which had been her husband's, and to which she had +been only partially admitted. Somehow she felt that the day must come +when she would have to assert her position to Murray, and once and for +all break from under the evil spell of Bell River, which seemed to hang +over her life. + +But the shadow of it all lifted when later in the day John Kars and Dr. +Bill presented themselves. Kars' wound was almost completely healed, +and Jessie's delight knew no bounds. The mother reflected her +daughter's happiness, and she found herself able to listen to the story +of the adventures of these men without anything of the unease which had +at first assailed her. + +Their story was substantially that which had been told to Murray, and +it was told with a matter-of-fact indifference, and made light of, in +the strong tones of John Kars, on whom danger seemed to have so little +effect. As Mrs. Mowbray listened she realized something of the +strength of this man. The purpose in him. The absolute reliance with +which he dealt with events as they confronted him. And so her thoughts +passed on to the girl who loved him, and she wondered, and more than +ever saw the hopelessness of Murray's aspirations. + +The men took their departure, and, at Kars' invitation, Jessie went +with them to inspect their outfit. The mother was left gazing after +them from the open doorway. For all the aging since her husband's +death, she was still a handsome woman in her simple morning gown of a +bygone fashion. + +She watched the three as they moved away in the direction of the +woodland avenue, which, years ago, she had helped to clear. Her eyes +and thoughts were on the man, and the girl at his side. Bill had far +less place in them. + +She was thinking, and wondering, and hoping, as, perhaps, only a mother +can hope. And so engrossed was she that she did not observe the +approach of Father José, who came from the Indian camp amongst the +straight-limbed pine woods. It was only when the little man spoke that +she bestirred herself. + +"A swell pair, ma'am," he said, pausing beside the doorway, his keen +face smiling as his eyes followed the rapid gait of the girl striving +to keep pace with her companion's long strides. + +"You mean the men?" + +There was no self-consciousness in Ailsa Mowbray. The priest shook his +head. + +"Jessie and Kars." + +The woman's steady eyes regarded the priest for a moment. + +"I--wonder what you're--guessing." + +The priest's smile deepened. + +"That you'd sooner it was he than--Murray McTavish." + +The woman watched the departing figures as they passed out of view, +vanishing behind the cutting where the trees stopped short. + +"Is it to be--either of them?" + +"Sure." The man's reply came definitely. "But Murray hasn't a chance. +She'll marry Kars, or no one around this Mission." + +The woman sighed. + +"I promised Murray to--that his cause shouldn't suffer at my hands. +Murray's a straight man. His interests are ours. Maybe--it would be a +good thing." + +"Then he asked you?" + +The little priest's question came on the instant. And the glance +accompanying it was anxious. + +"Yes." + +For some moments no word passed between them. The woman was looking +back with regret at the time when Murray had appealed to her. Father +José was searching his heart to fortify his purpose. + +Finally he shook his white head. + +"Ma'am," he said seriously, "it's not good for older folks to seek to +fix these things for the young people who belong to them. Not even +mothers." Then his manner changed, and a sly, upward, smiling glance +was turned upon the woman's face above him. "I haven't a thing against +Murray. Nor have you. But I'd hate to see him marry Jessie. So would +you. I--I wonder why." + +The mother's reply came at once. It came with that curious brusqueness +which so many women use when forced to a reluctant admission. + +"That's so," she said. "I should hate it, too. I didn't want to say +it. I didn't want to admit it--even to myself. You've made me do +both, and--you've no right to. Murray was Allan's trusted friend and +partner. He's been our friend--my friend--right along. Why should I +hate the thought of him for Jessie? Can you tell me?" She shook her +head impatiently. "How could you? I couldn't tell myself." + +The shadow had deepened in Ailsa Mowbray's eyes. She knew she was +unjust. She knew she was going back on her given word. She despised +the thought. It was treachery. Yet she knew that both had become +definite in her mind from the moment when Jessie had involuntarily +confided her secret to her. + +Father José shook his head. + +"No. I can't tell you those things, ma'am," he said. "But I'm glad of +them. Very glad." + +He drew a deep breath as his gaze, abstracted, far off, was turned in +the direction where his Mission stood in all its pristine, makeshift +simplicity. The mother turned on him sharply as his quiet reply +reached her. + +"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you glad?" + +Her eyes were searching his clean-cut profile. She knew she was +seeking this man's considered judgment. She knew she was seeking to +probe the feeling and thought which prompted his approval, because of +her faith in him. + +"Because Jessie's worth a--better man." + +"Better?" + +"Surely." + +For all his prompt reply Father José remained searching the confines of +the woodland clearing in his curiously abstracted fashion. + +"You see, ma'am," he went on presently, helping himself to a pinch of +snuff, and shutting the box with a sharp slam, "goodness is just a +matter of degree. That's goodness as we folk of the earth understand +it. We see results. We don't see the motive. It's motive that counts +in all goodness. The man who lives straight, who acts straight when +temptation offers, may be no better than--than the man who falls for +evil. I once knew a _saint_ who was hanged by the neck because he +murdered a man. He gave his life, and intended to give it, for a poor +weak fellow creature who was being tortured out of her senses by a man +who was no better than a hound of Hell. That man was made of the same +stuff as John Kars, if I know him. I can't see Murray McTavish acting +that way. Yet I could see him act like the other feller--if it suited +him. Murray's good. Sure he's good. But John Kars is--better." + +The mother sighed. + +"I feel that way, too." Then in a moment her eyes lit with a subtle +apprehension, as though the man's words had planted a poison in her +heart that was rapidly spreading through her veins. "But there's +nothing wrong with Murray? I mean like--like you said." + +The little priest's smile was good to see. + +"Not a thing, ma'am," he said earnestly. "Murray's gold, so far as we +see. It's only that we see just what he wants us to see. Kars is +gold, too, but--you can see clear through Kars. That's all." + +The woman's apprehensions were allayed. But she knew that, where +Jessie was concerned, the little Padre had only put into words those +unspoken, almost unrealized feelings which had been hers all along. + +She moved out of the doorway. + +"Alec's up at the Fort. Maybe he's fretting I'm not up there to help." +She smiled. "Say, the boy's changed since--since he's to get his +vacation. He hasn't a word against Murray--now. And I'm glad. So +glad." + +The Padre had turned to go. He paused. + +"I'd be gladder if it was John Kars he was making the trail with," he +said, in his direct fashion. Then he smiled. "And at this moment +maybe Murray's risking his life for us." + +"Yes." + +The mother sighed. The disloyalty of their feelings seemed deplorable, +and it was the priest who came to her rescue. + +"But it can't be. That's all." + +"No. It would affront Murray." + +Father José nodded. + +"Murray mustn't be affronted--with so much depending on him." + +"No." Ailsa Mowbray's eyes lit with a shadow of a smile as she went +on. "I feel like--like a plotter. It's terrible." + +For answer Father José nodded. He had no word to offer to dispel the +woman's unease, so he hurried away without further spoken word between +them. + +Ailsa Mowbray turned toward the path through the woods at the foot of +the hill. As she made her way up towards the Fort her thoughts were +painfully busy. What, she asked herself, again and again, was the +thing that lay at the back of the little priest's mind? What--what was +the curious, nebulous instinct that was busy at the back of her own? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A MAN AND A MAID + +It was the second day after the arrival of John Kars and his outfit. +The noon meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house had been shared by the visitors. +The river was busy with the life of the post, mother and son had +returned to the Fort to continue their long day's work, and the +woodland paths approaching it were alive with a procession of those who +had wares to trade. It was a busy scene. And one which gave no hint +of any fear of the marauders whom Murray had gone to deal with. + +Besides John Kars' outfit at the landing a number of canoes were moored +along the river bank under the shadow of the gracious, dipping willows, +which had survived years of the break up of the spring ice and the +accompanying freshet. Indians and half-breeds lounged and smoked, +squatting around regardless of the hours which had small enough meaning +for them at any time. Just now contentment reigned in their savage +hearts. Each hour of their lives contained only its own troubles. + +It was the most pleasant time of the northern year. The spring dangers +on the river were past. The chill nights had long since sealed up the +summer wounds in the great glacier. As yet the summer heat of the +earth still shed its beneficent influence on the temperature of the +air. And, greatest blessing of all, the flies and mosquitoes were +rapidly abating their attacks, and the gaps in their ranks were +increasing with every frosty night that passed. + +The fall tints in the woods were ablaze on every hand. The dark green +of the pine woods kept the character of the northland weird. The +vegetation of deciduous habit had assumed its clothing of russet and +brown, whilst the scarlet of the dying maple lit up the darkening +background with its splendid flare, so like the blaze of a setting sun. + +Only the northland man can really appreciate the last weeks before the +merciless northern winter shuts him in. The hope inspired by the +turbulent spring speaks to him but of the delight of the season to +come. Far too often do the summer storms weight down his spirit to +make the height of the open season his time of festival. Those are the +days of labor. Fierce labor, in preparation for the dark hours of +winter. The days of early fall are the days in which he can look on +labor accomplished, and forward, with confidence, to security under +stress, and even a certain comfort. + +Dr. Bill had been left at the landing with the canoes, and Peigan +Charley, and the pack Indians. The girl and the man were wandering +along the woodland bank, talking the talk of those whose years, for the +greater part, lay still before them, and finding joy in the simple fact +of the life which moved about them. No threat of the Indians which +Murray had gone to encounter on their behalf could cast a shadow over +their mood. They were full to the brim of strong young life, when the +world is gold tinted, a reflection of their own virile youth. + +They had come to a broad ditch which contained in its depths the narrow +trickle of a miniature cascade, pouring down from some spring on the +hillside, whereon the old Fort stood. It was absurdly wide for the +trifling watercourse it now disgorged upon the river. But then, in +spring the whole character of it was changed. In spring it was a +rushing torrent, fed by the melting snows, and tearing out its banks in +a wild, rebellious effort against all restraint. + +Just now its marshy bed was beyond Jessie's powers to negotiate. They +stood looking across it at the inviting shades of an avenue of heavy +red willows, with its winding alley of tawny grass fringing the stately +pine woods, whose depths suggested the chastened aisles of some +mediaeval cathedral. + +To the disappointed girl all further progress in that direction seemed +hopeless, and Kars stood watching the play of her feelings in the +expression of the mobile features he had learned to dream about on the +long trail. His steady eyes were smiling happily. Even the +roughnesses of his rugged face seemed to have softened under the +influence of his new feelings. His heavy, thrusting jaw had lost +something of the grim setting it wore upon the trail. His brows had +lost their hard depression, and the smile in his eyes lit up the whole +of his face with a transparent frankness and delight. Just now he was +a perfect illustration of the man Father José beheld in him. + +He pointed across the waterway. + +"Kind of seems a pity," he said, with a tantalizing suggestion in his +smiling eyes. "Git a peek under those shady willows. The grass, too. +We don't get a heap of grass north of 'sixty.' Then the sun's getting +in amongst those branches. An' we need to turn right around back. +Seems a pity." + +The girl withdrew her gaze from the scene. Her eyes smiled up into +his. They were so softly gray. So full of trusting delight. + +"What can we do?" she asked, a woman looking for guidance from the one +man. + +"Do?" + +Kars laughed. He flung out a hand. He was not thinking of what he +purposed. The magic of Jessie's personality held him. Her tall +gracious figure. Its exquisite modeling. The full rounded shoulders, +their contours unconcealed by the light jacket she was wearing. Her +neck, soft with the gentle fulness of youth. The masses of ruddy brown +hair coiled on her bare head without any of the artificiality of the +women he encountered in Leaping Horse. The delicate complexion of her +oval cheeks, untouched by the fierce climate in which she lived. To +him she had become a perfect picture of womanhood. + +The girl laid her small hand in his with all the confidence of a child. +The warm pressure, as his fingers closed over it, thrilled her. +Without a word of protest she submitted to his lead. They clambered +down to the water's edge. + +In a moment she was lifted off her feet. She felt herself borne high +above the little gurgling cascade. Then she became aware of the +splashing feet under her. Then of a sinking sensation, as the man +waded almost knee-deep in mud. There were moments of alarmed suspense. +Then she found herself standing on the opposite bank, with the man +dripping at her side. + +Of the two courses open to her she chose the better. + +She laughed happily. Perhaps the choice was forced on her, for John +Kars' eyes were so full of laughter that the infection became +overwhelming. + +"You--you should have told me," she exclaimed censoriously. + +But the man shook his head. + +"Guess you'd have--refused." + +"I certainly should." + +But the girl's eyes denied her words. + +"Then we'd have gone around back, and you'd have been disappointed. I +couldn't stand for your being disappointed. Say----" The man paused. +His eyes were searching the sunlit avenue ahead, where the drooping +willow branches hung like floral stalactites in a cavern of ripe +foliage. "It's queer how folks'll cut out the things they're yearning +for because other folks are yearning to hand 'em on to them." + +"No girl likes to be picked up, and--and thrown around like some ball +game, because a man's got the muscles of a giant," Jessie declared with +spirit. + +"No. It's kind of making out he's superior to her, when he isn't. +Say, you don't figger I meant that way?" + +There was anxiety in the final question for all the accompanying smile. + +In a moment Jessie was all regret. + +"I didn't have time to think," she said, "and anyway I wouldn't have +figgered that way. And--and I'd hate a man who couldn't do things when +it was up to him. You'd stand no sort of chance on the northern trail +if you couldn't do things. You'd have been feeding the coyotes years +back, else." + +"Yes, and I'd hate to be feeding the coyotes on any trail." + +They were moving down the winding woodland alley. They brushed their +way through the delicate overhanging foliage. The dank scent of the +place was seductive. It was intoxicating with an atmosphere such as +lovers are powerless to resist. The murmur of the river came to them +on the one hand, and the silence of the pine woods, on the other, lent +a slumberous atmosphere to the whole place. + +Jessie laughed. To her the thought seemed ridiculous. + +"If the stories are true I guess it would be a mighty brave coyote +would come near you--dead," she said. Then of a sudden the happy light +died out of her eyes. "But--but--you nearly did--pass over. The Bell +River neches nearly had your scalp." + +It was the man's turn to laugh. He shook his head, + +"Don't worry a thing that way," he said. + +But the girl's smile did not so readily return. She eyed the ominous +bandage which was still about his neck, and there was plain anxiety in +her pretty eyes. + +"How was it?" she demanded. "A--a chance shot?" + +"A chance shot." + +The man's reply came with a brevity that left Jessie wondering. It +left her feeling that he had no desire to talk of his injury. And so +it left her silent. + +They wandered on, and finally it was Kars who broke the silence. + +"Say, I guess you feel I ought to hand you the story of it," he said. +"I don't mean you're asking out of curiosity. But we folks of the +north feel we need to hold up no secrets which could help others to +steer a safe course in a land of danger. But this thing don't need +talking about--yet. I got this getting too near around Bell River. +Well, I'm going to get nearer still." He smiled. "Guess I've been hit +on one cheek, and I'm going to turn 'em the other. It'll be a dandy +play seeing 'em try to hit that." + +"You're--you're going to Bell River--deliberately?" + +The girl's tone was full of real alarm. + +"Sure. Next year." + +"But--oh, it's mad--it's craziness." + +The terror of Bell River was deep in Jessie's heart. Hers was the +terror of the helpless who have heard in the far distance but seen the +results. Kars understood. He laughed easily. + +"Sure it's--crazy. But," his smiling eyes were gazing down into the +anxious depths the girl had turned up to him, "every feller who makes +the northern trail needs to be crazy some way. Guess I'm no saner than +the others. It's a craziness that sets me chasing down Nature's +secrets till I locate 'em right. Sometimes they aren't just Nature's +secrets. Anyway it don't figger a heap. Just now I'm curious to know +why some feller, who hadn't a thing to do with Nature beyond his shape, +fancied handing it me plumb in the neck. Maybe it'll take me all next +summer finding it out. But I'm going to find it out--sure." + +The easy confidence of the man robbed his intention of half its terror +for the girl. Her anxiety melted, and she smiled at his manner of +stating his case. + +"I wonder how it comes you men-folk so love the trail," she said. "I +don't suppose it's all for profit--anyway not with you. Is it +adventure? No. It's not all adventure either. It's just dead +hardship half the time. Yes--it's a sort of craziness. Say, how does +it feel to be crazy that way?" + +"Feel? That's some proposition." Kars' face lit with amusement as he +pondered the question. "Say, ever skip out of school at the Mission, +and make a camp in the woods?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"Ah, then that won't help us any," Kars demurred, his eyes dwelling on +the ruddy brown of the girl's chestnut hair. "What about a swell party +after three days of chores in the house, when a blizzard's blowing?" + +"That doesn't seem like any craziness," the girl protested. + +"No, I guess not." + +Kars searched again for a fresh simile. + +"Say, how'd you feel if you'd never seen a flower, or green grass, or +woods, and rivers, and mountains?" he suddenly demanded. "How'd you +feel if you'd lived in a prison most all your life, and never felt your +lungs take in a big dose of God's pure air, or stretched the strong +elastic of the muscles your parents gave you? How'd you feel if you'd +read and read all about the wonderful things of Nature, and never seen +them, and then, all of a sudden, you found yourself out in a world full +of trees, and flowers, and mountains, and woods, and skitters, and +neches, and air--God's pure air, and with muscles so strong you could +take a ten foot jump, and all the wonderful things you'd read about +going on around you, such as fighting, murdering, and bugs and things, +and folks who figger they're every sort of fellers, and aren't, +and--and all that? Say, wouldn't you feel crazy? Wouldn't you feel +you wanted to take it all in your arms, and, and just love it to death?" + +"Maybe--for a while." + +The girl's eyes were smiling provocatively. She loved to hear him +talk. The strong rich tones of his voice in the quiet of the woodland +gave her a sense of possession of him. + +She went on. + +"After, I guess I'd be yearning for the big wood stove, and a rocker, +with elegant cushions, and the sort of food you can't cook over a +camp-fire." + +Kars shook his head. + +"Maybe you'd fancy feeling those things were behind you on the day your +joints began aching, and your breath gets as short as a locomotive on +an up grade. When the blood's running hot there's things on the trail +get right into it. Maybe it's because of the things they set into a +man when he first stubbed his toes kicking against this old earth; when +they told him he'd need to git busy fixing himself a stone club a size +bigger than the other feller's; and that if he didn't use it quicker, +and harder, he'd likely get his head dinged so his brain box wouldn't +work right and he wouldn't be able to rec'nize the coyotes when they +came along to pick his bones clean. You can't explain a thing of the +craziness in men's blood when they come up with the Nature they belong +to. It's the thing that sets lambs skipping foolish on legs that don't +ever look like getting sense. It's the same sets a kiddie dancing +along a sidewalk coming out of the schoolhouse, and falling into dumps +and getting its bow-tie mussed. It's the same sets a boy actin' +foolish when a gal's sorrel top turns his way, even when she's all legs +and sass. It's the same sets folks crazy to risk their lives on +hilltops that a chamois 'ud hate to inspect. Guess it's a sort o' +thanks offerin' to Providence it didn't see fit setting us crawling +around without feet or hands, same as slugs and things that worry +folks' cabbige patches. I allow I can't figger it else." + +"You needn't to," Jessie declared, with a happy laugh. "Guess I know +it all--now." Then her eyes sobered. "But I--I wish you'd cut Bell +River right out." + +"Just don't you worry a thing, little Jessie," Kars said, with prompt +earnestness. He had no wish to distress her. "Bell River can't hand +me anything I don't know. Anyway I'd need to thank it if it could. +And when I get back maybe you won't need to lie awake o' nights +guessing a coyote's howl is the whoop of a neche yearning for your +scalp. Hello!" + +Their wanderings had brought them to a break in the willows where the +broad flow of the river came into full view, and the overhang of +glacial ice thrust out on the top of the precipitous bank beyond. But +it was none of this that had elicited the man's ejaculation, or had +caused his abrupt halt, and sobered the smile in his keen eyes. + +It was a pair of canoes moored close in to the bank. Two powerful +canoes, which were larger and better built than those of trading +Indians. Then there were two neches squatting on the bank crouching +over a small fire smoking their red clay pipes in silent contemplation. + +Jessie recognized the neches at a glance. + +"Why, Murray must be back or----" + +Kars turned abruptly. + +"They're Murray's? Say----" He glanced up at the hill which stood +over them. A well-beaten path led up through the pine woods. + +Jessie understood the drift of his thought. + +"That's a short way to the Fort," she said. "I wonder why he landed +here. He doesn't generally." + +But the man had no speculation to offer. + +"We best get his news," he said indicating the path. + +The moments of Jessie's delight had been swallowed up in the +significance of Murray's return. She agreed eagerly. And her +eagerness displayed the nearness to her heart of the terror of the +marauding Indians. + +John Kars led the way up the woodland path. It was the same path over +which the two trading Indians had reached the Fort on the night of his +arrival from Bell River. As he went he pondered the reason of the +trader's avoidance of the usual landing. + +Jessie watched his vigorous movements and found difficulty in keeping +pace with him. She saw in his hurry the interest he had in the affairs +of Bell River. She read in him something like confirmation of her own +fears. So she labored on in his wake without protest. + +Later, when they broke from the cover of the woods, she drew abreast of +him. She was breathing hard, and Kars became aware of the pace at +which he had come. In a moment he was all contrition. + +"Say, little Jessie," he cried, in his kindly fashion, "I'm real +sorry." Then he smiled as he slackened his gait. "It's my fool legs; +they're worse than some tongues for getting away with me. We'll take +it easy." + +But the girl refused to become a hindrance, and urged him on. Her own +desire was no less than his. + +The frowning palisade of the old Fort was above them. It stood out +staunch against the sky, yet not without some suggestion of the +sinister. And for the first time in her years of association with it +Jessie became aware of the impression. + +The old blackened walls frowned down severely. They looked like the +prison walls enclosing ages of secret doings which were never permitted +the clear light of day. They suggested something of the picture +conjured by the many fantastic folk stories which she had read in +Father José's library. The ogres and giants. The decoy of beautiful +girls luring their lovers to destruction within the walls of some +dreadful monster's castle. + +They passed in through the great gateway, with its massive doors flung +wide to the trade of the river. And they sought Murray's office. + +There they found Mrs. Mowbray and Alec. Murray, too, was at his desk. + +On their entrance they were greeted at once by the mother. Her eyes +were smiling and full of confidence. She looked into John Kars' face, +and he read her news even before she spoke. + +"The country's clear of them," she cried, and her relief and delight +rang in every tone. + +Jessie went at once to her side. But Kars turned to the squat figure +which filled its chair to overflowing. His steady eyes regarded the +smiling features of the trader. + +"Did it come to a scrap?" he inquired easily. + +Murray shook his head. His dark eyes were no less direct than the +other's. + +"Guess there were too many in my outfit," he said with a shrug. "It +was a bunch of neches I'd have thought your outfit could have--eaten. +A poor lot--sure." + +He finished up with a deliberate laugh, and his intention was obvious. + +Kars understood, and did not display the least resentment. + +"I'm glad," he said seriously. "Real glad." Then he added: "I didn't +guess you'd have a heap of trouble." + +He turned to the women. And his attitude left the trader's purpose +mean and small. + +"Murray's got us all beaten anyhow," he said easily. "We think we're +wise. We think we know it all. But we don't. Anyway I'm glad the +danger's fixed. I guess it'll leave me free to quit for the outside +right away." + +Then he turned to Murray, and their eyes met, and held, and only the +two men knew, and understood, the challenge which lay behind. + +"Guess I can make Leaping Horse before the rivers freeze. But I'm +getting back here with the thaw. I allow next year I'm taking no sort +of chance. This hole in my neck," he went on, indicating the bandage +about his throat, "has taught me a lot I didn't know before. The +outfit I get around with next year will be big enough to eat up any +proposition Bell River can hand me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE + +Leaping Horse was a beacon which reflected its ruddy light upon the +night sky, a sign, a lure to the yearning hearts at distant points, +toiling for the wage with which to pay for sharing in its wild +excesses. It was the Gorgon of the northland, alluring, destructive, +irresistible. It was a temple dedicated to the worship of the Gods of +the Wilderness. Light, luxury and vice. Such was the summing up of +Dr. Bill, and the few who paused in the mad riot for a moment's sober +thought. Furthermore Dr. Bill's estimate of the blatant gold city was +by no means a self-righteous belief. He had known the place from its +birth. He had treated its every ailment at the height of its burning +youth. Now, in its maturity, it fell to him to learn much of the inner +secrets of its accruing mental disease. He hated it and loved it, +almost one and the same emotion. He cried aloud its shame to listening +ears. In secret he wept over its iniquities, with all the pity of a +warm-hearted man gazing upon a wanton. + +But Leaping Horse was indifferent. It spread its shabby tendrils over +hundreds of acres of territory, feeding its wanton heart upon the +squalor which gathered about its fringe as well as upon the substance +of those upon whom it had showered its fortune. + +At night its one main street radiated a light and life such as could be +found in no city in the world. The wide, unpaved thoroughfare, with +its shabby sidewalks buried to a depth of many feet of snow in winter, +and mud in the early open season, gave no indication of the tide of +wealth which flowed in this main artery. Only at night, when a +merciful dark strove to conceal, did the glittering tide light up. +Then indeed the hideous blatancy of the city's life flared out in all +its painful vulgarity. + +In the heart of the Main Street the Elysian Fields Hotel, and theatre, +and dance hall stood out a glittering star of the first magnitude, +dimming the lesser constellations with which it was surrounded. A +hundred arc lamps flung out their challenge to all roysterers and +vice-seeking souls. Thousands of small globular lights, like ropes of +luminous pearls, outlined its angles, its windows, its cornices, its +copings. All its white and gold shoddy was rendered almost magnificent +in the night. Only in the light of day was its true worth made +apparent. But who, in Leaping Horse, wanted the day? No one. Leaping +Horse was the northern Mecca of the night pleasure seeker. + +The buildings adjacent basked in its radiance. Their own eyes were +almost blinded. Their mixed forms were painfully revealed. Frame +hutches, split log cabins rubbed shoulders with buildings of steel +frame and stone fronts. Thousand dollar apartments gazed disdainfully +down upon hovels scarcely fit to shelter swine. Their noses were +proudly lifted high above the fetid atmosphere which rose from the +offal-laden causeway below. They had no heed for that breeding ground +of the germs of every disease known to the human body. + +Then the roystering throng. The Elysian Fields. It was the beach +about which the tide ebbed and flowed. It was a rough rock-bound beach +upon which the waters of life beat themselves into a fury of excess. +Its lights were the beacons of the wreckers set up for the destruction +of the human soul. + +Chief amongst the wreckers was Pap Shaunbaum, a Hebrew of doubtful +nationality, and without scruple. He prided himself that he was a +caterer for the needs of the people. His thesis was that the northland +battle needed alleviation in the narrow lap of luxury where vice ruled +supreme. He had spent his life in searching the best means of personal +profit out of the broad field of human weakness, and discovered the +Elysian Fields. + +He had labored with care and infinite thought. He had built on a +credit from the vast bank of experience, and owned in the Elysian +Fields the finest machine in the world for wrecking the soul and pocket +of the human race. + +Every attraction lay to hand. The dance hall was aglitter, the floor +perfect, and the stage equipped to foster all that appealed to the +senses. The hotel with its splendid accommodation, its bars, its +gaming rooms, its dining hall, its supper rooms, its bustle of +elaborate service. There was nothing forgotten that ingenuity could +devise to loosen the bank rolls of its clientele, and direct the flow +of gold into the proprietor's coffers--not even women. As Dr. Bill +declared in one of his infrequent outbursts of passionate protest: "The +place is one darnation public brothel; a scandal to the northland, a +shame on humanity." + +It was here, gazing down on the crowded dance hall, from one of the +curtained boxes adjacent to the stage, on which a vaudeville programme +was being performed, that two men sat screened from the chance glance +of the throng below them. + +A table stood between them, and an uncorked bottle of wine and two +glasses were placed to their hand. But the wine stood untouched, and +was rapidly becoming flat. It had been ordered as a custom of the +place. But neither had the least desire for its artificial stimulation. + +They had been talking in a desultory fashion. Talking in the pleasant +intimate fashion of men who know each other through and through. Of +men who look upon life with a vision adjusted to a single focus. + +They were watching the comings and goings of familiar faces in the +glittering overdressed throng below. The women, splendid creatures in +gowns whose cost ran into hundreds of dollars, and bejeweled almost at +any price. Beautiful faces, many of them already displaying the +ravages of a life that moved at the swiftest gait. Others again +bloated and aging long before the years asserted their claims, and +still others, fresh with all the beauty of extreme youth and a life +only at the beginning of the downward course. + +The men, too, were no less interesting to the student of psychology. +Here was every type from the illiterate human mechanism whose muscles +dominated his whole process of life, to the cultured son of +civilization who had never known before the meaning of life beyond the +portals of the temples of refinement. Here they were all on the same +highway of pleasure. Here they were all full to the brim of a +wonderful joy of life. Care was for the daylight, when the secrets of +their bank roll would be revealed, and the draft on the exchequer of +health would have to be met. + +There was displayed no element of the soil from which these people drew +their wealth, except for the talk. They had long since risen from the +moleskin and top-boot stage in Leaping Horse. The Elysian Fields +demanded outward signs of respectability in the habiliments of its +customers, and the garish display of the women was there to enforce it. +Broadcloth alone was the mode, and conformity with this rule drew forth +many delights for the observing eye. + +But the people thus disguised remained the same. Every type was +gathered, from the sound, reasonable accumulator of wealth to the +"hold-up," the gambler, the fugitive from the law. It was said of +Leaping Horse that it only required the "dust" to buy any crime known +to the penal code. And here, here at the Elysian Fields, on any night +in the week, could be found the man or woman to perpetrate it at a +moment's notice. + +Dr. Bill laughed without mirth. + +"Gee, it leaves the Bell River outfit saints beside them," he said. + +Kars' contemplative eyes were following the movements of a handsome +blond woman with red-gold hair, which was aglitter with a half circle +band of jewels supporting an aigrette, which must have cost five +thousand dollars. She was obviously young, extremely young. To his +mind she could not have been more than twenty--if that. Her eyes were +deep blue, with unusually large pupils. Her lips were ripe with a +freshness which owed nothing to any salve. Her nose was almost +patrician, and her cheeks were tinted with the bloom of exquisite +fruit. Her gown was extremely décolleté, revealing shoulders and arms +of perfect ivory beauty. She was dancing a waltz with a man in +elaborate evening dress, who had discarded orthodox sobriety for crude +embellishments. The string band in the orchestra was playing with +seductive skill. + +"Who's that dame with the guy who guesses he's a parakeet?" he +demanded, without reply to the other's statement. + +"You mean the feller with the sky blue lapels to his swallow-tails?" + +"Sure. That's the guy." + +"Maude. Chesapeake Maude. She's Pap Shaunbaum's piece. Quite a girl. +She's only been along since we quit here last spring. Pap's crazy on +her. Folks say he dopes out thousands a week on her. He brought her +from the East on a specially chartered vessel he had fitted up to suit +her fancy. They figger he's raised his pool here by fifty per cent +since she came." + +"She plays the old game for him right here?" + +"Sure." + +Both men were absorbed in the girl's perfect grace of movement, as she +and her partner glided in and out through the dancing crowd. Her +attraction was immense even to these men, who were only onlookers of +the Leaping Horse riot. + +Bill touched his friend's arm. He indicated the bar at the far end of +the hall. + +"There's Pap. He's watching her. Gee, he's watching her." + +A slim iron gray man, with a dark, keen face was standing beside one of +the pillars which supported the gallery above. He was dressed in +evening clothes of perfect cut, which displayed a clean-cut figure. He +was a handsome man of perhaps forty, without a sign of the dissipation +about his dark face that was to be seen in dozens of younger men about +him. As Dr. Bill once said of him, "One of hell's gentle-folk." + +A better description of him could not have been found. Under a +well-nigh perfect exterior he concealed a depth of infamy beyond +description. A confidential police report to the authorities in the +East once contained this paragraph: + +"Pap Shaunbaum has set up a big hotel in Leaping Horse. It will be +necessary to keep a 'special' at work watching him. We should like +authority to develop this further from time to time. His record both +here, and confidential from the States, leaves him more than +undesirable. Half the toughs in Leaping Horse are in his pay." + + +That was written five years before. Since then the "special" had been +developed till a large staff was employed in the observation of the +Elysian Fields. And still under all this espionage "Pap," as he was +familiarly dubbed, moved about without any apparent concern, carrying +on his underground schemes with every outward aspect of inoffensive +honesty. All Leaping Horse knew him as a crook, but accepted him as he +posed. He was on intimate terms with all the gold magnates, and never +failed to keep on good terms with the struggling element of the +community. But he was a "gunman." He had been a "gunman" all his +life, and made small secret of it. The only change in him now was that +his gun was loaded with a different charge. + +"You figger he's dopey on her?" + +"Crazy. God help the feller that monkeys around that hen roost." + +"Yet he uses her for this play?" + +"With reserve." + +"How?" + +Dr. Bill again gave a short hard laugh. + +"You won't see her around with folk, except on that floor. Say, get a +peek at the boxes across the way, with the curtains half drawn. +They're all--occupied. You won't see Maude in those boxes, unless it's +with Pap. She's down on that floor because she loves dancing, and for +Pap's business. She's there for loot, sure, and she gets it plenty. +She's there with her dandy smile to see the rest of the women get busy. +Playing that feller's dirty game for all it's worth. And she's just a +gal full to the brim of life. He's bought her body and soul, and I +guess it's just for folks like us to sit around and watch for what's +coming. If I've got horse sense there's coming a big shriek one day, +and you'll see Pap clear through to his soul--if he's got one. He's +fallen for that dame bad. But I guess he's done the falling. I don't +guess any feller can gamble on a woman till she's in love, then I'd say +the gamble is she'll act foolish." + +Kars had no comment to offer. He was no longer watching Maude. The +dancing had ceased, and the floor had cleared. The orchestra had +already commenced the prelude to a vaudeville turn, and the drop +curtain had revealed the stage. + +His interest was centred on Pap Shaunbaum. The man was moving about +amongst his customers, exchanging a word here and there, his dark, +saturnine face smiling his carefully amiable business smile. To the +elemental man of the trail there was something very fascinating in the +way this one brain was pitting itself to plunder through the senses of +the rest of his world. + +But Dr. Bill knew it all with an intimacy that robbed it of any charm. +He had only repulsion, but repulsion that failed to deny a certain +attraction. His hot words broke through the noisy strumming of +vaudeville accompaniment. + +"For God's sake," he said, "why do we stop around this sink? You! Why +do you? The long trail? And at the end of it you got to come back to +this--every trip. I hate the place, I loathe it like a hobo hates +water. But I'm bound to it. It's up to me to help mend the poor darn +fools who haven't sense but to squander the good life Providence handed +them. But you--you with your great pile, Pap, here, would love to dip +his claws into, there's no call for you acting like some gold-crazed +lunatic. Get out, man. Get right out and breathe the wholesome air +Providence meant for you. Oh, I guess you'll say it's all on the long +trail in the northland. There isn't a thing to keep you here." + +"Isn't there?" + +Kars leaned back in his chair. He stretched his great arms above his +head, and clasped his hands behind his muscular neck. + +"There's so much to keep me here that life's not long enough to see it +through. Time was, Bill, when I guessed it was the north that had got +into my bones. But I didn't know. The long trail. The search. It +was gold--gold--gold. Same as it is with any of the other fools that +get around here. But I didn't just understand. That gold. No. I've +been searching, and the search for new ground has been one long dream +of life. But the gold I've been chasing wasn't the gold I thought it. +It wasn't the yellow stuff these folks here are ready to sell their +souls--and bodies--for. It was different. You guessed I had all the +gold I needed. But I hadn't, not of the gold I've been chasing. I +hadn't any of it. I--didn't even know its color when I saw it. I do +now. And it's the color I've seen looking out of a pair of +wonderful--wonderful gray eyes. Say, I don't quit the northland till I +can take it all with me. All there is of that gold I've found on the +long trail." + +"Jessie?" + +"Sure." + +"Then why not take her?" + +The vaudeville turn was in full swing and the folks below were standing +around talking and drinking, and gazing with only partial interest at +the feats of a woman acrobatic dancer. Bill was looking at her, too. +But his thoughts were on the girl at Fort Mowbray and this man who was +his friend. + +"Why not take her?" he urged. "Take her away from this storm-haunted +land, and set her on the golden throne you'd set up for her, where +there's warmth and beauty. Where there's no other care for her than to +yield you the wifely companionship you're yearning for. I guess she's +the one gal can hand you those things. If you don't do it, and do it +quick, you'll find the fruit in the pouch of another. Say, the harvest +comes along in its season, and it's got to be reaped. If the right +feller don't get busy--well, I guess some other feller will. There's +not a thing waits around in this world." + +The braying of the band deadened the sound of laughter, and the rattle +of glasses, and the talk going on below. Kars was still gazing down +upon the throng of pleasure seekers, basking in the brilliant glare of +light which searched the pallid and unhealthy, and enhanced the beauty +where artificiality concealed the real. His mood was intense. His +thoughts were hundreds of miles away. Quite suddenly he turned his +strong face to his friend. There was a deep light in his steady eyes, +and a grim setting to his lips. + +"I'm going to collect that harvest," he said, with a deliberate +emphasis. "If you don't know it you should. But I'm collecting it my +way. I'm going to marry Jessie, if your old friend Prov don't butt in. +But I'm going to cut the ground under the feet of the other feller my +own way, first. I've got to do that. I've a notion. It's come to me +slow. Not the way notions come to you, Bill. I'm different. I can +act like lightning when it's up to me, but I can't see into a brick +wall half as far as you--nor so quick. I've bin looking into a brick +wall ever since we hit Bell River, and I've seen quite a piece into it. +I'm not going to hand you what I've seen--yet. I've got to see more. +I won't see the real till I make Bell River again. If what I guess I'm +going to see is right, after that I'm going to marry Jessie right away, +and she, and her _mother_, and me--well, we're going to quit the north. +There won't be a long trail in this country can drag me an inch from +the terminals of civilization after that." + +A deep satisfaction shone in the doctor's smiling eyes as he gazed at +the serious face of his friend. But there was question, too. + +"You've laid a plain case but I don't see the whole drift," he said. +"Still you've fixed to marry Jessie, and quit this darnation country. +For me it goes at that--till you fancy opening out. But you're still +bent on the Bell River play. I've got all you said to me on the trail +down. You figger those folks are to be robbed by--some one. Do you +need to wait for that? Why not marry that gal and get right out taking +her folks with her? Let all the pirates do as they darn please with +Bell River. I don't get any other view of this thing right." + +"No. But I do." There was a curious, obstinate thrust to this big +man's jaw. "By heaven, Bill! The feller responsible for the murder of +my little gal's father, a father she just loved to death, don't git +away with his play if I know it. The feller that hands her an hour's +suffering needs to answer to me for it, and I'm ready to hand over my +life in seeing he gets his physic. There's no one going to get away +with the boodle Allan gave his life for--not if I can hold him up. +That's just as fixed in my mind as I'm going to marry Jessie. Get that +good. And I hold you to your word on the trail. You're with me in it. +I've got things fixed, and I've set 'em working. I'm quitting for +Seattle in the morning. You'll just sit around lying low, and doping +out your physic to every blamed sinner who needs it. Then, with the +spring, you'll stand by ready to quit for the last long trail with me. +Maybe, come that time, I'll hand you a big talk of all the fool things +I've got in my head. How?" + +The other drew a deep sigh. But he nodded. + +"Sure. If you're set that way--why, count me in." + +"The man that can 'ante' blind maybe is a fool. But he's good grit +anyway. Thanks, Bill. I--what's doing?" + +The sharpness of Kars' inquiry was the result of a startled movement in +his companion. Dr. Bill was leaning forward. But he was leaning so +that he was screened by the heavy curtain of the box. He was craning. +In his eyes was a profound look of wonder, almost of incredulity. + +The vaudeville act had come to an end with a brazen flourish from the +orchestra, and a waltz had been started on the instant. The eyes of +the man were staring down at the floor below, where, already, several +couples were gliding over its polished surface. + +"Look," he said, in a suppressed tone of voice. "Keep back so he don't +see you. Get a look at Chesapeake Maude." + +Kars searched the room for the beautiful red-gold head. He looked +amongst the crowd. Then his gaze came to the few dancers, their +numbers already augmenting. The flash of jewels caught his gaze. The +wonderful smiling face with its halo of red-gold. An exclamation broke +from him. + +"Alec Mowbray!" + +But it was left to Bill to find expression for the realization that was +borne in on them both. + +"And he's half soused. The crazy kid!" + +Maude seemed to float over the gleaming floor. Alec Mowbray, for all +the signs of drink he displayed, was no mean partner. His handsome +face, head and shoulders above the tall woman he was dancing with, +gazed out over the sea of dancers in all the freshness of his youthful +joy, and triumph. He danced well, something he had contrived to learn +in the joyless country from which he hailed. But there was no +reflection of his joy in the faces of the two men gazing down from the +shelter of the curtained box. There were only concern and a grievous +regret. + +Bill rose with a sigh. + +"I quit," he said. + +Kars rose, too. + +"Yes." + +The two men stood for a moment before passing out of the box. + +"It looks like that shriek's coming," Bill said. "God help that poor +darn fool if Pap and Maude get a hold on him." + +"He came down with Murray," Kars said pondering. + +"Yes. He ought to have come around with his mam." + +Kars nodded. + +"Get a hold on him, Bill, when I'm gone. For God's sake get a hold on +him. It's up to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON THE NORTHERN SEAS + +The mists hung drearily on snow-crowned, distant hilltops. The deadly +gray of the sky suggested laden clouds bearing every threat known to +the elements. They were traveling fast, treading each other's heels, +and overwhelming each other till the gloom banked deeper and deeper. +It was the mockery of an early spring day. It had all the appearance +of the worst depths of winter, except that the intense cold had given +place to a fierce wind of higher temperature. + +The seas were running high, and the laden vessel labored heavily as it +passed the sharp teeth of the jaws of the wide sound which marked the +approach to the northern land. + +There was no sheltering bar here. The only obstruction to the fierce +onslaught of the North Pacific waters was the almost submerged legion +of cruel rocks which confined the deep water channel. It was a deadly +approach which took years of a ship's captain's life to learn. And +when he had learned it, so far as it was humanly possible, it quickly +taught him how little he knew. Not a season passed but some +unfortunate found for himself a new, uncharted rock. + +The land rose up to overwhelming heights on either side, and these vast +barriers narrowed the wind channel till the force of the gale was +trebled. It swept in from the broad ocean with a roar and a boom, +bearing the steamer along, floundering through the racing waters, with +a crushing following sea. + +There were twelve hours of this yet ahead of him, and John Dunne paced +his bridge with every faculty alert. He watched the skies. He watched +the breaking waters. He watched the shores on either side of him, as +he might watch the movements of a remorseless adversary about to attack +him. He had navigated this channel for upwards of fifteen years, and +understood to-day how small was his understanding of its virtues, and +how real and complete his fears of its vices. But it was his work to +face it at all times and all seasons, and he accepted the +responsibility with a cheerful optimism and an equal skill. + +Once or twice he howled a confidence to his chief officer, who occupied +the bridge with him. There were moments when his lips were at the +speaking tubes, and his hand on the telegraph. There were moments when +he stood with his arms folded over the breast of his thick pea-jacket, +and his half-closed eyes searched the barren shores while he leaned +against the shaking rail. + +He had been on the bridge the whole night, and still his bodily vigor +seemed quite unimpaired. His stocky body concealed a power of +endurance which his life had hardened him to. He rarely talked of the +dangers through which he had journeyed on the northern seas. He feared +them too well to desire to recall them. He was wont to say he lived +only in the present. To look ahead would rob him of his nerve. To +gaze back over the manifold emergencies through which he had passed +would only undermine his will. The benefit of his philosophy was +displayed in his habitual success. In consequence he was the commodore +of his company's fleet. + +He passed down from his bridge at last. And it was almost with +reluctance. It was breakfast time, and he had been summoned already +three times by an impatient steward. At the door of his cabin he was +met by John Kars who was to be his guest at the meal. These men were +old friends, bound by the common ties of the northland life. They had +made so many journeys together over these turbulent waters. To Kars it +would have been unthinkable to travel under any other sea captain. + +"Still watching for those jaws to snap?" said Kars, as he passed into +the little room ahead of his host, and sniffed hungrily at the fragrant +odor of coffee. + +"Why, yes," he said. "Jaws that's always snapping generally need +watching, I guess. A feller needs the eyes of a spider to get to +windward of the things lying around Blackrock Sound. Say, I guess it +wouldn't come amiss to dump this patch into the devil's dugout fer fool +skippers, who lost their ships through 'souse,' to navigate around in. +It has you guessin' most of the time. And you're generally wrong, +anyway." + +The men sat down at the table, and the steward served the coffee. For +a few moments they were busy helping themselves to the grilled kidneys +and bacon. Presently the steward withdrew. + +"It's been a better trip than usual this time of year," Kars said. +"It's a pity running into this squall just now." + +The seaman raised a pair of twinkling eyes in his guest's direction. + +"It's mostly my experience. Providence generally figgers to hand you +things at--inconvenient times. This darn sound's tricky when there +ain't breeze enough to clear your smoke away. It's fierce when it's +blowing. Guess you'll be glad to see your outfit ashore." + +"Ye-es." + +"Up country again this year?" + +Kars laughed. + +"Sure." + +The seaman regarded him enviously. + +"Guess it must be great only having the weather to beat. A piece of +hard soil under your feet must be bully to work on. That ain't been +mine since I was fourteen. That's over forty years ago." + +"There's something to it--sure." Kars sipped his coffee. "But there's +other things," he added, as he set his cup down. + +The seaman smiled. + +"Wouldn't be Life if there weren't." + +"No." + +"You're shipping arms," John Dunne went on significantly. "Guns an' +things don't signify all smiles an' sunshine. No, I guess we sea folks +got our troubles. It's only they're diff'rent from other folks. You +ain't the only feller shipping arms. We got cases else. An' a big +outfit of cartridges. I was looking into the lading schedule +yesterday. Say, the Yukon ain't makin' war with Alaska?" + +The man's curiosity was evident, but he disguised it with a broad smile. + +Kars' steady eyes regarded him thoughtfully. Then he, too, smiled. + +"I don't reckon the Yukon's worrying to scrap. But folks inside--I +mean right inside beyond Leaping Horse where the p'lice are--need arms. +There's a lot of low type Indians running loose. They aren't to be +despised, except for their manners. Guess the stuff you speak of is +for one of the trading posts?" + +"Can't say. It's billed to a guy named Murray McTavish at Blackrock +Flat. There's a thousand rifles an' nigh two million rounds of +cartridges. Guess he must be carryin' on a war of his own with them +Injuns. Know the name?" + +Kars appeared to think profoundly. + +"Seems to me I know the name. Can't just place it for---- Say--I've +got it. He's the partner of the feller the neches murdered up at Fort +Mowbray, on the Snake River. Sure, that explains it. Oh, yes. The +folks up that way are up against it. The neches are pretty darn bad." +He laughed. "Guess he's out for a war of extermination with such an +outfit as that." + +"Seems like it." The skipper went on eating for some moments in +silence. His curiosity was satisfied. Nor did Kars attempt to break +the silence. He was thinking--thinking hard. + +"It beats me," Dunne went on presently, "you folk who don't need to +live north of 'sixty.' What is it that keeps you chasing around in a +cold that 'ud freeze the vitals of a tin statue?" + +Kars shook his head. + +"You can search me," he said, with a shrug. "Guess it sort of gets in +the blood, though. There's times when I cuss it like you cuss the +waters that hand you your life. Then there's times when I love it +like--like a pup loves offal. You can't figger it out any more than +you can figger out why the sun and moon act foolish chasing each other +around an earth that don't know better than to spend its time buzzing +around on a pivot that don't exist. You can't explain these things any +more than you can explain the reason why no two folks can think the +same about things, except it is their own way of thinking it's the +right way. Nor why it is you mostly get rain when you're needin' sun, +and wind when you're needin' calm, and anyway it's coming from the +wrong quarter. If you guess you're looking for gold, it's a thousand +dollars to a dime you find coal, or drown yourself in a 'gush' of oil. +If you're married, an' you're looking for a son, it's a sure gamble you +get a gal. Most everything in life's just about as crazy as they'll +allow outside a foolish house, and as for life itself, well, it's a +darn nuisance anyway, but one you're mighty glad keeps busy your way." + +At that moment, the speaking tube from the bridge emitted a sharp +whistle, and the skipper, with a broad smile on his weather-beaten +face, went to answer it. + + +The clatter of the winches ceased. The creaking of straining hawsers +lessened. The voices of men only continued their hoarse-throated +shoutings. The gangways had been secured in place, and while the crew +were feverishly opening the vessel's hatches the few passengers who had +made the journey under John Dunne's watchful care hustled down the +high-angled gangway to the quay, glad enough to set foot on the +slush-laden land. + +The days of the wild rush of gold-mad incompetents were long since +past. The human freight of John Dunne's vessel, with the exception of +John Kars, was commercial. They were mostly men whose whole work was +this new great trade with the north. + +Kars was one of the first to land, and he swiftly searched the faces of +the crowd of longshoremen. + +It was a desolate quay-side of a disreputable town. But though all +picturesqueness was given over to utility, there was a sense of +homeliness to the traveler after the stormy passage of the North +Pacific. Blackrock crouched under the frowning ramparts of hills which +barred the progress of the waters. It was dwarfed, and rendered even +more desolate, by the sterile snow-laden crags with which it was +crowded. But these first impressions were quickly lost in the life +that strove on every hand. In the familiar clang of the locomotive +bell, and the movement of railroad wagons which were engaged in haulage +for Leaping Horse. + +Kars' search ended in a smile of greeting, as a tall, lean American +detached himself from the crowd and came towards him. He greeted the +arrival with the easy casualness of the northlander. + +"Glad to see you, Chief," he said, shaking hands. "Stuff aboard? +Good," as the other nodded. "Guess the gang'll ship it right away jest +as soon as they haul it out o' the guts of the old tub. You goin' on +up with the mail? She's due to get busy in two hours, if she don't get +colic or some other fool trouble." + +Abe Dodds refused to respond to his friend and chief's smile of +greeting. He rarely shed smiles on anything or any one. He was a +mining engineer of unusual gifts, in a country where mining engineers +and flies vied with each other for preponderance. He was a man who +bristled with a steady energy which never seemed to tire, and he had +been in the service of John Kars from the very early days. + +Kars indicated the snub-nosed vessel he had just left. + +"The stuff's all there," he said. "Nearly fifty tons of it. You need +to hustle it up to Leaping Horse, and on to the camp right away. Guess +we break camp in two weeks." + +The man nodded. + +"Sure. That's all fixed. Anything else?" + +His final inquiry was his method of dismissing his employer. But Kars +did not respond. His keen eyes had been searching the crowd. Now they +came back to the plain face of Abe, whose jaws were working busily on +the wreck of the end of a cigar. He lowered his voice to a +confidential tone. + +"There's a big outfit of stuff aboard for Murray McTavish, of Fort +Mowbray. Has he an outfit here to haul it? Is he still around Leaping +Horse?" + +Abe's eyes widened. He was quite unconcerned at the change of tone. + +"Why, yes," he replied promptly. "Sure he's an outfit here. He's +shipping it up to Leaping Horse by the Yukon Transport--express. He +quit the city last November, an' come along down again a week ago. +Guess he's in the city right now. He's stopping around Adler's Hotel." + +Kars' eyes were on the "hauls" of the cargo boat which were already +busy. + +"You boys kept to instructions?" he demanded sharply. "No one's wise +to your camp?" + +"Not a thing." + +"There's not a word of me going around the city?" + +"Not a word." + +"The outfit's complete?" + +"Sure. To the last boy. You can break camp the day after this stuff's +hauled and we've packed it." + +"Good." Kars sighed as if in relief. "Well, I'll get on. Hustle all +you know. And, say, get a tally of McTavish's outfit. Get their time +schedule. I'll need it. So long." + +Kars followed his personal baggage which a quayside porter had taken on +to the grandiosely named mail train. + + +John Kars was standing at the curtained window of Dr. Bill's apartment +in the Hoffman Apartment House. His back was turned on the luxuriously +furnished room. For some time the silence had been broken only by the +level tones of the owner of the apartment who was lounging in the +depths of a big rocker adjacent to a table laden with surgical +instruments. He had been telling the detailed story of the +preparations made at the camp some ten miles distant from the city, and +the supervision of whose affairs Kars had left in his hands. As he +ceased speaking Kars turned from his contemplation of the tawdry white +and gold of the Elysian Fields which stood out in full view from the +window of the apartment. + +"Now tell me of that boy--Alec," he demanded. + +The directness of the challenge had its effect. Bill Brudenell stirred +uneasily in his chair. His shrewd eyes widened with a shade of +trouble. Nor did he answer readily. + +"Things are wrong?" Kars' steady eyes searched his friend's face. + +"Well--they're not--good." + +"Ah. Tell me." + +Kars moved from the window. It almost seemed that all that had passed +was incomparable in interest with his present subject. He seated +himself on the corner of the table which held the surgical instruments. + +"No. It's not good. It's--it's darned bad." Bill rose abruptly from +his chair and began to pace the room, his trim shoulders hunched as +though he were suddenly driven to a desire for aggression. "Look here, +John," he cried almost vehemently. "If you or I had had that boy set +in our charge, seeing what we saw that first night, and knowing what +I've heard since, could we have quit this lousy city for months and +left him to his fool play over at Pap's? Not on your life. But it's +what Murray's done. Gee, I could almost think he did it purposely." + +Kars pointed at the rocker. There was a curious light in his gray +eyes. It was a half smile. Also it possessed a subtle stirring of +fierceness. + +"Sit down, Bill," he said calmly. "But start right in from--the start." + +The man of healing obeyed mechanically, but he chafed at the restraint. +His usual ease had undergone a serious disturbance. There was nothing +calculated to upset him like the disregard of moral obligation. Crime +he understood, folly he accepted as something belonging to human +nature. But the moral "stunt," as he was wont to characterize it, hurt +him badly. Just now he was regarding Murray McTavish with no very +friendly eyes, and he deplored beyond words the doings of the boy who +was Jessie Mowbray's brother. + +"The start!" he exploded. "Where _can_ I start? If the start were as +I see it, it 'ud be to tell you that Murray's a callous skunk who don't +care a whoop for the obligations Allan's murder left on his fat +shoulders. But I guess that's not the start as you see it. That boy!" +He sprang from his seat again and Kars made no further attempt to +restrain him. "He's on the road to the devil faster than an express +locomotive could carry him. He's in the hands of 'Chesapeake' Maude, +who's got him by both feet and neck. And he's handing his bank roll +over to Pap, and his gang, with a shovel. He's half soused any old +time after eleven in the morning. And his back teeth are awash by +midnight 'most every day. You can see him muling around the dance +floor till you get sick of the sight of his darn fool smile, and you +wish all the diamonds Maude wears were lost in the deepest smudge fires +of hell. Start? There is no start. But there's a sure finish." + +"You mean if he don't quit he'll go right down and out?" + +Bill came to a halt directly in front of his friend. His keen eyes +gazed straight into the strong face confronting him. + +"No, I don't mean that. It's worse," he said, with a gravity quite +changed from his recent agitated manner. + +"Worse?" Kars' question came sharply. "Go on." + +"Oh, I did all you said that night. I got a holt on him next day at +the Gridiron, where he's stopping. He told me to go to a certain hot +place and mind my own business, which was doping out drugs. I went to +Murray, and he served me little better. He grinned. He always grins. +He threw hot air about a youngster and wild oats. He guessed the kid +would sober up after a fling. They'd figgered on this play. His +mother, and José, and him. They guessed it was best. Then he was +going to get around back and act the man his father was on the trail. +That was his talk. And he grinned--only grinned when I guessed he was +five sorts of darned fool." + +Bill paused. It might almost have been that he paused for breath after +the speed at which his words came. Kars waited with deliberate +patience, but his jaws were set hard. + +"But now--now?" The doctor passed a hand across his broad forehead and +smoothed his iron gray hair. He turned his eyes thoughtfully upon the +window through which they beheld the white and gold of the Elysian +Fields. "The worst thing's happened. It's in the mouth of every one +in Leaping Horse. It's the scream of every faro joint and 'draw' +table. The fellers on the sidewalk have got the laugh of it. Maude's +got dopey on him. She's plumb stuck on him. The dame Pap's spilt +thousands on has gone back on him for a fool boy she was there to roll. +Things are seething under the surface, and it's the sort of atmosphere +Pap mostly lives in. He's crazy mad. And when Pap's crazy, things are +going to happen. There's just one end coming. Only one end. That +boy's going to get done up, and Pap's to be all in at the doing. Oh, +he'll take no chances. There'll be no shriek. That kid'll peter right +out sudden. And it'll be Pap who knows how." + +"Murray's in the city. Have you seen him?" Kars spoke coldly. + +"I saw him yesterday noon. I went to Adler's at lunch time to be sure +getting him." + +"What did he say?" + +"I scared him. Plumb scared him. But it was the same grin. Gee, how +that feller grins." + +"What did he say?" Kars persisted. + +"He'd do all he knew to get the kid away. But he guessed he'd be up +against it. He guessed Alec had mighty little use for him, and you +can't blame the kid when you think of that grin. But he figgered to do +his best anyway. He cursed the kid for a sucker, and talked of a +mother's broken heart if things happened. But I don't reckon he cares +a cuss anyway. That feller's got one thing in life if I got any sane +notion. It's trade. He hasn't the scruples of a Jew money-lender for +anything else." + +Kars nodded. + +"I'm feeling that way--too." + +"You couldn't feel otherwise." + +"I wasn't thinking of your yarn, Bill," Kars said quickly. "It's +something else. That feller's shipped in a thousand rifles, and a big +lot of ammunition. I lit on it through John Dunne. What's he want 'em +for? I've been asking myself that ever since. He don't need a +thousand rifles for trade." + +It was Bill's turn for inquiry. It came with a promptness that +suggested his estimation of the importance of the news. + +"What is it?" he demanded. + +"Is he going to wipe out the Bell River outfit?" Kars' eyes regarded +his friend steadily. + +For some moments no further word was spoken. Each was contemplating +the ruthless purpose of a man who contemplated wiping out a tribe of +savages to suit his own sordid ends. It was almost unbelievable. Yet +a thousand rifles for a small trading post. It was the number which +inspired the doubt. + +It was Kars who finally broke the silence. He left his seat on the +table and stood again at the window with his back turned. + +"Guess we best leave it at that," he said. + +"Yes. What are you going to do?" + +"Look in at the Gridiron, and pass the time of day with young Alec." +Kars laughed shortly. Then he turned, and his purpose was shining in +his eyes. "Alec's Jessie's brother--and I've got to save that kid from +himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AT THE GRIDIRON + +Kars was early abroad. He left his apartment on the first floor of the +same apartment house which furnished Bill Brudenell with his less +palatial quarters, and sauntered down the main street in the direction +of the Gridiron. + +His mood was by no means a happy one. He realized only too surely that +a man bent upon an errand such as he was stood at something more than a +disadvantage. His life was made up of the study of the life about him. +His understanding was of the cruder side of things. But now, when +action, when simple force of character were his chief assets, he was +called upon, or he had called upon himself, to undertake the difficult +task of making a youth, big, strong, hot-headed, mad with the newly +tasted joy of living, detach himself from his new life. + +Nor was he without qualms when he passed the portals of the hotel, +which ranked second only in ill-fame to Pap Shaunbaum's. + +If the Gridiron possessed less ill-fame than its contemporary it was +not because its proprietor was any less a "hold-up" than Pap. It was +simply that his methods were governed by a certain circumspection. He +cloaked his misdoings under a display of earnest endeavor in the better +direction. For instance, every room displayed a printed set of +regulations against anything and everything calculated to offend the +customer of moral scruples--if such an one could be discovered in +Leaping Horse. Dan McCrae enforced just as many of these regulations +as suited him. And, somehow, for all he had drawn them up himself, +none of them ever seemed to suit him. But they had their effect on his +business. It became the fashion of the men of greater substance to +make it a headquarters. And it was his boast that more wealth passed +in and out of his doors than those of any house in Leaping Horse, +except the bank. + +Dan only desired such custom. He possessed a hundred and one pleasant +wiles for the loosening of the bank rolls of such custom. No man ever +left his establishment after a brief stay without considerably less +bulging pockets. + +When Dan espied the entrance of John Kars from behind the glass +partition, which divided his office from the elaborate entrance hall, +he lost no time in offering a personal welcome. Kars was his greatest +failure in Leaping Horse, just as Pap had had to admit defeat. That +these two men had failed to attract to their carefully baited traps the +richest man in the country, a man unmarried, too, a man whose home +possessed no other attraction than that of a well-furnished apartment, +was a disaster too great for outward lamentation. + +But neither despaired, even after years of failure. Nor did they ever +lose an opportunity. It was an opportunity at this moment. + +"Glad to see you back, Mr. Kars." The small, smiling, dangerous Dan +was the picture of frank delight. "Leaping Horse misses her big men. +Had a pleasant vacation?" + +Kars had no illusions. + +"Can't call a business trip a vacation," he said with a smile. "I +don't reckon the North Pacific in winter comes under that heading +either. Say, there's a boy stopping around here. Alexander Mowbray. +Is he in the hotel?" + +Dan cocked a sharp eye. + +"I'll send a boy along," he said, pressing a bell. A sharp word to the +youth who answered it and he turned again to the visitor. + +"Guess you know most of these up-country folk," he said. "There's +things moving inside. We're getting spenders in, quite a little. The +city's asking questions. Mr. Mowbray's been here all winter, and he +seems to think dollars don't cut ice beside a good time. I figger +there's going to be a fifty per cent raise in the number of outfits +making inside this season. There's a big talk of things. Well, it +mostly finds its way into this city, so we can't kick any." + +"No, you folks haven't any kick coming," Kars said amiably. This man's +inquiries made no impression on him. It was the sort of thing he was +accustomed to wherever he went in Leaping Horse. + +At that moment a bell rang in the office, and Kars heard his name +repeated by the 'phone operator. + +"Ah, Mr. Mowbray's in," observed Dan, turning back to the office. + +"Mr. Mowbray will be glad if you'll step right up, Mr. Kars." The +'phone clerk had emerged from his retreat. + +"Thanks. What number?" + +"Three hundred and one. Third floor, Mr. Kars," replied the clerk, +with that love of the personal peculiar to his class. Then followed a +hectoring command, "Elevator! Lively!" + +Kars stepped into the elevator and was "expressed" to the third floor. + +A few moments later he was looking into the depressed eyes of a youth +he had only known as the buoyant, headstrong, north-bred son of Allan +Mowbray. + +The change wrought in one brief winter was greater than Kars had +feared. Dissipation was in every line of the half-dressed youth's +handsome face, and, as Kars looked into it, a great indignation mingled +with his pity. But his indignation was against the trader who had left +the youth to his own foolish devices in a city whose morals might well +have shamed an aboriginal. Nor was his pity alone for the boy. His +memory had gone back to the splendid dead. It had also flown to the +two loving women whose eyes must have rained heart-breaking tears at +the picture he was gazing upon. + +The boy thing out a hand, and a smile lit his tired features for a +moment as he welcomed the man who had always been something of a hero +to him. He had hastily slipped on his trousers and thrust his feet +into shoes. His pajama jacket was open, revealing the naked flesh +underneath. Nor could Kars help but admire the physique now being so +rapidly prostituted. + +"It's bully of you looking me up," Alec said, with as much cordiality +as an aching head would permit. + +Then he laughed shamefacedly. "Guess I'm dopey this morning. I sat in +at 'draw' last night, and collected quite a bunch of money. I didn't +feel like quitting early." + +Kars took up a position on the tumbled bed. His quick eyes were busy +with the elaborate room. He priced it heavily in his mind. Nor did he +miss the cocktail tray at the bedside, and the litter of clothes, +clothes which must have been bought in Leaping Horse, scattered +carelessly about. + +"It don't do quitting when luck's running," he said, without a shade of +censure. "A feller needs to call the limit--till it turns. 'Draw's' +quite a game." + +Alec had had doubts when John Kars' name had come up to him. He had +only been partially aware of them. It had been the working of a +consciousness of the life he was living, and of the clean living nature +of his visitor. But the big man's words dispelled the last shadow of +doubt, and he went on freely. + +"Say," he cried, enthusiasm suddenly stirring him, "I'm only just +getting wise to the things I missed all these years. It gets me beat +to death how a feller like you, who could come near buying the whole +blamed city, can trail around the country half your time and the other +dope around on a rough sea with the wind blowing clear through your +vitals." + +"It's cleaner air--both ways." + +The boy flung himself on the bed with his back against the foot-rail. +He reached out and pressed the bell. + +"Have a cocktail?" he said. "No?" as Kars shook his head. "Well, I +got to, anyway. That's the only kick I got coming to the mornings. +Gee, a feller gets a thirst. But who'd give a whoop for clean air? +I've had so much all my life," he went on, with a laugh. "I'm lookin' +for something with snap to it." + +"Sure." Kars' steady eyes never changed their smiling expression. +"Things with snap are good for--a while." + +"'A while'? I want 'em all the time. Guess I owe Murray a big lot. +It was him who fixed mother so she'd stake me, and let me git around. +I didn't always figger Murray had use for me. But he's acted fine, and +I guess I--say, I ran short of money a while back, and when he came +along down he handed me a bunch out of his own dip, and stood good for +a few odd debts! Murray! Get a line on it. Can you beat it? And +Murray figgers more on dollars than any feller I know." + +"You never know your friends till you get a gun-hole in your stomach," +Kars laughed. "Murray's more of a sport than you guessed. He +certainly don't unroll easy." + +The boy's face was alight with good feeling. He sat up eagerly. + +"That's just how I thought," he cried. "I----" A knock at the door +was followed by the entrance of a bell-boy with the cocktail. Alec +seized it, and drank thirstily. + +Kars looked on. He gave no sign. + +"That feller knows his job," he said, as the boy withdrew. + +Alec laughed. He was feeling in better case already. + +"Sure he does. A single push on that bell means one cocktail. He +generally makes the trip twice in the morning. But say, talking of +Murray, one of these days I'm going to make a big talk with him and +just tell him what I feel 'bout things. I've got to tell him I've just +bin a blamed young fool and didn't understand the sort of man he was." + +"Then you've had trouble with him--again?" Kars' question had a sudden +sharpening in it. He was thinking of what Bill had told him. + +"Not a thing. Say, we haven't had a crooked word since we quit the old +Fort. He's a diff'rent guy when he gets away from his--store. No, +sir, Murray's wise. He guesses I need to see and do things. And he's +helped me all he knows. And he showed me around some dandy places +before I got wise." + +He laughed boisterously, and his laugh drove straight to the heart of +the man who heard it. + +Kars was no moralist, but he knew danger when he saw it, moral or +physical. The terrible danger into which this youth, this foolish +brother of Jessie, had been plunged by Murray McTavish stirred him as +he had not been stirred for years. Women, gaming, drink. This simple, +weak, splendid youth. Leaping Horse, the cesspool of the earth. A +mental shudder passed through him. But the acutest thought of the +moment was of the actions of Murray McTavish. Why had he shown this +boy "places"? Why had he financed him privately, and not left it to +Ailsa Mowbray? Why, why, had he lied to Bill on the subject of a +quarrel with Alec? + +But these things, these thoughts found no outward expression. He had +his purpose to achieve. + +He nodded reflectively. + +"Murray's got his ways," he said. "Guess we most have. Murray's ways +mayn't always be our ways. They mayn't ever be. But that don't say a +thing against 'em." He smiled. It was the patient smile of a man who +is entirely master of himself. "Then Murray's got a kick coming to +him, too. He's a queer figger, and he knows it and hates it. A thing +like that's calculated to sour a feller some. I mean his ways." + +Alec's agreement came with a smiling nod. He became expansive. + +"Sure," he said. "You know Murray's got no women-folk around him. And +I guess a feller's not alive till he's got women-folk around him." He +drew a deep breath. "Gee," he cried, in a sort of ecstasy. "I know +those things--now." + +"Yes." + +Kars was watching the play of emotion in the boy's eyes. He was +following every thought passing behind them, measuring those things +which might militate against his object. + +"I can tell you a thing now I'd have hated to remember a while back," +Alec went on. "Say, it used to set me plumb crazy thinking of it. +There were times I could have shot Murray down in his tracks for it. +It was Jessie. He was just crazy to marry her. I know," he nodded +sapiently. "He never said a word. Jess knew, too, and she never said +a word. She hates him. She hates him--that way--worse than she hates +the Bell River neches. I was glad then. But it ain't that way now. +We were both wrong. Maybe I'll make a talk with her one day. I owe +Murray more than the dollars he handed me." + +"Yes." + +Not by the movement of an eyelid did Kars betray his feelings. But a +fierce passion was tingling in every nerve as the youth went on talking. + +"It's queer how folks get narrowed down living in a bum layout like the +Fort." He smiled in a self-satisfied way. "I used to think José a +wise guy one time. There's heaps of things you can't see right in a +layout like that. I reckon Jessie ought to know Murray better. It's +up to me. Don't you guess that way, too?" + +Kars smilingly shook his head. + +"It doesn't do butting in," he said. "Y'see folks know best how they +need to act. You're feeling that way--now. No feller can think right +for others. Guess folks' eyes don't see the same. Maybe it's to do +with the color," he smiled. "When a man and a woman get thinking +things, there's no room for other folks." + +Kars' manner had a profound effect. He was talking as though dealing +with a man of wide worldly knowledge, and the youth was more than +flattered. He accepted the situation and the suggestion. + +"Maybe you're right," he said at once. "I felt I'd like to hand him a +turn--that's all." + +Kars shrugged. + +"It doesn't matter a thing," he said, with calculated purpose. "It's +just my notion." Then he laughed. "But I didn't get around to worry +with Murray McTavish. It's better than that." + +He rose abruptly from the bed and moved across to the window. Alec was +in the act of lighting a cigarette. The match burned itself out in his +fingers, and the cigarette remained unlighted. His eyes were on his +visitor with sudden expectation. Finally he broke into an uneasy laugh. + +"Murray isn't the only ice on the river," he said weakly. + +Kars turned about. + +"Nor is he the only gold you'll maybe locate around. Do you feel like +handling--other? Are you looking to make a big bunch of dollars? Do +you need a stake that's going to hand you all the things you've dreamed +about? You guess I'm a rich man. Folks figger I'm the richest man +north of 'sixty.' Maybe I am. Well, if you guess you'd like to be the +same way, it's up to you." + +Alec was sitting up. The effects of his overnight debauch had been +completely flung aside. His eyes, so like his father's, were wide, and +his handsome face was alive with a sudden excitement. He flung his +cigarette aside. + +"Say, you're--fooling," he breathed incredulously. + +Kars shook his head. + +"I quit that years," he said. + +"I--I don't get you," Alec went on at last, in a sort of desperate +helplessness. + +Kars dropped on to the bed again and laughed in his pleasant fashion. + +"Sure you don't. But do you feel like it? Are you ready to take a +chance--with me?" + +"By Gee--yes! If there's a stake at the end of it." + +"The stake's there, sure. But--but it means quitting Leaping Horse +right away. It means hitting the old trail you curse. It means +staking your life for all it's worth. It means using all that that big +man, your father, handed you in life. It means getting out on God's +earth, and telling the world right here you're a man, and a mighty big +man, too. It means all that, and," he added with a smile that was +unreadable, "a whole heap more." + +Something of the excitement had died out of Alec's face. A shade of +disappointment clouded his eyes. He reached out for another cigarette. +Kars watched the signs. + +"Well?" he questioned sharply. "There's millions of dollars in this +for you. I'll stake my word on it it's a cinch--or death. I've +handled the strike, and I know it's all I figger. I came along to hand +you this proposition. And it's one I wouldn't hand to another soul +living. I'm handing it to you because you're your father's son, +because I need a feller whose whole training leaves him with the north +trail beaten. It's up to you right here--and now." + +The youngster smoked on in silence. Kars watched the battle going on +behind his averted eyes. He knew what he was up against. He was +struggling to save this boy against the overwhelming forces of extreme +youth and weakness. The whole of his effort was supported by the +barest thread. Would that thread hold? + +Again came that nervous movement as Alec flung away his half-smoked +cigarette. + +"When should we need to start?" he demanded almost brusquely. + +"Two weeks from now." + +The egoism of the boy left him almost unappreciative of what this man +was offering him. Kars had subtly flattered his vanity. He had done +it purposely. He had left the youngster with the feeling that he was +being asked a favor. There was relief in the tone of the reply. And +complaint followed it up. + +"That's not so bad. You said 'right away.'" + +Kars' eyes were regarding him steadily. + +"I call that right away. Well? I'm not handing you any more of it +till you--accept," he added. + +Alec suddenly sprang from the bed. He paced the room with long nervous +strides. He felt that never in his life had he faced such a crisis. +Kars simply looked on. + +At last the boy spoke something of his thought aloud. + +"By Gee! I can't refuse it. It's--it's too big. Two weeks. She'll +be crazy about it. She'll--by gad, I must do it. I can----" + +He broke off abruptly. He came to the foot-rail of the bed. He stood +with his great hands clenching it firmly, as though for support. + +"I'll go, Kars," he cried. "I'll go! And it's just great of you. +I--I--it was kind of hard. There's things----" + +Kars nodded. + +"Sure," he said, with a smile. "But--she'll wait for you--if she's the +woman you guess. It's only a year. But say, you'll need to sign a +bond. A bond of secrecy, and--good faith. There's no quitting--once +it's signed." + +The big man's eyes shone squarely into the boy's. And something of the +dead father looked back at him. + +"Curse it, I'll sign," Alec cried with sudden force. "I'll sign +anything. Millions of dollars! I'll sign right away, and I'll--play +as you'd have me." + +The boy passed a hand through his hair. His decision had cost him +dearly. But he had taken it. + +"Good." Kars rose from the bed. "Get dressed, Alec," he said kindly. +"You'll sign that bond before you eat. After that I'll hand you all +the talk you need. Call round at my apartment when you're fixed." + +As John Kars passed out of the Gridiron one thought alone occupied him. +Murray McTavish had lied. He had lied deliberately to Bill Brudenell. +He had made no attempt to save the boy from the mire into which he had +helped to fling him. On the contrary, he had thrust him deeper and +deeper into it. Why? What--what was the meaning of it all? Where +were things heading? What purpose lay behind the man's doings? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN + +The prompt action of John Kars looked as if it would achieve the +desired result. His plan had been without any depth of subtlety. It +was characteristic of the man, in whom energy and action served him in +all crises. Alec had to be saved. The boy was standing at the brink +of a pit of moral destruction. He must be dragged back. But physical +force would be useless, for, in that direction, there was little if any +advantage on the side of the man who designed to save him. Kars had +won through the opportunities that were his. And he sat pondering his +success, and dreaming of the sweet gray eyes which had inspired his +effort, when Alec reached his apartment in fulfilment of his promise. + +It was a happy interview. It was far happier than Alec could have +believed possible, in view of his passionate regret at abandoning +Leaping Horse, and the woman, whose tremendous attractions had caught +his unsophisticated heart in her silken toils, for something +approaching a year. But then Kars was using all the strength of a +powerful, infectious personality in his effort. + +He listened to the boy's story of his love and regret with sympathy and +apparent understanding. He encouraged him wherever he sought +encouragement. He had a pleasantry of happy expression wherever it was +needed. In a word he played to the last degree upon a nature as weak +as it was simply honest. + +The net result was the final departure of Alec in almost buoyant mood +at the prospects opening out before him, and bearing in his pocket the +signed agreement, whereby, at the price of absolute secrecy, and a +year's supreme effort, he was to achieve everything he needed to lay at +the feet of a woman he believed to be the most perfect creature on +God's beautiful earth. + +Kars watched him go not without some misgivings, and his fears were +tritely expressed to Bill Brudenell, who joined him a few minutes later. + +"There's only one thing to unfix the things I've stuck together," he +said. "It's the--woman." + +And Bill's agreement added to his fears of the moment. + +"Sure. But you haven't figgered on--Pap." + +"Pap?" + +Bill nodded. + +"There's fourteen days. Pap's crazy mad about Maude and the boy. The +boy won't figger to quit things for fourteen days. If I'm wise he'll +boost all he needs into them. Well--there's Pap." + +Bill was looking on with both eyes wide open, as was his way. He had +put into a few words all he saw. And Kars beheld in perfect nakedness +the dangers to his plans. + +"We must get busy," was all he said, but there was a look of doubt in +his usually confident eyes. + +Maude lived in an elaborate house farther down the main street, and +Alec Mowbray was on his way thither. He had kept from Kars the fact +that his midday meal was to be taken with the woman who had now frankly +abandoned herself to an absorbing passion for the handsome youth from +the wilderness "inside." + +It was no unusual episode in the career of a woman of her class. On +the contrary, it was perhaps the commonest exhibition of her peculiar +disposition. Hundreds of such women, thousands, have flung aside +everything they have schemed and striven for, and finally achieved as +the price of all a woman holds sacred, for the sake of a sudden, +unbridled passion she is powerless to control. Perhaps "Chesapeake" +Maude understood her risks in a city of lawlessness, and in flinging +aside the protection of such a man as Pap Shaunbaum. Perhaps she did +not. But those who looked on, and they were a whole people of a city, +waited breathless and pulsating for the ensuing acts of what they +regarded as a human _comedy_. + +Alec, his slim, powerful young body clad in the orthodox garb of this +northern city, swung along down the slush-laden street, his thoughts +busy preparing his argument for the persuading of the woman who had +become the sun and centre of his life. He knew his difficulties, he +knew his own regrets. But the advantages both to her, and to him, +which Kars had cleverly pointed out, outweighed both. His mind was set +on persuading her. Nor did he question for a moment that for her, as +for him, the bond between them was an enduring love that would always +be theirs, and would adapt itself to their mutual advantage. The +northern wilderness was deeply bred in him. + +His way took him past Adler's Hotel, and, in a lucid moment, he +remembered that Murray was stopping there. An impulse made him pause +and look at his watch. It yet wanted half an hour to his appointment. +Yes, he would see if Murray were in. He must tell him of his purpose +to leave the city a while. It would be necessary to send word to his +mother, too. + +Murray was in. He was just contemplating food when he received Alec's +message. He sent down word for him to come up to his room, and waited. + +Murray McTavish was very much the same man of methodical business here +in Leaping Horse as the Fort knew him. The attractions of the city +left him quite untouched. His method of life seemed to undergo no +variation. A single purpose dominated him at all times. But that +purpose, whatever it might be, was his own. + +His room was by no means extravagant, such as was the room Alec +occupied at the Gridiron. Adler's Hotel boasted nothing of the +extravagance of either of the two leading hotels. But it was ample for +Murray's requirements. The usual bedroom furnishing was augmented by a +capacious writing desk, which was more or less usual throughout the +hotel. + +He was at his desk now, and his bulk filled the armchair to the limits +of its capacity. He pushed aside the work he had been engaged upon, +turned away from the desk, and awaited the arrival of his visitor. + +There was no smile in his eyes now, nor, which was more unusual, was +there any smile upon his gross features. His whole pose was +contemplative, and his dark, burning eyes shone deeply. + +But it was a different man who greeted the youth as the door was thrust +open. The smiling face was beaming welcome, and Murray gripped the +outstretched hand with a cordiality that was not intended to be +mistaken. + +"Sit right down, boy," he said. "You're around in time to eat with me. +But I'll chase up a cocktail." + +But Alec stayed him. + +"I just can't stay, Murray," he said hastily. "And I'm not needing a +cocktail just now. I was passing, and I thought I'd hand you the thing +I got in my mind, and get you to pass word on to my mother and Jessie." + +He took the proffered chair facing the window. Murray had resumed his +seat at the desk, which left him in the shadow. + +"Why, just anything you say," Murray returned heartily. "The plans?" + +The contrast between them left the trader overwhelmed. Alec, so tall, +so clean-cut and athletic of build. His handsome face so classically +molded. His fair hair the sort that any woman might rave over. +Murray, insignificant, except in bulk. But for his curious dark eyes +he must inevitably have been passed over without a second thought. + +Alec drew up his long legs in a movement that suggested unease. + +"Why, I can't tell you a thing worth hearing," he said, remembering his +bond. "It's just I'm quitting Leaping Horse in two weeks. I'm +quitting it a year, maybe." Then he added with a smile of greater +confidence, "I've hit a big play. Maybe it's going to hand me a pile. +Guess I'm looking for a big pile." Then he added with a cordial, happy +laugh, "Same as you." + +Murray's smile deepened if anything. + +"Why, boy, that's great," he exclaimed. "That's the greatest news +ever. Guess you couldn't have handed me anything I like better. As +for your mother, she'll be jumping. She wasn't easy to fix, letting +you get around here. You're going to make good. I'll hand her that +right away. I'm quitting. I'm getting back to the Fort in a few days. +That's bully news. Say, you're quitting in two weeks?" + +"Yep. Two weeks." + +Alec felt at ease again. He further appreciated Murray in that he did +not press any inquisition. + +They talked on for a few minutes on the messages Alec wished to convey +to his mother, and finally the boy rose to go. + +It was then that Murray changed from his attitude of delight to one of +deep gravity, which did not succeed in entirely obliterating his smile. + +"I was going to look you up if you hadn't happened along," he said +seriously. "I was talking to Wiseman last night. You know Wiseman, of +the Low Grade Hills Mine, out West? He's pretty tough. Josh Wiseman's +a feller I haven't a heap of use for, but he's worth a big roll, and +he's in with all the 'smarts' of Elysian Fields. Say, don't jump, or +get hot at what I'm going to say. I just want to put you wise." + +"Get right ahead," Alec said easily. He felt that his new relations +with Murray left him free to listen to anything he had to say. + +"Why, it's about Pap," Murray went on, deliberately. "And your news +about quitting's made me glad. Wiseman was half soused, but he made a +point of rounding me up. He wanted to hand me a notion he'd got in his +half-baked head. He said two 'gun-men' had come into the city, and +they'd come from 'Frisco because Pap had sent for them. He saw them +yesterday and recognized them both. Josh hails from 'Frisco, you see. +He handed his yarn to me to hand on to you. Get me? I don't know how +much there is to it. I can't figger if you need to worry any. But +Josh is a wise guy, as well as tough. Anyway, I'm glad you're +quitting." + +He held out a hand in warm cordiality, and Alec wrung it without a +shadow of concern. He laughed. + +"Why say, that's fine," he cried, his eyes shining recklessly. "If it +wasn't for that darn pile I'd stop right around here. If Pap gets +busy, why, there's going to be some play. I don't give a whoop for all +the Paps in creation. Nor for his 'gunmen' either." + +He was gone, and Murray was standing at his window gazing upon +surroundings of squalid shacks, the tattered fringe of the main street. +But he was not looking at these things. His thought was upon others +that had nothing to do with the mire of civilization in which he stood. +But he gave no sign, except that all his smile was swallowed up by the +fierce fires burning deep down in his dark eyes. + + +The dance hall revel at the Elysian Fields was in full swing. The +garish brilliancy of the scene was in fierce contrast with the night +which strove to hide the meanness prevailing beyond Pap Shaunbaum's +painted portals. The filthy street, the depth of slush, melting under +a driving rain, which was at times a partial sleet. The bleak, biting +wind, and the heavy pall of racing clouds. Then the huddled figures +moving to and fro. Nor were they by any means all seeking the +pleasures their money could buy. The "down-and-outs" shuffled through +the uncharitable city day and night, in rain, or sunshine, or snow. +But at night they resembled nothing so much as the hungry coyotes of +the open, seeking for that wherewith to fill their empty bellies. The +knowledge of these things only made the scenes of wanton luxury and +vice under the glare of light the more offensive. + +It was the third night of Alec Mowbray's last two weeks in Leaping +Horse. How he had fared in his settlement of affairs with the woman +who had taken possession of his moral being was not much concern of any +one but himself. Neither Kars nor Bill Brudenell had heard of any +contemplated change in his plans. They had not heard from him at all. + +Nor was this a matter for their great concern. Their concern was Pap +Shaunbaum and the passing of the days of waiting while their outfit was +being prepared at the camp ten miles distant from the city, for their +invasion of Bell River. They were watching out for the shadow of +possible disaster before the youth could be got away. + +Kars had verified the last detail of the situation in so far as the +proprietor of the Elysian Fields was concerned. Nor was he left with +any illusions. Pap had no intention of sitting down under this +terrible public and private hurt a boy from the "inside" had inflicted +upon him. The stories abroad were lurid in detail. It was said that +the storm which had raged in the final scene between Pap and his +mistress, when she quit the shelter he had provided for her for good, +had been terrible indeed. It was said he had threatened her life in a +moment of passion. It was said she had dared him to his face. It was +also said that he, the great "gunman," Pap, had groveled at her feet +like any callow school-youth. These things were open gossip, and each +repetition of the tales in circulation gained in elaboration of detail, +till all sorts of wild extravagances were accepted as facts. + +But Kars and Bill accepted these things at a calm valuation. The side +of the affair that they did not treat lightly was the certainty that +Pap would not sit down under the injury. They knew him. They knew his +record too well. Whatever jeopardy the woman stood in they were +certain of the danger to young Alec. Of this the stories going about +were precise and illuminating. Jack Beal, the managing director of the +Yukon Amalgam Corporation, and a great friend of John Kars, had spoken +with a certainty which carried deep conviction, coining from a man who +was one of the most important commercial magnates of the city. + +"Pap'll kill him sure," he said, in a manner of absolute conviction. +"Maybe he won't hand him the dose himself. That's not his way these +days. But the boy'll get his physic, and his folks best get busy on +his epitaph right away." + +The position was more than difficult. It was well-nigh impossible. +None knew better than Kars how little there was to be done. They could +wait and watch. That seemed to be about all. Warning would be +useless. It would be worse. The probable result of warning would be +to drive the hothead to some dire act of foolishness. Even to an open +challenge of the inscrutable Pap. Kars and Bill were agreed they dared +risk no such calamity. There were the police in Leaping Horse. But +the Mounted Police were equally powerless, until some breach was +actually committed. + +The interim of waiting was long. To Kars, those remaining days before +he could get Alec away were perhaps the longest and most anxious of his +life. For all the sweet eyes of Jessie were urging him on behalf of +her foolish brother, he felt utterly helpless. + +But neither he nor Bill remained idle. Their watch, their secret watch +over their charge, was prosecuted indefatigably. Every night saw them +onlookers of the scene on the dance-floor of the Elysian Fields. And +their vantage ground was the remote interior of one of the boxes. +Their purpose was simple. It was a certainty in their minds that Pap +would seek a public vengeance. Nor could he take it better than in his +own dance hall where Maude and Alec flouted him every night. Thus, if +their expectations were fulfilled, they would be on the spot to succor. +A watchful eye might even avert disaster. + +It was the third night of their watch. Nor was their vigil without +interest beyond its object. Bill, who knew by sight every frequenter +of the place, spent his time searching for newcomers. But newcomers +were scarce at this season of the year. The arrivals had not yet begun +from Seattle, and the "inside" was already claiming those who belonged +to it. Kars devoted himself to a distant watch on Pap Shaunbaum. +However the man's vengeance was to come, he felt that he must discover +some sign in him of its imminence. + +Pap was at his post amongst the crowd at the bar. His dark face hid +every emotion behind a perfect mask. He talked and smiled with his +customers, while his quick eyes kept sharp watch on the dancers. But +never once did he display any undue interest in the tall couple whose +very presence in his hall must have maddened him to a murderous pitch. + +The clatter of the bar was lost under the joyous strains of the +orchestra. Its pleasant quality drew forth frequent applause from the +light-hearted crowd. Many were there who had no thought at all for +that which they regarded as a _comedy_. Others again, like the men in +the box, watched every move, every shade of expression which passed +across the face of the Jewish proprietor. None knew for certain. But +all guessed. And the guess of everybody was of a dénouement which +would serve the city with a topic of interest for at least a year. + +"It's thinner to-night." + +Bill spoke from the shadow of his curtain. + +"The gang?" Kars did not withdraw his gaze. + +"Sure. There's just one guy I don't know. But he don't look like +cutting any ice. He's half soused anyhow, with four bottles of wine on +the table between him and his dame. When he's through I don't think +he'll know the Elysian Fields from a steam thresher. That blond dame +of his looks like rolling him for his 'poke' without a worry. He'll +hit the trail for his claim to-morrow without the color of a dime." + +"Which is he?" Kars demanded, with a certain interest. + +"Why, right there by that table under the balcony. See that dude with +the greased head, and the five dollar nosegay in his coat. There, that +one with Sadie Long and the 'Princess.' Get the Princess with the +cream bow and her hair trailing same as it did when she was a child +forty years ago. Next that outfit." + +There was deep disgust in the doctor's tones, but there was something +like pity in his half-humorous eyes. + +"He hasn't even cleaned himself," he went on. "Looks like he's just +quit the drift bottom of a hundred foot shaft, and come right in full +of pay dirt all over him. Get his outfit. If you ran his pants +through a sluice-box you'd get an elegant 'color.' Guess even Pap +won't stand for him if he gets his eyes around his way." + +Kars offered no comment, but he was studying the half-drunken miner +closely. + +At that moment the orchestra struck up again. It was a two step, and +for once Alec and the beautiful Maude failed to make an appearance. + +"Where's the--kid?" said Kars sharply. + +"Sitting around, I guess." + +Bill craned carefully. Then he sat back. + +"See him?" demanded Kars. + +"Sure. They're together. A bottle of wine's keeping them busy." + +A look of impatience flashed into the eyes of Kars. His rugged face +darkened. + +"It's swinish!" he cried. "It's near getting my patience all out. +Wine. Wine and women. What devil threw his spell over the boy's +mother letting him quit her apron strings----" + +"Murray, I guess," interjected Bill. + +"Murray! Yes!" + +Kars relapsed into silence again. Nor did either of them speak again +till the music ceased. A vaudeville turn followed. A disgustingly +clad, bewigged soubrette murdered a rag time ditty in a rasping +soprano, displaying enough gold in her teeth to "salt" a barren claim. +No one gave her heed. The lilt of the orchestra elicited a fragmentary +chorus from the audience. For the rest the people pursued the +prescribed purpose of these intervals in the dance. + +Bill was regarding the stranger from the "inside." + +"He's not getting noisy drunk," he said. "Seems dopey. Guess she'll +hustle him off in a while." + +"You guess he's soused?" + +Kars' question startled his companion. + +"What d'you make it then?" + +"He hasn't taken a drink since you pointed him out. Nor has his dame." + +Both men continued to watch the mud-stained creature. Nor was he +particularly prepossessing, apart from his general uncleanness. His +shock of uncombed, dark hair grew low on his forehead. His dark eyes +were narrow. There was something artificial in his lounging attitude, +and the manner in which he was pawing the woman with him. + +"You guess he's acting drunk?" There was concern in Bill's voice. + +"Can't say for sure." + +The orchestra had started a waltz, and the new dance seemed to claim +all the dancers. Alec and Maude were one of the first couples to +appear. But the onlookers were watching the stranger. He had roused +up, and was talking to his woman. A few moments later they emerged +from their table to join the dancers. + +"Going to dance," Bill commented. "He sure looks soused." + +The man was swaying about as he moved. Kars' searching gaze missed +nothing. The couple began to dance. And for all the man's +unsteadiness it was clear he was a good, if reckless, dancer. The +sober gait of the other dancers, however, seemed unsuited to his taste, +and he began to sweep through the crowd with long racing strides which +his woman could scarcely keep pace with. + +Kars stood up. + +"He'll get thrown out," said Bill. "Pap won't stand for that play. +He'll tear up the floor with his nailed boots." + +The man had swept round the hall, and he and his partner were lost +under the balcony beneath the box in which the "onlookers" were sitting. + +In a moment a cry came up from beneath them in a woman's voice. +Another second and a chorus of men's angry voices almost drowned the +music. The men in the orchestra were craning, and broad smiles lit +some of their faces. Other dancers had come to a halt. They, too, +were gazing with varying expressions of inquiry and curiosity, but none +with any display of alarm. + +"He's boosted into some one," said Bill. + +A babel of voices came up from below. They were deep with fierce +protest. The trouble was gaining in seriousness. Kars leaned out of +the box. He could see nothing of what was going on. He abruptly drew +back, and turned to his companion. + +"Say----" + +But his words remained unuttered. He was interrupted by a violent +shout from below. + +"You son-of-a----!" + +Bill's hand clutched at Kars' muscular arm. + +"That's the kid! Quick! Come on!" + +They started for the door of the box. But, even as the doctor gripped +and turned the handle, the sequel to such an epithet in a place like +Leaping Horse came. Two shots rang out. Then two more followed on the +instant. + +In a moment every light in the place was put out and pandemonium +reigned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DR. BILL INVESTIGATES + +All that had been feared by the two men in the box had come to pass. +It had come with a swiftness, a sureness incomparable. It had come +with a mercilessness which those who knew him regarded as only to be +expected in a man of Pap Shaunbaum's record. + +Accustomed to an atmosphere very little removed from the lawless, the +panic and pandemonium that reigned in the dark was hardly to have been +expected on the part of the frequenters of the Elysian Fields. But it +was the sudden blacking out of the scene which had wrought on the +nerves. It was the doubt, the fear of where the next shots might come, +which sent men and women, shrieking and shouting, stampeding for the +doors which led to the hotel. + +Never had the dance hall at the Elysian Fields so quickly cleared of +its revelers. The crush was terrible. Women fell and were trampled +under foot. It was only their men who managed to save them from +serious disaster. Fortunately the light in the hotel beyond the doors +became a beacon, and, in minutes only, the human tide, bedraggled and +bruised, poured out from the darkness of disaster to the glad light +which helped to restore confidence and a burning curiosity. + +But curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for that night at least. The +doors were slammed in the faces of those who sought to return, and the +locks were turned, and the bolts were shot upon them. The excited +crowd was left to melt away as it chose, or stimulate its shaking +nerves at the various bars open to it. + +Meanwhile John Kars and Bill Brudenell fumbled their way to the floor +below. The uncertainty, the possible danger, concerned them in nowise. +Alec was in the shooting. They might yet be in time to save him. This +thought sent them plunging through the darkness regardless of +everything but their objective. + +As they reached the floor they heard the sharp tones of Pap echoing +through the darkened hall. + +"Fasten every darn door," he cried. "Don't let any of those guys get +back in. Guess the p'lice'll be along right away. Turn up the lights." + +The promptness with which his orders were obeyed displayed something of +the man. It displayed something more to the two hurrying men. It +suggested to both their minds that the whole thing had been prepared +for. Perhaps even the employees of this man were concerned in their +chief's plot. + +As the full light blazed out again it revealed the bartenders still +behind the bar. It showed two men at the main doors, and another at +each of the other entrances. Furthermore, it revealed the drop curtain +lowered on the stage, and the orchestra men peering questioningly, and +not without fearful glances, over the rail which barred them from the +polished dance floor. + +Besides these things Pap Shaunbaum was hurrying across the hall. His +mask-like face displayed no sign of emotion. Not even concern. He was +approaching two huddled figures lying amidst a lurid splash of their +own blood. They were barely a yard from each other, and their position +was directly beneath the floor of the box which the "onlookers" had +occupied. + +The three men converged at the same moment. It was the sight of John +Kars and Dr. Bill that brought the first sign of emotion to Pap's face. + +"Say, this is hell!" he cried. Then, as the doctor knelt beside the +body of Alec Mowbray, the back of whose head, with its tangled mass of +blood-soaked hair, was a great gaping cavity: "He's out. That pore +darn kid's out--sure. Say, I wouldn't have had it happen for ten +thousand dollars." + +"No." + +It was Kars who replied. Dr. Bill was examining the body of the man +whose clothing was stained with the auriferous soil of his claim. + +Two guns were lying on the floor beside the bodies. Pap moved as +though to pick one up. Kars' hand fell on his outstretched arm. + +"Don't touch those," he said. "Guess they're for the police." + +Pap straightened up on the instant. His dark eyes shot a swift glance +into the face of the man he had for years desired to come into closer +contact with. It was hardly a friendly look. It was questioning, too. + +"They'll be around right away. I 'phoned 'em." + +Kars nodded. + +"Good." + +Bill looked up. + +"Out. Right out. Both of them. Guess we best wait for the police." + +"Can't they be removed?" Pap's eyes were on the doctor. + +Kars took it upon himself to reply. + +"Not till the p'lice get around." + +But Pap would not accept the dictation. + +"That so, Doc?" he inquired, ignoring Kars. + +"That's so," said Bill, with an almost stern brevity. Then, in a +moment, the Jew's face flushed under his dark skin. + +"The darn suckers!" he cried. "This'll cost me thousands of dollars. +It'll drive trade into the Gridiron fer weeks. If I'd been wise to +that bum being soused he'd have gone out, if he broke his lousy neck." + +"I'm not dead sure he was soused," said Kars. + +The cold tone of his voice again brought Pap's eyes to his face. + +"What d'you guess?" he demanded roughly. + +"He wasn't a miner, and he wasn't soused. I guess he was a 'gunman.'" + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Just what I said. I'd been watching him a while from the box above +us. I've seen enough to figger this thing's for the p'lice. We're +going to put this thing through for what it's worth, and my bank roll's +going to talk plenty." + +Bill had risen from his knees. He was standing beyond the two bodies. +His shrewd eyes were steadily regarding Pap, who, in turn, was gazing +squarely into the cold eyes of John Kars. + +Just for a moment it looked as though he were about to fling back hot +words at the unquestioned challenge in them. But the light suddenly +died out of his eyes. His thin lips compressed, and he shrugged his +shoulders. + +"Guess that's up to you," he said, and moved away towards the bar. + +Kars gazed down at the dead form of Alec Mowbray. All the coldness had +gone out of his eyes. It had been replaced with a world of pity, for +which no words of his could have found expression. The spectacle was +terrible, and the sight of it filled him with an emotion which no sight +of death had ever before stirred. He was thinking of the widowed +mother. He was thinking of the girl whose gray eyes had taught him so +much. He was wondering how he must carry the news to these two living +souls, and fling them once more to the depths of despair such as they +had endured through the murder of a husband and father. + +He was aroused from his grievous meditations by a sharp hammering on +the main doors. It was the police. Kars turned at once. + +"Open that door!" he said sharply to the waiter standing beside it. + +The man hesitated and looked at Pap. Kars would not be denied. + +"Open that door," he ordered again, and moved towards it. + +The man obeyed on the instant. + + +It was two days before the investigation into the tragedy at the +Elysian Fields released Dr. Bill. Being on the spot, and being one of +the most skilful medical men in Leaping Horse, the Mounted Police had +claimed him, a more than willing helper. + +In two issues the Leaping Horse _Courier_ had dared greatly, +castigating the morality of the city, and the Elysian Fields in +particular, under "scare" headlines. For two days the public found no +other topic of conversation, and the "shooting" looked like serving +them indefinitely. They had been waiting for this thing to happen. +They had been given all they desired to the full. A hundred witnesses +placed themselves at the disposal of the Mounted Police, and at least +seventy-five per cent of them were more than willing to incriminate Pap +Shaunbaum if opportunity served. + +Nor was John Kars idle during that time. His attorneys saw a good deal +of him, and, as a result, a campaign to track down the instigator of +this shooting was inaugurated. And that instigator was, without a +shadow of doubt,--Pap Shaunbaum. + +Kars saw nothing of Bill during those two days of his preoccupation. +But the second morning provided him with food for serious reflection. +It was a brief note which reached him at noon. It was an urgent demand +that he should take no definite action through his legal advisers, +should take no action at all, in fact, until he, Bill, had seen him, +and conveyed to him the results of the investigation. He would +endeavor to see him that night. + +Kars studied the position carefully. But he committed himself to no +change of plans. He simply left the position as it stood for the +moment, and reserved judgment. + +It was late at night when Bill made his appearance. Kars was waiting +in his apartment with what patience he could. He had spent a busy day +on his own mining affairs, which usually had the effect of wearying +him. For the last two or three years the commercial aspect of his +mining interests came very nearly boring him. It was only the sheer +necessity of the thing which drove him to the offices of the various +corporations he controlled. + +But the sight of his friend banished every other consideration from his +mind. The shooting of Alec Mowbray dominated him, just as, for the +present, it dominated the little world of Leaping Horse. + +He thrust a deep chair forward in eager welcome, and looked on with +grave, searching eyes while the doctor flung himself into it with a +deep, unaffected sigh of weariness. + +"Guess I haven't had a minute, John," he said. "Those police fellers +are drivers. Say, we always reckon they're a bright crowd. You need +to see 'em at work to get a right notion. They've got most things beat +before they start." + +"This one?" + +Kars settled himself in a chair opposite his visitor. His manner was +that of a man prepared to listen rather than talk. He stretched his +long legs comfortably. + +"I said 'most.' No-o, not this one. That's the trouble. That's why I +wrote you. The police are asking a question. And they've got to find +an answer. Who fired the shots that shut out that boy's lights?" + +Kars' brows were raised. An incredulous look searched the other's face. + +"Why, that 'gunman'--surely." + +Bill shook his head. He had been probing a vest pocket. Now he +produced a small object, and handed it across to the other with a keen +demand. + +"What's that?" His eyes were twinkling alertly. + +Kars took the object and examined it closely under the electric light. +After a prolonged scrutiny he handed it back. + +"The bullet of a 'thirty-two' automatic," he said. + +"Sure. Dead right. The latest invention for toughs to hand out murder +with. The police don't figger there's six of them in Leaping Horse." + +"I brought one with me this trip. They're quick an' handy. But--that?" + +"That?" Bill held the bullet poised, gazing at it while he spoke. "I +dug that out of that boy's lung. There's another of 'em, I guess. The +police have that. They dug theirs out of the woodwork right behind +where young Alec was standing. It was that opened his head out. Those +two shots handed him his dose. And the other feller--why, the other +feller was _armed with a forty-five Colt_." + +There was nothing dramatic in the manner of the statement. Bill spoke +with all his usual calm. He was merely stating the facts which had +been revealed at the investigation. + +Kars' only outward sign was a stirring of his great body. The +significance had penetrated deeply. He realized the necessity of his +friend's note. + +Bill went on. + +"If we'd only seen it all," he regretted. "If we'd seen the shots +fired, we'd have been a deal wiser. I'm figgering if we hadn't quit +our seats we'd have been wise--much wiser. But we quit them, and it's +no use figgering that way. The police have been reconstructing. +They're reconstructing right now. There's a thing or two stands right +out," he went on reflectively. "And they're mostly illuminating. +First Alec was quicker with his gun than the other feller. He did that +'gunman' up like a streak of lightning. He didn't take a chance. +Where he learned his play I can't think. There was a dash of his +father in what he did. And he'd have got away with it if--it hadn't +been for the automatic from somewhere else. The 'gunman' drew on him +first. That's clear. A dozen folk saw it. He'd boosted Alec and his +dame in the dance, and stretched Maude on the floor. And he did it +because he meant to. It was clumsy--which I guess was meant, too. I +don't reckon it looked like anything but a dance hall scrap. That's +where we see Pap in it. The 'gunman' got his dose in the pit of his +bowels, and a hole in his heart, while his own shots went wide, and +spoiled some of the gold paint in the decorations. The police tracked +out both bullets that came from his gun. But the automatic?" + +He drew a deep breath pregnant with regret. + +"It came from a distant point," he went on, after a pause. "There's +folks reckon it came from one of the boxes opposite where we were +sitting. How it didn't get some of the crowd standing around keeps me +guessing. The feller at the end of that gun was an--artist. He was a +jewel at the game. And it wasn't Pap. That's as sure as death. Pap +was standing yarning to a crowd at the bar when all the shots were +fired. And the story's on the word of folks who hate him to death. We +can't locate a soul who saw any other gun pulled. I'd say Pap's got +Satan licked a mile. + +"Say, John," he went on, after another pause, "it makes this thing look +like a sink without any bottom for the dollars you reckon to hand out +chasing it up. The boy's out. And Pap's tracks--why, they just don't +exist. That's all. It looks like we've got to stand for this play the +same as we have to stand for most things Pap and his gang fancy doing. +I'm beat to death, and--sore. Looks like we're sitting around like two +sucking kids, and we can't do a thing--not a thing." + +"But there's talk of two 'gunmen.'" Kars was sitting up. His attitude +displayed the urgency of his thought. "The folks all got it. I've had +it all down the sidewalk." + +His emotions were deeply stirred. They were displayed in the mounting +flush under his weather-stained cheeks. In the hot contentiousness of +his eyes. He was leaning forward with his feet tucked beneath his +chair. + +"Sure you have. So have I. So have the police." Bill's reply came +after a moment's deliberation. "Josh Wiseman handed that out. Josh +reckons he's seen them, and recognized them. But Josh is a big souse. +He's seeing things 'most all the time. He figgers the feller young +Alec shot up was one of them--by name Peter Hara, of 'Frisco. The +other, we haven't seen, he reckons is 'Hand-out' Lal. Another 'Frisco +bum. But the police have had the wires going, and they can't track +fellers of that name in 'Frisco, or anywhere else. Still, it's a trail +they're hanging to amongst others. And I guess they're not quitting it +till they figger Josh is right for the bughouse. No," he added with a +trouble that would no longer be denied, "the whole thing is, Pap's +clear. There's not a thing points his way. It's the result of a dance +hall brawl, and we--why, we've just got to hand on the whole pitiful +racket to two lone women at the Fort." + +For moments the two men looked into each other's eyes. Then Kars +started up. He began to pace the soft carpet with uneven strides. + +Suddenly he paused. His emotions seemed to be again under control. + +"It seems that way," he said, "unless Murray starts out before us." + +"Murray's quit," Bill shook his head. "He'd quit the city before this +thing happened. The morning of the same day. His whole outfit pulled +out with him. He doesn't know a thing of this." + +"I didn't know he'd quit." Kars stood beside the centre table gazing +down at the other. + +"The police looked him up. They wanted to hold up the news from the +boy's folks till they'd investigated. He'd been gone twenty-four +hours." + +"I hadn't a notion," Kars declared blankly. "I figgered to run him +down at Adler's." Then in a moment his feelings overcame his +restraint. "Then it's up to--me," he cried desperately. "It's up to +me, and it--scares me to death. Say--that poor child. That poor +little gal." Again he was pacing the room. "It's fierce, Bill! Oh, +God, it's fierce!" + +Bill's gravely sympathetic eyes watched the rapid movements of the man +as he paced restlessly up and down. He waited for that calmness which +he knew was sure to follow in due course. When he spoke his tones had +gathered a careful moderation. + +"Sure it's fierce," he said. Then he added: "Murray drives hard on the +trail. This story isn't even going to hit against his heels. Say, +John, you best let me hand this story on. Y'see my calling makes it +more in my line. A doctor's not always healing. There's times when +he's got to open up wounds. But he knows how to open 'em." + +"Not on your life, Bill!" Kars' denial came on the instant. "I'm not +shirking a thing. I just love that child to death. It's up to me. +Some day I'm hoping it's coming my way handing her some sort of +happiness. That being so I kind of feel she's got to get the other +side of things through me. God knows it's going to be tough for her, +poor little kid, but well, it's up to me to help her through." + +There was something tremendously gentle in the man's outburst. He was +so big. There was so much force in his manner. And yet the infinite +tenderness of his regard for the girl was apparent in every shadow of +expression that escaped him. + +Bill understood. But for once the position was reversed. The doctor's +kindly, twinkling eyes seemed to have absorbed all that which usually +looked out of the other's. They were calm, even hard. There was +bitter anger in them. His mellow philosophy had broken down before the +human feelings so deeply stirred. He had passed the lover's feelings +over for a reversion to the tragedy at the Elysian Fields. It was the +demoniac character of the detested Pap Shaunbaum. It was the hideous +uselessness of it all. It was the terrible viciousness of this leper +city which had brought the whole thing about. + +But was it? His mind went further back. There was another tragedy, +equally wanton, equally ferocious. The father as well as the son, and +he marveled, and wondered at the purpose of Providence in permitting +such a cruel devastation of the lives of two helpless, simple women. + +His sharp tones broke the silence. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "this thing needs to be hunted down, John. It +needs to be hunted down till the 'pound's' paid. Those two lone women +are my best friends. Guess they're something more to you. I can't see +daylight. I can't see where it's coming from, anyway. But some one's +got to get it. And we need a hand in passing it to him, whoever it is. +I feel just now there wouldn't be a thing in the world more comic to me +than to see Pap Shaunbaum kicking daylight with his vulture neck tied +up. And I'd ask no better of Providence than to make it so I could +laugh till my sides split. It's going to mean dollars an' dollars, and +time, and a big work. But if we don't do it, why, Pap gets away with +his play. We can't stand for that. My bank roll's open." + +"It doesn't need to be." All the gentleness had passed from Kars' +eyes, from his whole manner. It had become abrupt again. "Guess money +can't repay those poor folks' losses. But it can do a deal to boost +justice along. It's my money that's going to talk. I'm going to wipe +out the score those lone women can never hope to. I'm going to pay it. +By God, I'm going to pay it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN THE SPRINGTIME + +So the day came when the outfit of John Kars "pulled out." There had +been no change in his plans as the result of Alec Mowbray's murder. +There could be no change in them, so long as hundreds of miles divided +this man from the girl who had come to mean for him all that life +contained. The old passion for the trail still stirred him. The +Ishmaelite in him refused to change his nature. But since his manhood +had responded to natural claims, since the twin gray stars had risen +upon his horizon, a magnetic power held him to a definite course which +he had neither power nor inclination to deny. + +The days before the departure had been busy indeed. They had been +rendered doubly busy by the affairs surrounding Alec Mowbray's death. +But all these things had been dealt with, with an energy that left a +course of perfect smoothness behind as well as ahead. + +Everything, humanly possible, would be done to hunt down the instigator +and perpetrator of the crime, and a small fortune was placed at the +disposal of Kars' trusted attorneys for that purpose. For the rest he +would be personally responsible. In Bill Brudenell he had a willing +and sagacious lieutenant. In Abe Dodds, and in the hard-living expert +prospector, Joe Saunders, he had a staff for his enterprise on Bell +River beyond words in capacity and loyalty. + +But the "outfit." It was called "outfit," as were all such +expeditions. It resembled an army in miniature, white and colored. +But more than all else it resembled a caravan, and an extensive one. +The preparations had occupied the whole of the long winter, and had +been wrapped in profound secrecy. The two men who had carried them +out, under Bill Brudenell's watchful eye, had labored under no +delusions. They were preparing for a great adventure in the hunt for +gold, but they were also preparing for war on no mean scale. Their +enthusiasm rejoiced in both of these prospects, and they worked with an +efficiency that left nothing to be desired. + +The dispositions at departure were Kars' secret. Nor were they known +until the last moment. The warlike side of the expedition was +dispatched in secret by an alternative and more difficult trail than +the main communication with Fort Mowbray. It carried the bulk of +equipment. But its way would be shorter, and it would miss Fort +Mowbray altogether, and take up its quarters at the headwaters of Snake +River, to await the coming of the leaders. Abe and Saunders would +conduct this expedition, while Kars and Bill traveled via Fort Mowbray, +with Peigan Charley, and an outfit of packs and packmen such as it was +their habit to journey with. + +The start of the expedition was without herald or trumpet. It left its +camp in the damp of a gray spring morning, when, under cover of a +gradually lightening dawn, it struck through a narrow valley, where +feet and hoofs sank deep into a mire of liquid mud. + +To the west the hills rose amidst clouds of saturating mist. To the +east the rolling country mounted slowly till it reached the foot of +vast glacial crests, almost at the limit of human vision. The purpling +distance to the west suggested fastnesses remote enough from the +northern man, yet in those deep canyons, those wide valleys, along +creek-bank and river bed, the busy prospector was ruthlessly +prosecuting his quest for the elusive "color," and the mining engineer +was probing for Nature's most deeply hidden secrets. + +This was the Eldorado John Kars had known since his boyhood's days, +when the fierce fight against starvation had been bitter indeed. Few +of the secrets of those western hills were unknown to him. But now +that his pouch was full, and the pangs of hunger were only a remote +memory, and these hills claimed him only that he was lord of properties +within their heart which yielded him fortune almost automatically, his +eyes were turned to the north, and to the hidden world eastwards. + +It was a trail of mud and washout. It was a trail of landslide and +flood. It was a dripping land, dank with melting mists, and awash with +the slush of the thaw. The skies were pouring out their flood of +summer promise, those warming rains which must always be endured before +the hordes of flies and mosquitoes swarm to announce the real open +season. + +But these men were hard beyond all complaint at physical discomfort. +If they cursed the land they haunted, it was because it was their habit +so to curse. It was the curse of the tongue rather than of the heart. +For they were men who owed all that they were, or ever hoped to be, to +this fierce country north of "sixty." + + +Spring was over all. The northern earth was heaving towards awakening +from its winter slumber. As it was on the trail, so it was on Snake +River, where the old black walls of Fort Mowbray gazed out upon the +groaning and booming glacial bed, burying the dead earth beyond the +eyes of man. The fount of life was renewing itself in man, in beast, +even in the matter we choose to regard as dead. + +Jessie Mowbray was watching the broken ice as it swept on down the +flooding river. She was clad in an oilskin which had only utility for +its purpose. Her soft gray eyes were gazing out through the gently +falling rain with an awe which the display of winter's break up never +failed to inspire in her. + +The tremendous power of Nature held her spellbound. It was all so +vast, so sure. She had witnessed these season's changes since her +childhood and never in her mind had they sunk to the level of routine. +They were magical transformations wrought by the all-powerful fairy, +Nature. They were performed with a wave of the wand. The iron of +winter was swept away with a rush, and the stage was instantly set for +summer. + +But the deepest mystery to her was the glacier beyond the river. Every +spring she listened to its groaning lamentation with the same feelings +stirring. Her gentle spirit saw in it a monster, a living, moving, +heaving monster, whose voice awoke the echoes of the hills in protest, +and whose enveloping folds clung with cruel tenacity to a conquered +territory laboring to free itself from a bondage of sterility which it +had borne for thousands of years. To her it was like the powers of +Good battling with influences of Evil. It was as though each year, +when the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, these powers of Good +were seeking vainly to overthrow an evil which threatened the tiny +human seed planted in the world for the furthering of an All-wise +Creator's great hidden purpose. + +The landing was almost awash with the swollen waters. The booming +ice-floes swept on. They were moving northwards, towards the eternal +ice-fields, to melt or jamb on their way, but surely to melt in the +end. And when they had all gone it would be summer. And life--life +would be renewed at the post. + +Renewal of the life at the post meant only one thing for Jessie. It +meant the early return of John Kars. The thought of it thrilled her. +But the thrill passed. For she knew his coming only heralded his +passing on. + +She sighed and her soft eyes grew misty. Nor had the mist to do with +the rain which was saturating the world about her. Oh, if there were +to be no passing on! But she knew she could not hope for so much. +There was nothing for him here. Besides, he was wedded to the secrets +of the long trail. + +Wedded! Her moment, of regret passed, and a great dream filled her +simple mind. It was her woman's dream of all that could ever crown her +life. It was the springtime of her life and all the buoyant hope of +the break from a dead winter was stirring in her young veins. She put +from her mind the "passing on," and remembered only that he would soon +return. + +Her heart was full of a gentle delight as at last she turned back from +the river, and sought her home in the clearing. + +Her eyes were shining radiantly when she encountered Father José +passing over to his Mission from his ministrations to a sick squaw. + +"Been watching the old ice go?" he inquired, smiling into the eyes +which looked into his from under the wide brim of a waterproof hat. + +Jessie nodded. + +"It's spring--isn't it?" she said smiling. + +Her reply summed up her whole mood. The priest understood. + +"Surely. And it's good to see the spring, my child. It's good for +everybody, young and old. But," he added with a sigh, "it's specially +good for us up here. The Indians die like flies in winter. But your +mother's asking for you." + +The girl hurried on. Perhaps second to her love for John Kars came her +affection for her brave mother. + +Ailsa Mowbray met her at the threshold. + +"Murray's asking for you," she said, in her simply direct fashion. +"He's got plans and things he needs to fix. He told me this morning, +but I guess he needs to explain them himself. Will you go along up to +the Fort?" + +There was nothing in the mother's manner to invite the quick look of +doubt which her words inspired. + +Murray had only arrived from Leaping Horse two days before. Since that +time he had been buried under an avalanche of arrears of work. Even +his meals had had to be sent up to him at the Fort. He had brought +back reports of Alec's well-being for the mother and sister. He had +brought back all that abounding good-nature and physical and mental +energy which dispelled the last shadows of winter loneliness from these +women. Ailsa Mowbray had carried on the easy work of winter at the +store, but she was glad of the relief from responsibility which +Murray's return gave her. + +But he had laid before her the necessity of a flying visit up country +at once, and had urged her to again carry on the store duties in his +absence. Furthermore he had suggested that Jessie's assistance should +be enlisted during his absence, since Alec was away, and the work would +be heavier now that spring was opening. + +The mother had reluctantly agreed. For herself she had been willing +enough. But for Jessie she had stipulated that he should place the +matter before her himself. She had no desire that the one child +remaining to her should be made to slave her days at the Fort. She +would use none of her influence. Her whole interest in the trade which +had been her life for so long was waning. There were times when she +realized, in the loneliness which had descended upon them with Alec's +going, that only habit kept her to the life, and even that held her +only by the lightest thread. It was coming to her that the years were +passing swiftly. The striving of the days at the side of her idolized +husband had seemed not only natural, but a delight to her. Since his +cruel end no such feeling had stirred her. There were her children, +and she had realized that the work must go on for them. But now--now +that Alec had gone to the world outside her whole perspective had +changed. And with the change had come the realization of rapidly +passing years. + +There were times, even, when she speculated as to how and where she +could set up a new home for her children. A home with which Alec could +find no fault, and Jessie might have the chances due to her age. But +these things were kept closely to herself. The habit of years was +strong upon her, and, for all her understanding of her wealth, it was +difficult to make a change. + +"Can't you tell me, mother? I'd rather have you explain!" + +The likeness between mother and daughter was very strong. Even in the +directness with which they expressed their feelings. Jessie's feelings +were fully displayed in the expression of her preference. + +"Why don't you want to see Murray?" + +The mother's question came on the instant. It came with a suggestion +of reproach. + +"Oh, I'm not scared, mother," the girl smiled. "Only I don't just see +why Murray should ask me things you don't care to ask me. That's all." + +"Is it?" The mother's eyes were searching. + +"Nearly." + +Jessie laughed. + +"Best tell me the rest." + +The girl shook her head decidedly. + +"No, mother. There's no need. You're wiser than you pretend. +Murray's a better friend and partner--in business--than anything else. +Guess we best leave it that way." + +"Yes, it's best that way." The mother was regarding the pretty face +before her with deep affection. "But I told Murray he'd have to lay +his plans before you--himself. That's why he wants to see you up at +the Fort." + +The girl's response came at once, and with an impulsive readiness. + +"Then I'll go up, right away," she said. Nor was there the smallest +display of any of the reluctance she really felt. + + +The girl stood framed in the great gateway of the old stockade. The +oilskin reached almost to her slim ankles. It was dripping and the hat +of the same material which almost entirely enveloped her ruddy brown +head was trailing a stream of water on to her shoulders. + +Murray McTavish saw her from the window of his office. He saw her +pause for a few moments and gaze out at the distant view. He +remembered seeing her stand so once before. He remembered well. He +remembered her expressed fears, and all that which had happened +subsequently. The smile on his round face was the same smile it had +been then. Perhaps it was a smile he could not help. + +This time he made no move to join her. He waited. And presently she +turned and passed round to the door of the store. + +"Mother said you wanted to see me about something. Something you +needed to explain--personally. That so?" + +Jessie was standing beside the trader's desk. She was looking down +squarely into the man's smiling face. There was a curious fearlessness +in her regard that was not quite genuine. There was a brusquerie in +her manner that would not have been there had there been any one else +present. + +She removed the oilskin hat, and laid it aside on a chair as she spoke, +and the revelation of her beautiful chestnut hair, and its contrast +with her gray eyes, quickened the man's pulses. He was thinking of her +remarkable beauty even as he spoke. + +"Say, it's good of you to come along. You best shed that oilskin." + +He rose from his desk to assist. But the girl required none of his +help. She slipped out of the garment before he could reach her. He +accepted the situation, and drew forward the chair from the desk at +which Alec had been wont to work. + +"You'll sit," he said, as he placed it for her. + +But Murray's consideration and politeness had no appeal for Jessie. +She was anxious to be done with the interview. + +"That's all right," she said, with a short laugh. "The old hill +doesn't tire me any. I got the school in an hour, so, maybe, you'll +tell me about things right away." + +"Ah, there's the school, and there's a heap of other things that take +your time." Murray had returned to his desk, and Jessie deliberately +moved to the window. "It's those things made me want to talk to you. +I was wondering how you could fix them so you could hand us a big piece +of time up here." + +"You want me to work around the store?" + +The girl had turned. Her questioning eyes were regarding him steadily. +There was no unreality about her manner now. Murray's smile would have +been disarming had she not been so used to it. + +"Just while I'm--away." + +There was the smallest possible twist of wryness to the man's lips as +he admitted to himself the necessity for the final words. + +"I see." + +The girl's relief was so obvious that, for a moment, the man's gaze +became averted. + +Perhaps Jessie was unaware of the manner in which she had revealed her +feelings. Perhaps she knew, and had even calculated it. Much of her +mother's courage was hers. + +"You'd better make it plain--what you want. Exactly. If it's in the +interest of things, why, I'll do all I know." + +Murray's remarkable eyes were steadily regarding her again. His +mechanical smile had changed its character. It was spontaneous now. +But its spontaneity was without any joy. + +"Oh, it's in the interest of--things, or I wouldn't ask it," he said. +"Y'see," he went on, "I got right back home here to get news of things +happening north that want looking into. I've got to pull right away +before summer settles down good, and get back again. That being so it +sets everything on to your mother's shoulders--with Alec away. Your +mother's good grit. We couldn't find her equal anywhere when it comes +to handling this proposition. But she doesn't get younger. And it +kind of seems tough on her." He sighed, and his eyes had sobered to a +look of real trouble. "Y'see, Jessie, she's a great woman. She's a +mother I'd have been proud to call my own. But she's yours, and that's +why I'm asking that you'll weigh in and help her out--the time I'm +away. It's not a lot when you see your mother getting older every day, +is it? 'Specially such a mother. She's too big to ask you herself. +That's her way. It makes me feel bad when I get back to find her doing +and figgering at this desk when she ought to be sitting around at her +ease after all she's done in the past. It's that, or get white help in +from down south. And it don't seem good getting white help in, not +while we can keep this outfit going ourselves. There's things don't +need getting 'outside,' or likely we'll get a rush of whites that'll +leave us no better than a bum trading post of the past. It wouldn't be +good for us sitting around at this old post, not earning a grub stake, +while other folks were eating the--fruit we'd planted." + +The girl had remained beside the window the whole time he was talking. +But her eyes were on him, and she was filled with wonder, and not +untouched by the feeling he was displaying. This was a side to his +character she had never witnessed before. It astounded. But it also +searched every generous impulse she possessed. + +Her answer came on the instant. + +"You don't need to say another word," she cried. "Nothing matters so I +can help mother out. I know there's secrets and things. I've every +reason to know there are. The good God knows I've reason enough. We +all have. What those secrets are I can only guess, and I don't want +even to do that--now. I hate them, and wish they'd never been." + +"Your mother would never have been the wealthy woman she is without +them." + +"No, and I'd be glad if that were so." + +There was a world of passionate sincerity in the girl's denial. It +came straight from her heart. The loss of a father could find no +compensation in mere wealth. She understood the grasping nature of +this man. She understood that commercial success stood out before +everything in his desires. + +Her moment of more kindly feeling towards him passed, and a breath of +winter chilled her warm young heart. + +"Would you?" + +The man's smile had returned once more. His questioning eyes had a +subtle irony in their burning depths. + +"Sure. A thousand times I'd have us be just struggling traders as we +once were. Then I'd have my daddy with us, and mother would be the +happy woman I've always remembered her--before those secrets." + +The man stirred with a movement almost of irritation. + +"There's things I can't just see, child," he said, with a sort of +restrained impatience. "You're talking as if you guessed life could be +controlled at the will of us folk. You guess your father could have +escaped his fate, if he'd left our trade on Bell River alone. Maybe he +could, on the face of things. But could he have escaped acting the way +he acted? Could any of us? We all got just so much nature. That +nature isn't ours to cut about and alter into the shape we fancy. What +that nature says 'do,' we just got to do. Your nature's telling you to +get around and help your mother out. My nature says get busy and see +to things up north. Well, a landslide, or a blizzard, or any old thing +might put me out of business on the way. A storm, or fire might cost +you your life right here in this Fort. It's the chances of life. And +it's the nature of us makes us take the chances. We just got to work +on the way we see, and we can't see diff'rent--at will. If we could +see diff'rent at will, there's a whole heap I'd have changed in my +life. There's many things I'd never have done, and many things I +figger to do wouldn't be done. But I see the way I was born, and I +don't regret a thing--not a thing--except the shape Providence made me. +I'm going to live--not die--a rich man, doing the things I fancy, if +Life don't figger to put me out of business. And I don't care a curse +what it costs. It's how I'm born, and it's the nature of me demands +these things. I'm going to do all I've set my mind to do, and I'll do +it with my last kick, if necessary. Do you understand me? That's why +I'm glad of those secrets we're talking of. That's why I'll work to +the last to hold 'em. That's why I don't mean to let things stand in +my way that can be shifted. That's why I'm asking you to help us get +busy. Our interests I guess are your interests." + +It was another revelation of the man such as Jessie had had at +intervals before, and which had somehow contrived to tacitly antagonize +her. Her nature was rebelling against the material passion of this +man. There was something ruthlessly sordid underlying all he said. + +"I'm glad it doesn't need those feelings to make me want to help my +mother," she said quietly. "Interests? Say, interests of that sort +don't matter a thing for me. Thought of them won't put an ounce more +into the work I'll do to help--my mother. But she counts, and what you +said about her is all you need say. The other talk--is just talk." + +"Is it?" The man had risen from his chair. Jessie surveyed him with +cool measuring eyes. His podgy figure was almost ludicrous in her +eyes. His round, fleshy face became almost contemptible. But not +quite. He was part of her life, and then those eyes, so strange, so +baffling. So alive with an intelligence which at times almost +overwhelmed her. + +"It isn't just talk, Jessie," he said approaching her, till he, too, +stood in the full light of the window. "Maybe you don't know it, but +your interests are just these interests I'm saying. It'll come to you +the moment you want to do a thing against 'em. Oh, I'm not bullying, +my dear. I'll show you just how. If a moment came in your life when +you figgered to carry out something that appealed to you, and your +sense told you it would hurt your mother's proposition right here, +you'd cut it out so quick you'd forget you thought of it. Why? +Because it's you. And you figger that no hurt's going to come to your +mother from you. There isn't a thing in the world to equal a good +woman's loyalty to her mother. Not even the love of a girl for a man. +There's a whole heap of women-folk break up their married lives for +loyalty to a--mother. That's so. And that's why your interests are +surely the interests I got back of my head--because they're the +interests of your mother." + +But the girl was uninfluenced by the argument. His words had come +rapidly. But she saw underneath them the great selfish purpose which +was devouring the man. Her antagonistic feeling was unabated. She +shook her head. + +"You can't convince me with that talk," she said coldly. "I wouldn't +do a thing to hurt my mother. That's sure. But interests to be +personal need to be backed by desire. I hate all that robbed me of a +father." + +The man shook his head. + +"We most always get crossways," he said. "And it's the thing I just +hate--with you." Suddenly he laughed aloud. "Say, Jessie, I wonder if +you'd feel different to my argument if I didn't carry sixty pounds too +much weight for my size? I wonder if I stood six feet high, and had a +body like a Greek statue, you'd see the sense of my talk." + +The girl missed the earnestness lying behind the man's smiling eyes. +She missed the passionate fire he masked so well. She too laughed. +But her laugh was one of relief. + +"Maybe. Who knows," she said lightly. + +But, in a moment, regret for her unguarded words followed. + +"Before God, Jessie, if I thought by any act of mine I could get you to +feel diff'rent towards me, I'd rake out all the ashes of the things +I've figgered on all these years, to please you. I'd break up all the +hopes and objects, and ambitions I've set up, if it pleased you I +should act that way. I'd live the life you wanted. I'd act the way +you chose. + +"Say, Jessie," he went on, with growing passion, "I've wanted to tell +you all there is in the back of my head for months. I've wanted to +tell you the work I'm doing, the driving towards great wealth, is just +because I've sort of built up a hope you'd some day help me spend it. +But you've never given me a chance. Not a chance. I had to tell you +this to-day. It's got to be now--now--or never. I'm going away on +work that has to be done, and I can't just wait another day till I've +told you these things. + +"If you'd marry me, Jessie," the man continued, while the girl remained +mute, dumbfounded by the suddenness with which the passionate outburst +had come, "I'd hand you all you can ever ask in life. We'd quit this +God-forgotten land, and set up home where the sun's most always +shining, and our money counts for all that we guess is life. Don't +turn me down for my shape. Think of what it means. We can quit this +land with a fortune that would equal the biggest in the world. I know. +I hold the door to it. Your mother and I. I just love you with a +strength you'll never understand. All those things I've talked of are +just nothing to the way I love you. Say, child----" + +The girl broke in on him with a shake of the head. It was deliberate, +final. Even more final than her spoken words which sought for +gentleness. + +"Don't--just don't say another word," she cried. + +She started. For an instant her beautiful eyes flashed to the window. +Then they came back to the dark eyes which were glowing before her. In +a moment it seemed to her they had changed from the pleading, burning +passion to something bordering on the sinister. + +"I don't love you. I never could love you, Murray," she said a little +helplessly. + +There was the briefest possible pause, and a sound reached them from +outside. But the man seemed oblivious to everything but the passion +consuming him. And the manner of that seemed to have undergone a +sudden change. + +"I know," he broke out with furious bitterness and brutal force. "It's +because of that man. That Kars----" + +"Don't dare to say that," Jessie cried, with heightened color and eyes +dangerously wide. "You haven't a right to speak that way. You----" + +"Haven't I?" There was no longer emotion in the man's voice. Neither +anger, nor any gentler feeling. It was the tone Jessie always knew in +Murray McTavish. It was steady, and calm, and, just now, grievously +hurtful. + +"Well, maybe I haven't, since you say so. But I'm not taking your +answer now. I can't. I'll ask you again--next year, maybe. Maybe +you'll feel different then. I hope so." + +He swung about with almost electrical swiftness as his final words came +with a low, biting emphasis. And his movement was in response to the +swift opening of the door of the office. + +John Kars was standing in its framing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN + +It was a moment of intensity such as rarely fails to leave a landmark +in the lives of those concerned. For Murray McTavish it was as though +every fear that had ever haunted him from the rivalry of John Kars had +suddenly been translated into concrete form. For Jessie the hero of +all her dreams had magically responded to her unspoken appeal for +succor. John Kars felt something approaching elation at the unerring +instinct which had prompted his visit to the Fort on the instant of +arrival. Bill Brudenell looked on as usual with eyes calm in their +passionless wisdom. To him fortune's wheel was distinctly revolving in +their favor. + +Passing the window both he and Kars had caught and read the girl's half +terrified glance. Both of them had seen Murray standing before her, +and realized something of the passionate urgency of manner he was +laboring under. Their interpretation of the scene remained each to +himself. No word passed between them. Only had Kars' gait increased +as he hurried round towards the door. + +Now Kars' tone gave his friend and supporter infinite satisfaction. +Bill even felt he had miscalculated the primal instincts which governed +this man. He knew he was exercising a powerful restraint. And it +pleased as well as astonished him. + +"Why, say, you folks, I'm glad to have found you right away," Kars +said, with perfect cordiality. "We just pulled in on the trail, and +came right along up while Charley fixes things. We weren't sure of +getting Murray this time of year." + +Murray was completely master of himself. He was smiling his usual +greeting while John Kars shook hands with Jessie. Nor was his smile +any the less that his rival's words were for Jessie rather than for +him. He watched the new look born in the girl's eyes at sight of Kars +without a sign of emotion. And though it roused in him a fury of +jealousy his response only seemed to gain in cordiality. He laughed. + +"You're kind of lucky, too," he said. "I only got in from Leaping +Horse two days back, and I'm pulling out north right away." + +It was Bill who answered him. Jessie had picked up her oilskin, and +Kars was assisting her into it. + +"You only got in two days back?" Bill's brows were raised +questioningly. "You didn't drive as hard in the trail as folks guess." + +His shrewd eyes were twinkling as he watched the shadow of annoyance +pass swiftly across the trader's face. But Murray excused himself, and +his excuse seemed to afford Dr. Bill a certain amusement. + +"The trail was fierce," he said, with a shrug. "The devil himself +couldn't have got a hustle on." + +"No. We came the same trail." + +Kars seemed oblivious to what was passing between the two men. He +seemed to have no concern for any one but Jessie. + +"You going right down home now?" he asked. + +His eyes were smiling gently into the girl's upturned face, for all +that his mind was full of the tragic news he had yet to convey. + +He was so big as he stood there fastening the coat about her neck. His +rugged face was a picture of strength as he searched out the fastening +of the collar and secured it. His fur-lined pea-jacket, stained and +worn, his loose, travel-stained trousers tucked into his heavy knee +boots. These things aggravated his great bulk, and made him a very +giant of the world it was his whim to roam. + +The girl's moment of fear had entirely passed. There could be no +shadow for her where he was. Nor had the rapid beatings of her heart +anything to do with the scene through which she had just passed. It +was the touch of his great hands that stirred her with a thrill +exquisite beyond words. + +"Why, yes," she answered readily. "I've got school at the Mission. I +came up to get Murray's plans he needed to fix. He's going north, as +he said, and guessed I ought to help mother right here while he's away. +You see, we haven't got Alec now." + +"No." + +The smile passed out of Kars' eyes. The girl's final words shocked him +momentarily out of his self-command. There was one other at least who +held his breath for what was to follow that curt negative. But Bill +Brudenell need have had no fear. + +"But you'll be through after a while," Kars went on with a swift return +to his usual manner. "I'll be along down to pay my respects to your +mother. Meanwhile Bill and I need a yarn with Murray here. We're +stopping a while." + +While he was speaking he accompanied the girl to the door and watched +her till she had passed the angle of the building in the direction of +the gates of the stockade. Then he turned back to the trader, who was +once more seated at his desk. + +His whole manner had undergone a complete change. There was no smile +in his eyes now. There was a stern setting of his strong jaws. He +glanced swiftly at Bill, who had moved to the window. Then his eyes +came back to the mechanical smile on Murray's face. + +"Alec's out," he said. "He was shot up in the dance hall at the +Elysian Fields. It happened the night of the day you pulled out. He +ran foul of a 'gunman' who'd been set on his trail. He did the +'gunman' up. But he was done up, too. It's one of the things made us +come along up to you right away." + +John Kars made his announcement without an unnecessary word, without +seeking for a moment to lessen any effect which the news might have on +this man. He felt there was no need for any nicety. + +The effect of his announcement was hardly such as he might have +expected. There was a sort of amazed incredulity in Murray's dark eyes +and his words came haltingly. + +"Shot up? But--but--you're fooling. You--you must be. God! +You--must be!" + +Kars shrugged. + +"I tell you Alec is dead. Shot up." There was a hard ring in his +voice that robbed his words of any doubt. + +"God!" Then came a low, almost muttered expression of pity. "The poor +darn women-folk." + +The last vestige of Murray's mechanical smile had gone. An expression +of deep horror had deadened the curious light in his eyes. He sat +nerveless in his chair, and his bulk seemed to have become flabby with +loss of vitality. Bill was watching the scene from the window. + +"Yes. It's going to be terrible--for them." + +Kars spoke with a force which helped disguise his real emotions. By a +great effort Murray pulled himself together. + +"It's--it's Shaunbaum," he said. Then he went on as though to himself: +"It's over--that woman. And I warned him. Gee, I warned him for all I +knew! Josh Wiseman was right. Oh, the crazy kid!" + +Kars, looking on, remembered that this man had lied when he had said +that he had urged Alec to quit his follies. He remembered that he had +given Alec money, his money, to help him the further to wallow in the +muck of Leaping Horse. He remembered these things as he gazed upon an +outward display of grief, and listened to words of regrets which +otherwise must have carried complete conviction. + +He saw no necessity to add anything. And in a moment Murray had +started into an attitude of fierce resentment, and crashed his fleshy +fist down upon the pages of the ledger before him. + +"I warned him," he cried fiercely, his burning eyes fixed on the +emotionless face of his rival. "God! I warned him. I had it from +Josh Wiseman the 'gunmen' were around. Shaunbaum's 'gunmen.' Say, +Kars," he went on, reaching out with his clenched fist for emphasis, +"that boy was in my hotel to tell me he was quitting the city on a big +play for a great stake. And I tell you it was like a weight lifted +right off my shoulders. I saw him getting shut of Shaunbaum and that +woman. I told him I was glad, and I told him Josh Wiseman's yarn. I +told him they reckoned Shaunbaum meant doing him up some way. An' he +laffed. Just laffed, and--guessed he was glad. And now--they've got +him. It's broke me all up. But the women. Jessie! His mother! Say, +it's going to break their hearts all to pieces." + +Kars stirred in his chair. + +"We figgered that way," he said coldly. "That's why we came around to +you first. I'm going to tell the women-folk. And when I've told 'em I +guess you'll need to stop around a while. That's if you reckon this +place is to---- Say, they'll need time--plenty. It's up to you to +help them by keeping your hand on the tiller of things right here." + +Murray leaned back in his chair. His forcefulness had died out under +Kars' cold counsel. + +"Yes, it's up to me," he said with a sort of desperate regret. + +Presently he looked up. A light of apprehension had grown in his dark +eyes. + +"You said _you'd_ tell them?" he demanded eagerly. "Say, I couldn't do +it. I haven't the grit." + +"I'm going to tell them." + +There was no relaxing of manner in Kars. + +A deep relief replaced Murray's genuine dread. And presently his +fleshy chin sank upon his broad bosom in an attitude of profound +dejection. His eyes were hidden. His emotion seemed too deep for +further words. Bill, watching, beheld every sign. Nothing escaped him. + +For some moments the silence remained. Then, at last, it was Murray +who broke it. He raised his eyes to the cold regard of the man he had +so cordially come to hate. + +"Shaunbaum isn't going to get away with it?" he questioned. "The +p'lice? They've got a cinch on him?" + +"Shaunbaum won't get away with it." + +"They've--arrested him?" + +Kars shook his head. + +"No. Shaunbaum didn't shoot him. The boy did the 'gunman' up. You +see, it was the outcome of a brawl. There's no one to arrest--yet." + +"Who did shoot him up? The other 'gunman'? Josh spoke of two. Can't +he be got? He could give Shaunbaum away--maybe." + +"That's so. Guess that's most how it stands. Maybe it was the other +'gunman.'" + +Murray's satisfaction was obvious. He nodded. + +"Sure. It's Shaunbaum's play. There's no question. Everybody got it +ahead. It wouldn't be his way to see another feller snatch his dame +without a mighty hard kick. It's Shaunbaum--sure." + +He bestirred himself. All his old energy seemed to spring suddenly +into renewed life. Again came that forceful gesture of the fist which +Bill watched with so much interest, and the binding of the ledger +creaked under its force. + +"By God! I hope they get him and hang him by his rotten vulture neck! +He's run his vile play too long. He's a disease--a deadly, stinking, +foul disease. Maybe it was a 'gunman' did the shooting. But I'd bet +my life it was Shaunbaum behind him. And to think these poor lone +women-folk, hundreds of miles away from him, should be the victims. +See here, Kars, I'm no sort of full-fledged angel. I don't set myself +up as any old bokay of virtue. There's things count more with me, and +one of 'em's dollars. I'm out after all I can get of 'em. But I'd +give half of all I possess to see a rawhide tight around Shaunbaum's +neck so it wouldn't give an inch. I haven't always seen eye to eye +with young Alec. Maybe our temperaments were sort of contrary. But +this thing's got me bad. Before God, there's not a thing I wouldn't do +to save these poor women-folk hurt. They're right on their lonesome +now. Do you get all that means to women-folk? There isn't a soul +between them and the world. You ask me to stand by. You ask me to +keep my hand on the tiller of things. I don't need the asking--by any +one. I was Allan's partner, and Allan's friend. It's my duty and my +right to get in between these poor folk and a world that would show +them small enough mercy. And I don't hand my right to any man living. +I got to thank you coming along to me. But it don't need you, or any +other man, to ask me to get busy for the sake of these folk. You can +reckon on me looking after things right here, Kars. I'm ready to do +all I know. And God help any one who'd rob them of a cent. Allan left +his work only half done. It was for them. And I'm going to carry it +through. The way he'd have had it." + + +The rain had ceased. A watery sunshine had broken through the heavy +clouds which were reluctantly yielding before a bleak wintry wind. It +was the low poised sun of afternoon in the early year, and its warmth +was as ineffectual as its beam of light. But it shone through the +still tightly sealed double windows of Ailsa Mowbray's parlor, a +promise which, at the moment, possessed neither meaning nor appeal. + +The widowed mother was standing near the wood stove which radiated a +welcome warmth, and still roared its winter song through its open +dampers. John Kars was leaning against the centre table. His serious +eyes were on the ruddy light shining under the damper of the stove. +His strong hands were gripping the woodwork of the table behind him. +His grip was something in the nature of a clutching support. His fixed +gaze was as though he had no desire to shift it to the face of the +woman on whom he had come to inflict the most cruel agony a woman may +endure. + +"You have come to talk to me of Alec? Yes? What of him?" Ailsa +Mowbray's eyes, so steady, so handsome, eyes that claimed so much +likeness to Jessie's, were eager. Then, in a moment, a note of anxiety +found expression. "He--is well?" + +The man's own suffering at that moment was lacerating. All that was in +him was stirred to its deepest note. It was as though he were about to +strike this woman down, a helpless, defenceless soul, and all his +manhood revolted. He could have wept tears of bitterness, such as he +had never dreamed could have been wrung from him. + +"No." + +"What--has happened? Quick! Tell me!" + +The awful apprehension behind the mother's demand found no real outward +sign. She stood firmly--unwaveringly. Only was there a sudden +suppressed alarm in her voice. + +Kars stirred. The jacket buttoned across his broad chest seemed to +stifle him. A mad longing possessed him to reach out and break +something. The pleasant warmth of the room had suddenly become +unbearable. He could no longer breathe in the atmosphere. He raised +his eyes to the mother's face for one moment. The next they sought +again the ruddy line of the stove. + +"He--is dead." + +"Dead? Oh, no! Not that! Oh--God help me!" + +Kars had no recollection of a mother's love. He had no recollection of +anything but the hard blows in a cruel struggle for existence, beside a +man whose courage was invincible, but in whom the tender emotions at no +time found the smallest display. But all that which he had inherited +from the iron man who had founded his fortunes had failed to rob him of +any of the gentler humanity which his unremembered mother must have +bestowed upon him. His whole being shrank under the untold agony of +this mother's denial and ultimate appeal. + +Now he spoke rapidly. The yearning to spare this woman, who had +already suffered so much, urged him. To prolong the telling he felt +would be cruelty unthinkable. He felt brevity to be the only way to +spare her. + +"He was shot by a tough," he said. "It was at the Elysian Fields. He +was dancing, and there was a quarrel. If blame there was for Alec it +was just his youth, I guess. Just sit, and I'll hand it you--all." + +He moved from the table. He came to the mother's side. His strong +hand rested on her shoulder, and somehow she obeyed his touch and sank +into the chair behind her. It was the chair from which she had watched +her little world grow up about her, the chair in which she had pondered +on the first great tragedy of her life. + +Her lips were unmoving. Her eyes terrible in their stony calm. They +mechanically regarded the man before her with so little understanding +that he wondered if he should proceed. + +Presently, however, he was left no choice. + +"Go on," she said, and her hands clasped themselves in her lap with a +nerve force suggesting the physical clinging which remained her only +support. + +And at her bidding the man talked. He told his story in naked outline, +smothering the details of her boy's delinquencies, and sparing her +everything which could wound her mother's pride and devotion. His +purpose was clearly defined. The wound he had to inflict was well-nigh +mortal, but no word or act of his should aggravate it. His story was a +consummate effort of loyalty to the dead and mercy to the living. + +Even in the telling he wondered if those wide-gazing, stricken eyes +were reading somewhere in the depths of his soul the real secrets he +was striving so ardently to withhold. He could not tell. His +knowledge of women was limited, so limited. He hoped that he had +succeeded. + +At the conclusion of his pitiful story he waited. His purpose was to +leave the woman to her grief, believing that time, and her wonderful +courage, would help her. But it was difficult, and all that was in him +bade him stay, and out of his own great courage seek to help her. + +He stirred. The moment was dreadful in its hopelessness. + +"Jessie will be along," he said. + +The mother looked up with a start. + +"Yes," she said. "She's all I have left. Oh, God, it will break her +young heart." + +There was no thought of self in that supreme moment. The mother was +above and beyond her own sufferings, even when the crushing grief was +beating her down with the full force of merciless blows. Her thought +for the suffering of her one remaining child was supreme. + +The man's hands gripped till his nails almost cut the hard flesh of his +palms. He had no answer for her words. It was beyond his power to +answer such words. + +He turned with a movement suggesting precipitate flight. But his going +was arrested by the voice he knew and loved so well. + +"What--what--will break her young heart?" + +Jessie was standing just within the room, and the door was closed +behind her. Her eyes were on the drawn face of her mother, but, +somehow, it seemed to Kars that her words were addressed to him. + +In the agony of his feelings he was about to answer. Perhaps +recklessly. For somehow the dreadful nature of his errand was telling +on a temper unused to such a task. But once again the fortitude of the +elder woman displayed itself, and he was saved from himself. + +"I'll tell you, Jessie, when--he's gone." And the handsome, tragic +eyes looked squarely into the man's. + +For a moment the full significance of the mother's words remained +obscure to the man. Then the courage, the strength of them made +themselves plain. He realized that this grief-stricken woman was +invincible. Nothing--just nothing could break her indomitable spirit. +In the midst of all her suffering she desired to spare him, to spare +her one remaining child. + +There could be no reply to such a woman. Nor could he answer the +girl--now. He came towards her. Resting one great hand on the oilskin +covering her shoulders, he looked down into her questioning, troubled +eyes with infinite tenderness. + +"Jessie, there's things I can say to you I can't say even to your +mother. I want to say them now, with her looking on. I can't put all +I feel into words. Those things don't come easy to me. You see, I've +never had anything beyond my own concerns to look after, ever before in +my life. Other folks never kind of seemed to figger with me. Maybe +I'm selfish. It seems that way. But now--why, now that's all changed. +Things I always guessed mattered don't matter any longer. And why? +Why? Because there's just two women in the world got right into my +heart, and everything else has had to make way for them. Do you get +me, child? Maybe you don't. Well, it's just that all I am or ever +hope to be is for you. It don't matter the miles between us, or the +season. When I get your call I'll answer--right away." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN + +Fort Mowbray was enveloped in a black cloud of tragedy. Its simple +life flickered on. But it seemed to have been robbed of all its past +reality, all its quiet strength, all that made it worth while. + +Nor was the change confined to the white people. Even the Indians, +those stoic creatures born to the worst buffets life knows how to +inflict, whose whole object at the Mission was white man's bounty, to +be paid for by the worship of the white man's God, yielded to the +atmosphere of hopelessness prevailing. Alec had been the young white +chief after the great hunter who had paid his debt at the hands of the +Bell River terror. He, too, was gone, and they felt that they were in +the hands of the "smiling one" for whom their regard was chiefly +inspired by fear. The little white Father was their remaining hope, +and he was very, very old. + +So they set up their lamentations, surrounding them with all the rites +of their race. The old women crooned their mystic tuneless dirges. +The younger "charmed" the evil spirits haunting their path. The men +sat in long and profound council which was beset with doubt of the +future. + +Ailsa Mowbray and Jessie fought out their own battle, as once before +they had had to fight, and herein their native fortitude strove on +their behalf. For days they saw no one but the little priest who +remained ever at their call. The primitive in their lives demanded for +them that none should witness their hurt. They asked neither sympathy +nor pity, wherein shone forth the mother's wondrous courage which had +supported her through every trial. + +The days passed without the departure of Kars and Bill. The excuse was +the state of the river, by which they were to make the headwaters. The +ice was still flowing northward, but in ever lessening bulk, and the +time was filled in with repairs to the canoes which had suffered during +the long portage of the trail. + +This was the excuse, but it was only excuse. Both men knew it, and +neither admitted it verbally. The condition of the river would not +have delayed John Kars in the ordinary way. There was always the +portage. + +The truth lay in the passionate yearning of the heart of a man who had +remained so long beyond the influence of a woman upon his life. He had +set his task firmly before him, but its fulfilment now must wait till +he had made sure for himself of those things which had suddenly become +the whole aim and desire of his future. He could not leave the Fort +for the adventure of Bell River till he had put beyond all doubt the +hopes he had built on the love that had become the whole meaning of +earthly happiness to him. Bill understood this. So he refrained from +urging, and checked the impatient grumbling of Peigan Charley without +much regard for the scout's feelings. + +Murray McTavish continued at his post, undemonstrative, without a sign. +The stream of spring traffic, which consisted chiefly of outfitting on +credit the less provident trappers and pelt-hunters for their summer +campaign, went on without interruption. His projected journey had been +definitely abandoned. But for all his outward manner he was less at +his ease than would have seemed. His eyes were upon Kars at all times. +His delayed departure irritated him. Perhaps he, too, like Bill +Brudenell, understood something of its meaning. + +Although his outward seeming had undergone no change, there was a +subtle difference in Murray. His trade methods had hardened. The +trappers who appealed to him in their need left him with a knowledge +that their efforts must be increased if they were to pay off their +credits, and keep up their profits for the next winter's supplies. +Then, too, he avoided Kars, who was sharing the Padre's hospitality, +and even abandoned his nightly visits to the priest, which had been his +habit of years. It was as rarely as possible that he came down to the +Mission, and the clearing only saw him when the demand of nature made +his food imperative. + +It was one day, just after his midday dinner, that Murray encountered +Father José. He was leaving Ailsa Mowbray's house, and the old priest +protested at his desertion. The trader's answer was ready on the +moment. + +"I hate it, Padre," he said, with unnecessary force. "But I can't act +diff'rent. I got to get around for food or starve. This place +wouldn't see me in months else. You see, I had too much to do with +that boy going down to Leaping Horse. And it's broke me up so bad I +can't face it yet--even to myself. Guess Mrs. Mowbray understands +that, too. Say, she's a pretty great woman. If she weren't I'd be +scared for our proposition here. She must get time. They both must, +and the less they see of me, why, it's all to the good. Time'll do +most things for women--for us all, I guess. Then, maybe things'll +settle down--later." + +And the priest's reply was characteristic. It was the reply of a man +who has endured life in the land north of "sixty" for the sheer love of +the dark souls it is his desire to help. + +"Yes," he said, with a sigh. "Time can heal almost anything. But it +can't hide the scars. That's the work that falls to the grave." + +Murray remained silent while the priest helped himself to snuff. The +little man's eyes became tenderly reflective as he went on. + +"Sixty years I've been looking around at things. And my conceit made +me hope to read something of the meaning that lies behind the things +Providence hands out." He shook his white head. "It's just conceit. +I'm not beyond the title page. Maybe the text inside isn't meant for +me. For any of us. It just bewilders. These folk. I've known them +right through from the start. I can see Allan now fixing that old Fort +into order, that old Fort with all its old-time wickedness behind it. +I've watched him, and his wife, and his kiddies, as only a lonely man +in this country can study the folk about him. Wholesome, clean, +God-fearing. That was Allan and his folk in my notion. They fought +their battle with clean hands, and--merciful. It mostly seemed to me +God, was in their hearts all the time. They endured and fought, and it +wasn't always easy. Now?" His eyes were gazing thoughtfully at the +home which had witnessed so much happiness and so much sorrow. "Why, +now God's hand has fallen heavy--heavy. It seems Providence means to +drive them from the Garden. The flaming sword is before their eyes. +It has fallen on them, and they must go. The reason?" + +Again came that meditative head-shake. "It's God's will. So be it." + +Murray drew a deep breath. He was less impressed by the priestly view +than with the implication. + +"Driving them out?" he questioned, his curious eyes searching the wise +old face. + +"It seems that way. Mrs. Mowbray won't pass another winter here. It's +not good to pitch camp on the grave of your happiness." + +"No." + +Murray stood looking after the little man, whom nothing stayed in his +mission of mercy. He watched him vanish within the woods, in the +direction of the Indian encampment. + +So two weeks, two long weeks passed, and each day bore its own signs of +the last efforts of winter in its reluctant retreat. And spring, in +its turn, was invincible, and it marched on steadily, breathing its +fresh, invigorating warmth upon an earth it was seeking to make +fruitful. + +The cloud of disaster slowly began to lift. Nothing stands still. +Nothing can stand still. The power of life moves on inexorably. It +brings with it its disasters and its joys, but they are all passing +emotions, and are of so small account in the tremendous scheme being +slowly worked out by an Infinite Power. + +The blow which had fallen on Jessie Mowbray had robbed her for the +moment of all joy in the coming of John Kars. But her love was deep +and real, and, for all her sorrow, she had neither power nor desire to +deny it. In her darkest moments there was a measure of comfort in it. +It was something on which she could lean for support. Even in her +greatest depths of suffering it buoyed her, all unknown, perhaps, but +nevertheless. + +So, as the days passed, and the booming of the glacier thundered under +the warming spring sunlight, she yearned more and more for the gentle +sympathy which she knew he would readily yield. Thus it came that Kars +one day beheld her on the landing, gazing at the work which was going +on under his watchful eye. + +It was the revelation he had awaited. That night he conferred with +Bill, with the resulting decision of a start to be made within two days. + + +The wonder of it. God's world. A world of life and hope. The winter +of Nature's despair driven forth beyond the borders to the outland +drear of eternal northern ice. The blue of a radiant sky, flecked with +a fleece, white as driven snow, frothing waves tossed on the bosom of a +crisp spring breeze. The sun playing a delicious hide-and-seek, at +moments flashing its brilliant eye, and setting the channels of life +pulsating with hope, and again lost behind its screen of alabaster, +that only succeeded in adding to its promise. + +As yet the skeleton arms of the winter woods remained unclad. But wild +duck and geese were on the wing, sweeping up from the south in search +of the melting sloughs and flooded hollows, pastures laid open to them +by the rapid thaw. The birth of the new season was accomplished, and +the labor of mother earth was a memory. + +They were at the bank of the river again. They were in the heart of +the willow glade, still shorn of its summer beauty. The man was +standing, large, dominating before her, but obsessed by every unmanly +fear. The girl was sitting on a fallen tree-trunk, whose screen of +tilted roots set up a barrier which shut her from the view of the +frowning glances of the aged Fort above them, and whose winter-starved +branches formed a breakwater in the ice cold flood of the stream. + +Jessie's pretty eyes were gazing up into the man's face. A quick look +of alarm had replaced, for the moment, the shadow of grief which had so +recently settled in them. Her plain cloth skirt had only utility to +recommend it. Her shirt-waist was serviceable in seasons as uncertain +as the present. The loose buckskin coat, which reached to her knees, +and had been fashioned and beaded by the Mission squaws, had +picturesqueness. But she gained nothing from these things as a setting +for her beauty. + +But for Kars, at least, her beauty was undeniable. Her soft crown of +chestnut hair, hatless, at the mercy of the mood of the breeze, to him +seemed like a ruddy halo crowning a face of a childlike purity. Her +gentle gray eyes were to him unfathomable wells of innocence, while her +lips had all the ripeness of a delicious womanhood. + +"You were scared that day we pulled into the Fort," he had said, in his +abrupt way. + +He had been talking of his going on the morrow. And the change of +subject had come something startlingly to the girl. + +"Yes," she admitted, almost before she was aware of it. + +"That's how I guessed," he said. "I reached the office on the dead +jump--after I saw. Why? Murray had you scared. How?" + +There was no escape from the man's searching gaze. Jessie felt he was +probing irresistibly secrets she vainly sought to keep hidden. +Subterfuge was useless under that regard. + +"Murray asked me to marry him. He--asked me just then. I--wish he +hadn't." + +"Why?" The inexorable pressure was maintained. + +Jessie tried to avoid his eyes. She sought the aid of the bubbling +waters, racing and churning amongst the branches of the fallen tree. +She would have resented such catechism even in her mother. But she was +powerless to deny this man. + +"Why?" she echoed at last. Suddenly she raised her eyes to his again. +They were frankly yielding. "Guess I'd rather have Murray guiding a +commercial proposition than hand me out the schedule of life." + +"You don't like him, and you're scared of him. I wonder why." + +The girl sat up. She flung back her head, and her outspread hands +supported her, resting on the tree-trunk on either side of her. + +"Say, why do you talk that way?" she protested. "Is it always your way +to drive folks? I thought that was just Murray's way. Not yours. But +you're right, anyway. I'm scared of Murray when he talks love. I'm +scared, and don't believe. I'd as lief have his hate as his love. +And--and I haven't a thing against him." + +There was a sort of desperation in the girl's whole manner of telling +of her fears. It hurt the man as he listened. But his pressure was +not idle. He was seeking corroboration of those doubts which haunted +him. Doubts which had only assailed him for the first time when he +learned of the nature of Murray's freight with John Dunne, and which +had received further support in his realization of the man's lies on +the subject of Alec. + +"I've got to talk that way," he said. "I'm not yearning to drive you +any. Say, Jessie, if there's a person in this world I'd hate to drive +it's you. If there's a thing I could do to fix things easy for you, +why, a cyclone couldn't stop me fixing them that way. But I saw the +scare in your eyes through the window of that feller's office, and I +just had to know about it. I can't hand you the things tumbling around +in the back of my head. I don't know them all myself, but there's +things, and they're things I can't get quit of. Maybe some time +they'll straighten out, and when they do I'll be able to show them to +you. Meanwhile, we'll leave 'em where they are, and simply figger I'm +thinking harder than I ever thought in my life, and those thoughts are +around you, and for you, all the time." + +The simplicity of his words and manner robbed the girl of all +confusion. A great delight surged through her heart. This great +figure, this strong man, with his steady eyes and masterful methods was +setting himself her champion before the world. The lonely spirit of +the wilderness was deeply in her heart, and the sense of protection +became something too rapturous for words. + +Her frank eyes thanked him though her lips remained dumb. + +"I'm quitting to-morrow," he went on. "But I couldn't go till I'd made +a big talk with you. Bill's been on the grouch days. And Charley? +Why, Charley's come nigh raising a riot. But I had to wait--for you." + +He paused. Nor from his manner could any one have detected the depths +of emotion stirred in him. A great fear possessed him, and his heart +was burdened with the crushing weight of it. For the first time in his +life his whole future seemed to have passed into other hands. And +those hands were the brown sunburnt hands, so small, so desirable, of +this girl whose knowledge and outlook were bounded by the great +wilderness they had loved, and so often vilified together. To him it +seemed strange, yet so natural. To him it seemed that for the first +time he was learning something of the real meaning of life. Never had +he desired a thing which was beyond his power to possess. Doubt had +never been his. Now he knew that doubt was a hideous reality, and the +will of this girl could rob him beyond all hope of all that made his +life worth while. + +He drew a deep breath. It was the summoning of the last ounce of +purpose and courage in him. He flung all caution aside, he paused not +for a single word. He became the veriest suppliant at the shrine where +woman reigns supreme. + +"Y'see, Jessie, I want to tell you things. I want to tell you I love +you so that nothing else counts. I want to tell you I've been +traipsing up and down this long trail hunting around all the while for +something, and I guessed that something was--gold. So it was. I know +that now. But it wasn't the gold we men-folk start out to buy our +pleasures with. It was the sort of gold that don't lie around in +'placers.' It don't lie anywhere around in the earth. It's on top. +It walks around, and it's in a good woman's heart. Well, say," he went +on, moving towards the tree-trunk, and sitting down at the girl's side, +"I found it. Oh, yes, I found it." + +His voice had lowered to an appealing note which stirred the girl to +the depths of her soul. She sat leaning forward. Her elbows were +resting on her knees, and her hands were clasped. Her soft gray eyes +were gazing far out down the naked avenue ahead without seeing. Her +whole soul was concentrated on the radiant vision of the paradise his +words opened up before her. + +"I found it," he went on. "But it's not mine--yet. Not by a sight. +Pick an' shovel won't hand it me. The muscles that have served me so +well in the past can't help me now. I'm up against it. I guess I'm +well-nigh beat. I can't get that gold till it's handed me. And the +only hands can pass it my way are--yours." + +He reached out, and one hand gently closed over the small brown ones +clasped so tightly together. + +"Just these little hands," he continued, while the girl unresistingly +yielded to his pressure. "Say, they're not big to hold so much of the +gold I'm needing. Look at 'em," he added, gently parting them, and +turning one soft palm upwards. "But it's all there. Sure, sure. I +don't need a thing they can't hand me. Not a thing." He closed his +own hand over the upturned palm. "If I got all this little hand could +pass me there isn't a thing I couldn't do. Say, little Jessie, there's +a sort of heaven on this earth for us men-folk. It's a heaven none of +us deserve. And it lies in the soul of one woman. If she guesses to +open the gate, why, we can walk right in. It she don't choose that +way, then I guess there's only perdition waiting around to take us in. +Well, I got to those gates right now." One arm unobtrusively circled +the girl's waist, and slowly its pressure drew her towards him. "And +I'm waiting. It's all up to you. I'm just standing around. +Maybe--maybe you'll--open those gates?" + +The girl's head gently inclined towards him. In a moment her lips were +clinging to his. Those ripe, soft, warm lips had answered him. + +Later--much later, when the warming sun had absorbed the fleecy screen +which had served its earlier pastime, and the spring breeze had hastily +sought new fields upon which to devote its melting efforts, Jessie +found courage to urge the single regret these moments had left her. + +"And you still need to quit--to-morrow?" she asked shyly. + +"More surely than ever." + +"Why?" + +A smile lit the man's eyes. She was using his own pressure against +himself. + +He suddenly sprang from his seat. The girl, too, rose and stood +confronting him with questioning eyes. She was tall. For all his +great size he was powerless to rob her of one inch of the gracious form +which her mother had bestowed upon her. He held out his hands so that +they rested on her shoulders. He gazed down into her face with eyes +filled with a joy and triumph unspeakable. And he spoke out of the +buoyant strength of his heart, which was full to overflowing. + +"Because, more than ever I need to go--now. Say, my dear, there's +folks who've hurt you in this world. They've hurt you sore. I'm going +to locate 'em up here, and down at Leaping Horse. And when I've +located them they're going to pay. Do you get what that means? No. +You can't. Your gentle heart can't get it all, when men set out to +make folk who've hurt women-folk bad pay for their doings. And I'm +glad. I know. And, by God, the folk who've hurt you are going to pay +good. They're going to pay--me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE OUT-WORLD + +Awe was the dominating emotion. Wonder looked out of eyes that have +long become accustomed to the crude marvels of nature to be found in +the northland. The men of Kars' expedition were gazing down upon the +savage splendor of the Promised Land. + +But the milk and honey were lacking. The dream of peace, of delight +was not in these men. Their Promised Land must hold something more +substantial than the mere comforts of the body. That substance they +knew lay there, there ahead of them, but only to be won by supreme +effort against contending forces, human and natural. + +They had halted at the highest point of a great saddle lying between +two snow-crowned hills. Peaks towered mightily above the woodlands +clothing their wide slopes, and shining with alabaster splendor in the +sunlight. + +It was the first glimpse of the torn land of the ominous Bell River +gorge. + +The sight of the gorge made them dizzy. The width, the depth, left an +impression of infinite immensity upon the mind, an overwhelming +hopelessness. Men used to mountain vastness all the days of their +lives were left speechless for moments, while their searching eyes +sought to measure the limits of this long hidden land. + +The mountains beyond, about them. The broken, tumbled earth, yawning +and gaping in every direction. The forests of primordial origin. The +snows which never yield their grip upon their sterile bed. And then +the depths. Those infinite depths, which the human mind can never +regard unmoved. + +The long, toilsome journey lay behind them. The goal lay awaiting the +final desperate assault, with all its traps and hidden dangers. What a +goal to have sought. It was like the dragon-guarded storehouse of the +crudest folk-lore. + +The white men stood apart from their Indian supporters. Kars knew the +scene. He was observing the faces of the men who were gazing upon the +gorge for the first time. They were full of interest. But it was left +to Bill to interpret the general feeling in concrete form. + +"They're reckoning up the chances they've taken 'blind,'" he said. + +Kars laughed. + +"Sure." Then he added: "And none of them are 'squealers.' Chances +'blind,' or any others, need to be taken, or it's a long time living. +It's the thing the northland rubs into the bones." + +"Folks are certainly liable to pass it quicker that way." + +Bill's shrewd eyes twinkled as he read the reckless spirit stirring +behind the lighting eyes of his friend. + +Kars laughed again. It was the buoyant laugh of a man full of the +great spirit of adventure, and whose lust is unshadowed by a single +care. + +"Chances _are_ Life, Bill. All of it. The other? Why, the other's +just making a darn fool of old Prov. And I guess old Prov hates being +made a darn fool of." + +But for all Kars' reckless spirit he possessed the wide sagacity and +vigorous responsibility of a born leader. It was this which inspired +the men he gathered about him. It was this which claimed their +loyalty. It was partly this which made Bill Brudenell willingly +abandon his profitable labors in a rich city for the hardship of a life +at his friend's side. Perhaps the other part was that somewhere under +Bill's hardly acquired philosophy there lurked a spirit in perfect +sympathy with that which actuated the younger man. There was not a day +passed but he deplored to himself the stupendous waste of energy and +time involved. But he equally reveled in outraging his better sense, +and defying the claims of his life in Leaping Horse. + +No less than Kars he reveled in the sight of the battle-field which lay +before them. + +Abe Dodds and Saunders gazed upon it, too. It was their first sight of +it, and their view-points found prompt expression, each in his own way. + +"Say, this place kind o' makes you feel old Dante was a libelous guy +who'd oughter be sent to penitentiary," Abe remarked pensively. "Guess +we'll likely find old whiskers waiting around with his boat when we get +on down to the river. Still, it's consoling to figger up the cost o' +coaling hell north of 'sixty.'" + +An unsmiling nod of agreement came from his companion. + +"Makes me feel I bin soused weeks," he said earnestly. He pointed down +at the forbidding walls enclosing the river. "That's jest mist around +ther', ain't it? It ain't--smoke nor nothin'. An' them hills an' +things. They are hills? They ain't the rim of a darn fool pit that +ain't got bottom to it? An' them folks--movin' around down there. +They are folks? They ain't--things?" + +Both men laughed. But their amusement was wide-eyed and wondering. + +Kars' half military caravan labored its way forward. It made its own +path through virgin woodland breaks, which had known little else than +wild or Indian life since the world began. There were muskegs to +avoid. Broken stretches of tundra, trackless, treacherous. Cruel +traps which only patience, labor, skill and great courage could avoid. +Apart from all chances of hostile welcome the Bell River approaches +claimed all the mental and physical sweat of man. + +The movements of the outfit if slow were sure, and seemingly +inevitable. The days of labor were followed by nights of watchful +anxiety and council. Nature's batteries were against them. But the +lurking human danger was even more serious in the minds of these men. +Nature they knew. They had learned her arts of war, and their counters +were studied, and the outcome of fierce experience. But the other was +new, or, at least, sufficiently new to require the straining of every +nerve to meet it successfully, should it come. They were under no +delusions on the subject. Come it would. How? Where? But more than +all--when? + +For all their skill, for all their well-thought organization, these men +could not hope to escape scathless against the forces of nature opposed +to them. They lost horses in the miry hollows. The surgical skill of +Dr. Bill was frequently needed for the drivers and packmen. There was +a toll of material, too. + +The land seemed scored with narrow chasms, the cause of which was +beyond all imagination. There were cul-de-sacs which possessed no +seeming rhyme or reason. Time and again the advancing scout party, +seeking the better road, found itself trapped in valleys of muskeg with +no other outlet than the way by which it had entered. Wherever the eye +searched, rugged rock facets, with ragged patches of vegetation growing +in the crevices confronted them. It was a maze of desolation, and +magnificent hills and forests of primordial growth. It was as crude +and half complete in the days when the waters first receded. + +But the lure of the precious metal was in every heart. Even Kars lay +under its fascination once more, now that the strenuous goal lay within +sight. He knew it was there, and in great quantities. And, for all +the saner purposes he had in his mind, its influence made itself deeply +felt. + +The gold seeker, be he master or wage earner, is beyond redemption. +Murray McTavish had said that all men north of "sixty" were wage +slaves. He might have included all the world. But the truth of his +assertion was beyond all question. Not a man in the outfit Kars had +organized but was a wage slave, down to the least civilized Indian who +labored under a pack. + +Bodily ease counted for nothing. These men were inured to all +hardship. They were men who had committed themselves to a war against +the elements, a war against all that opposed them in their hunger for +the wage they were determined to tear from the frigid bosom of an earth +which they regarded as the vulture regards carrion. + +The days of labor were long and many. Hardship piled up on hardship, +as it ever does in the spring of the northland. There was no ease for +leader or man. Only labor, unceasing, terrific. + +Kars moved aside from the Bell River Indian encampment. He passed to +the west of it, beyond all sight of the workings he had explored on the +memorable night of his discovery. And he took the gorge from the +north, seeking its heart for his camp, on the wide foreshore beyond the +dumps of pay dirt which had first yielded him their secret. + +It was a movement which precluded all possibility of legitimate +protest. And since this territory was all unscheduled in the +government of the Yukon, it was his for just as long as he could hold +it. The whole situation was treated as though no other white influence +were at work. It was treated as a peaceful invasion of Indian +territory, and, as is usual in such circumstances, the Indian was +ignored. It was an illustration of white domination. In Bill +Brudenell's words "they were throwing a big bluff." + +But for all their ignoring of the Indians, the outfit was under the +closest observation. There was not a moment, not a foot of its way, +that was not watched over by eyes that saw, and for the most part +remained unseen. But this invisibility was not always the rule. +Indians in twos and threes were frequently encountered. They were the +undersized northern Indian of low type, who had none of the splendid +manhood of the tribes further south. But each man was armed with a +more or less modern rifle, and garments of crudely manufactured furs +replaced the romantic buckskin of their southern brethren. + +These men came round the camps at night. They foregathered silently, +and watched, with patient interest, the work going on. They offered no +friendship or welcome. They made no attempt to fraternize in any way. +Their unintelligent faces were a complete blank, in so far as they +displayed any understanding of what they beheld. + +The men of the outfit were in nowise deceived. They knew the purpose +of these visits. These creatures were there to learn all that could +serve the purposes of their leaders. They were testing the strength of +these invaders. And they were permitted to prosecute their +investigations without hindrance. It was part of the policy Kars had +decided upon. The "bluff," as Bill had characterized it, was to be +carried through till the enemy "called." + +Two weeks from the day when the gorge had been sighted, the permanent +camp was completely established. Furthermore, the work of the gold +"prospect" had been begun under the fierce energy of Abe Dodds, and the +thirst-haunted Saunders. Theirs it was to explore and test the great +foreshore, and to set up the crude machinery. + +The first day's report was characteristic of the mining engineer. He +returned to his chief, who was organizing the camp with a view to +eventualities. There was a keen glitter in his hollow eyes as he made +his statement. There was a nervous restraint in his whole manner. He +chewed unmercifully as he made his unconventional statement. + +"The whole darn place is full of 'color,'" he said. "Ther' ain't any +sort o' choice anywhere, 'less you set up machinery fer the sake o' the +scenery." + +"Then we'll set up the sluices where we can best protect them," was +Kars' prompt order. + +So the work proceeded with orderly haste. + +Further up the stream the Indians swarmed about their "placers." Their +washings went on uninterruptedly. They, too, were playing a hand, with +doubtless a keen head controlling it. The invasion seemed to trouble +them not one whit. But this steady industry, and aloofness, was ample +warning for the newcomers. It was far more deeply significant than any +prompt display of hostility. + +Kars spared neither himself nor his men. Every soul of his outfit knew +they were passing through the moments immediately preceding the battle +which must be fought out. Each laborious day was succeeded by a night +which concealed possible terrors. Each golden sunrise might yield to +the blood-red sunset of merciless war. And the odds were wide against +them, and could only be bridged by determination and skilful +leadership. Great, however, as the odds were, these men were before +all things gold seekers, all of them, white and colored, and they were +ready to face them, they were ready to face anything in the world for +the golden wage they demanded. + + +It was nearing the end of the first week. The mining operations were +in full swing under the guidance of Abe Dodds and Saunders. Kars and +Bill were left free to regard only the safety of the enterprise, and to +complete the preparations for defence. To this end they were out on an +expedition of investigation. + +Their investigations had taken them across the river directly opposite +the camp. The precipitous walls of the gorge at this point were clad +in dark woods which rose almost from the water's edge. But these woods +were not the only thing which demanded attention. There was a water +inlet to the river hidden amongst their dark aisles. Furthermore, high +up, overlooking the river, a wide ledge stood out from the wall, and +that which had been discovered upon it was not without suspicion in +their minds. + +For some moments after landing Kars stood looking back across the +river. His searching gaze was taking in every detail of the defences +he had set up across the water. When he finally turned it was to +observe the watercourse cascading down a great rift in the walls of the +gorge. + +"Guess this is the weak link, Bill," he said. "It's a way down to the +water's edge. The only way down in a stretch of two miles on this +side. And it's plumb in front of us." + +Bill nodded agreement. + +"Sure. And that queer old shack half-way up. We best make that right +away." + +The canoe was hauled clear of the racing stream, and left secure. Then +they moved up the rocky foreshore where the inlet had cut its way +through the heart of the woods. + +It was a curious, almost cavernous opening. Nor was there a detail of +it that was not water-worn as far up the confining walls of drab rock +as the eyes could see. + +Once within the entrance, however, the scene was completely changed, +and robbed of the general sternness which prevailed outside. It was +not without some charm. + +The split was far greater than had seemed from the distance. It was a +tumbled mass of tremendous boulders, amidst which the forest of +primordial pines found root room where none seemed possible, and craned +their ragged heads towards the light so far above them. And, in the +midst of this confusion, the mountain stream poured down from heights +above, droning out its ceaseless song of movement in a cadence that +seemed wholly out of place amidst such surroundings. + +The whole place was burdened under a semi-twilight, induced by the +crowning foliage so frantically jealous of its rights. Of undergrowth +there was no vestige. Only the deep carpet of cones and pine needles, +which clogged the crevices, and frequently concealed pitfalls for the +steps of those sufficiently unwary. This, and a general saturation +from the spray of the falling waters, left the upward climb something +more than arduous. + +It was nearly an hour later when the two men stood on the narrow +plateau cut in the side of the gorge, and overlooking the great river. +It yielded a perfect view of the vastness of the amazing reach. + +Below them, out of the solid walls, wherever root-hold offered, the +lean pines thrust their crests to a level with them. Above, where the +slope of the gorge fell back at an easier angle, black forests covered +the whole face for hundreds of feet towards the cloud-flecked skies. + +These men, however, were all unconcerned with the depths or the +heights, for all their dizzy splendor. A habitation stood before them +sheltered by a burnt and tumbled stockade. And to practical +imagination it held a significance which might have deep enough meaning. + +They stood contemplating the litter for some moments. And in those +moments it told them a story of attack and defence, and finally of +defeat. The disaster to the defenders was clearly told, and the +question in both their minds was the identity of those defeated. + +John Kars approached the charred pile where it formed the least +obstruction, and his eyes searched the staunch but dilapidated shack, +with its flat roof. Battered, it still stood intact, hard set against +the slope of the hill. Its green log walls were barkless. They were +weather-worn to a degree that suggested many, many years and cruel +seasons. But its habitable qualities were clearly apparent. + +Bill Brudenell was searching in closer detail. It was the difference +between the two men. It was the essential difference in their +qualities of mind. He was the first to break the silence between them. + +"Get a look," he said abruptly. "There! There! And there! All over +the darn old face of it. Bullet holes. Hundreds of them. And +seemingly from every direction. Say, it must have been a beautiful +scrap." + +"And the defenders got licked--poor devils." + +Kars was pointing down at the strewn bones lying amongst the fallen +logs. Beyond them, inside the boundary of the stockade lay a skull, a +human skull, as clean and whitened as though centuries had passed since +it lost contact with the frame which had supported it. + +Bill moved to it. His examination was close and professional. + +"Indian," he said at last, and laid it back on the ground with almost +reverent care. + +He turned his eyes upon the shanty once more. Two other piles of human +bones, picked as clean as carrion birds could leave them, passed under +his scrutiny, but he was no longer concerned with them. The hut +absorbed his whole interest now, and he moved towards its open doorway +with Kars at his heels. They passed within. + +As their eyes grew accustomed to the indifferent light, more of the +story of the place was set out for their reading. There were some +ammunition boxes. There were odds and ends of camp truck. But nothing +of any value remained, and the fact suggested, in combination with the +other signs, the looting of a victorious foe. + +Kars was the first to offer comment. + +"Do you guess it's possible----?" + +"Allan held this shack?" Bill nodded. "These are all white men signs. +Those ammunition boxes. They're the same as we've loaded up at the +Fort many times. Sure. Allan held this shack, but he didn't die here. +Murray found what was left of him down below, way down the river. +Maybe he held this till his stores got low. Then he made a dash for +it, and--found it. It makes me sick thinking. Let's get out." + +He turned away to the door and Kars followed him. + +Kars had nothing to add. The picture of that hopeless fight left him +without desire to investigate further. It was almost the last fight of +the man who had made the happiness he now contemplated possible. His +heart bled for the girl who he knew had well-nigh worshiped her "daddy." + +But Bill did not pass the doorway. At that moment the sharp crack of a +rifle split the air, and set the echoes of the gorge screaming. A +second later there was the vicious "spat" of a bullet on the sorely +tried logs of the shack. He stepped back under cover. But not before +a second shot rang out, and another bullet struck, and ricochetted, +hurtling through the air to lose itself in the pine woods above him. + +"The play's started," was his undisturbed comment. + +Kars nodded and his eyes lit. The emotions of the moment before had +fallen from him. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "Now for Mister Louis Creal." + +Bill turned, and his twinkling eyes were thoughtful as they regarded +his friend. + +"Ye-es." + +But Kars was paying small attention. His eyes were shining with a +light such as is only seen in those who contemplate the things their +heart is set upon. In his mind there was no doubt, only conviction. + +"We're not fighting those poor, darn-fool neches who fired those +shots," he cried in a sudden break from his usual reticence. "Maybe +they're the force but they aren't the brain. The brain behind this +play is Mister Louis Creal. Say, this thing's bigger than we guessed. +This Louis Creal runs these workings. Guess he's been running them +since the beginning. He's been running them in some sort of +partnership with the men at the Fort. He was Allan's partner, if I'm +wise to anything. He was Allan's partner and Murray's. And Allan was +murdered right here. He was murdered by these poor darn neches. And +the brain behind them was Louis Creal's. Do you get it now? Oh, it's +easy. That half-breed's turned, as they always turn when it suits +them. He's turned on his partners. And Murray knows it. That's why +Murray's got in his arms. It's clear as daylight. There's a +three-cornered scrap coming. Murray's going to clean out this outfit, +or lose his grip on the gold lying on this river for the picking up. +And Murray don't figger to lose a thing without a mighty big kick--and +not gold anyway. This feller, Creal, located us, and figgers to wipe +us off his slate. See? Say, Bill, I guessed long ago Bell River was +going to hand us some secrets. I guessed it would tell us how Allan +Mowbray died. Well, Louis Creal's going to pay. He's going to pay +good. Murray's wise. Gee, I can't but admire. Another feller would +have shouted. Another feller would have told the womenfolk all he +discovered when he found Allan Mowbray murdered. Can't you get his +play? He was Allan's friend. He kind of hoped to marry Jessie--some +day. He worked the whole thing out. He guessed he'd scare Mrs. +Mowbray and Jessie to death if he told them all that had happened. He +didn't want them scared, or they might quit the place. So he just +blamed the neches, and let if go at that. He handled the proposition +himself. There was Alec. He didn't guess it would be good Alec +butting in. Alec, for all he's Jessie's brother, wasn't bright. He +might get killed even. He'd be in the way--anyway. So he got him +clear of the Fort. Then he got a free hand. He shipped in an arsenal +of weapons, and he's going to outfit a big force. He's coming along up +here later, and it'll be him and Creal to the death. And it's odds on +Murray. Then the folk at the Fort can help themselves all they need, +and the world won't be any the wiser. It's a great play. But Alec's +death has queered it some. Do you get it--all? It's clear--clear as +daylight." + +"Ye-es." Again came that hesitating affirmative. But then Bill was +older, and perhaps less impressionable. + +Again Kars missed the hesitation. + +"Good," he said. "Now we'll get busy. Maybe we'll save Murray a deal +of trouble. He'd got me worried. I was half guessing----" He broke +off and sighed as though in relief. "But I've got it clear enough now. +And Louis Creal'll have to reckon with me first. We'll make back to +camp." + +Bill offered no comment. He watched the great figure of his companion +move towards the door. Nor was the nerve of the man without deep +effect upon him. Kars passed out on to the open plateau and instantly +a rain of bullets spat their vicious purpose all about him. Even as +Bill stepped out after him his feelings were absorbed in his admiration +of the other. + +The shots continued. They all came from the same direction, from the +woods across the river, somewhere just above their camp. It was Indian +firing. Its character was unmistakable. It was erratic, and many of +the shots failed hopelessly to reach the plateau at all. + +The movements of the two men were rapid without haste, and, as they +left the plateau, the firing ceased. + + +An hour later they were walking up the foreshore to their camp, and the +canoe was hauled up out of the water. The sluices were in full work +under the watchful eye of Abe Dodds. The thirsty Saunders was driving +his gang at the placers, from which was being drawn a stream of pay +dirt that never ceased from daylight to dark. They had heard the +firing, as had the whole camp, and they had wondered. But for the +present their responsibility remained with their labors. The safe +return of Kars and his companion nevertheless afforded keen +satisfaction. + +Bill smiled as they moved up towards their quarters. Curiously enough +the recent events seemed to have lightened his mood. Perhaps it was +the passing of a period of doubt. Perhaps the reconstruction of +Murray's doings, which Kars had set out so clearly, had had its effect. +It was impossible to say, for his shrewd eyes rarely told more than he +intended them to. + +"Makes you feel good when the other feller starts right in to play his +'hand,'" he said. + +Kars looked into the smiling face. He recognized in this man, whose +profession should have robbed him of all the elemental attributes, and +whose years should have suggested a desire for the ease of a successful +life, a real fighter of the long trail, and his heart warmed. + +"Makes you feel better when you know none of your 'suits' are weak," he +replied. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE DEPUTATION + +Kars was asleep. He was in the deep slumber of complete weariness in +the shanty which had been erected for his quarters, and was shared by +Bill. The bed was a mere pile of blankets spread out on a rough log +trestle which sufficiently raised it from the ground. + +It was a mean enough habitation. But it was substantial. Furthermore, +it was weather-proof, which was all these men required. Then, too, it +was set up in a position on the higher ground whence it overlooked the +whole camp, with a full view of the sluices, and the operations going +on about them. Adjacent were the stores, and the kitchens, all +sheltered by projections of the rocky foreshore, so that substantial +cover against hostile attack was afforded them. + +While Kars slept the defensive preparations he had designed were being +carried out feverishly under the watchful eyes of Bill and Abe Dodds, +with Joe Saunders a vigorous lieutenant. He had planned for every +possible emergency. Embankments of pay dirt were erected and +strengthened by green logs. Loopholes were arranged for concentrated +defence in any one direction. The water supply was there open to them, +direct from the river, which, in its turn, afforded them a safeguard +from a purely frontal attack. The Bell River Indians were no great +water men, so the chief defences were set up flanking along the shore. + +Kars had spent a day and two nights in unceasing labor, and now, at +last, the claims of nature would no longer be denied. He had fallen +asleep literally at his work. So the watchful doctor had accepted the +responsibility. And the great body was left to the repose which made +so small a claim upon it. + +There was no man who could fight harder than John Kars, there was no +man who could fight more intelligently. Just as no man could fight +fairer. He accepted all conditions as he found them, and met them as +necessity demanded. But all that was rugged in him remained untainted +through the years of his sojourn beyond the laws of civilization. +There were a hundred ways by which he could have hoped to survive. But +only one suited his temperament. Then he had closed the doors of +civilization behind him. He had metaphorically burnt his text-books, +if he ever really possessed any. He viewed nothing through the +pleasantly tinted glasses such as prevail where cities are swept and +garnished daily, and bodily comfort is counted more to be desired than +God-fear. He forgot that law and order must be paid for by a yearly +toll in currency. But he never failed to remember that a temple had +been raised in the human heart, erected firmly on the ashes of savagery. + +"Now for Mister Louis Creal!" + +It was the situation as he saw it. He by no means underrated the +threat of the Indians. But he drove straight to the root of the +matter. He believed the Indians had been bought body and soul by this +bastard white for his own ends. And his own end was the gold of Bell +River. It was his purpose to destroy all competition. He had murdered +one partner, or perhaps employer. He hoped, no doubt, to treat the +other white man similarly. Now he meant a similar mischief by this new +threat to his monopoly. Kars felt it was characteristic of the bastard +races. Well, he was ready for the fight. He had sought it. + +With that first enemy attempt on the plateau events moved rapidly. + +But they so moved on Kars' initiative. It was not his way to sit down +at the enemy's pleasure. His was the responsibility for the eighty men +who had responded to his call. He accepted it. He knew it would +demand every ounce of courage and energy he could put forth. His wits +were to be pitted against wits no less. The fate of Allan Mowbray, a +man far beyond the average in courage and capacity among men of the +long trail, told him this. So he had worked, and would work, to the +end. + +"The play's started good, boys," he had said to his white companions on +his return to the camp. "The gold can wait, I guess, till we've wiped +out this half-breed outfit. It's a game I know good, an' I'm going to +play it for a mighty big 'jack-pot.' It's up to you to hand me all I +need. After that the gold's open to all." + +Then he detailed the various preparations to be made at once, and +allotted to each man his task. He spoke sharply but without urgency. +And the simplicity of his ideas saved the least confusion. It was only +to Bill that his plans seemed hardly to fit with that cordial +appreciation which he had given expression to on the plateau. "Now for +Mister Louis Creal." So he had said. Yet all the plans were defensive +rather than offensive. + +Later this doubt found expression. + +"What about Louis Creal?" Bill asked in his direct fashion. + +And Kars' reply was a short, hard laugh. + +"That feller's for me," he replied shortly. + +That night a second trip was made across the river. This time with a +canoe laden with a small party of armed men. It was Kars who led, +while Bill remained behind in command of the camp. + +This mission was one of remorseless purpose. It was perhaps the most +difficult decision that Kars had had to force himself to. It hurt him. +It was a decision for the destruction of the things he loved. To him +it was like an assault against the great ruling powers of the Creator, +and the sin of it left him troubled in heart and conscience. Yet he +knew the necessity of it. None better. So he executed it, as he would +have executed any other operation necessary in loyalty to the men +supporting him and his purpose. + +It was midnight when the paddles dipped again for the return to the +camp, and the return journey was made under a light which had no origin +in any of the heavenly bodies, nor in the fantastic measure danced by +the brilliant northern lights. It was the blaze of a forest fire which +lit the gorge from end to end, and filled the air with a ruddy fog of +smoke, which reeked in the nostrils and set throats choking. + +It had been deliberately planned. The wind was favorable for safety +and success. It was blowing gently from the west. The fire was +started in six places, and the resinous pines which had withstood +centuries of storms yielded to the devouring flames with an ardent +willingness that was pitiful. The forests crowning the opposite walls +of the gorge were a desperate threat to the camp. They had to be made +useless to the enemy. They must be swept away, and to accomplish this +fire was the only means. + +Kars watched the dreadful devastation from the camp. His eyes were +thoughtful, troubled. He was paying the price which his desire for +achievement required. + +The dark of night was swept away by a furnace of flame. The waters of +the river reflected the glare, till they took on a suggestion of liquid +fire. The gloom of the gorge had passed, and left it a raging furnace, +and the fierceness of the heat beaded men's foreheads as they stood at +a distance with eyes filled with awe. + +Where would it end? A forest fire in a land of little else but forest +and waste. It was a question Kars dared not contemplate. So he thrust +it aside. And herein lay the difference between Bill Brudenell and +himself. Bill could contemplate the destruction from its necessity, +while a sort of sentimental terror claimed his imagination and forced +this question upon him. He felt that only the wind and Providence +could answer it. If the links were there, beyond those frowning +crests, between forest and forest, and the wind drifted favorably, the +fire might burn for years. It would be impossible to say where the +last sparks would burn themselves out. It was another of the tragedies +to be set at the door of man's quest of gold. + +"Makes you feel Nature's score against man's mounting big," he said, in +a tone there could be no mistaking. "Seems that's going to hurt her +mighty bad. She'll hit back one day. Centuries it's taken her +building that way. She's nursed it in the hollows, and made it strong +on the hills. She's made it good, and set it out for man's use. And +man's destroyed her work because he's got a hide he guesses to keep +whole. It's all a fearful contradiction. There doesn't seem much +sense to life anyway. And still the scheme goes right on, and I don't +guess a single blamed purpose is lost. Gee, I hate it." + +The truth of Bill's words struck home on Kars. But he had no reply. +He hated it, too. + +The roar of flame went on all night. The boom of falling trees. The +splitting and rending. The heat was sickening. Those who sought sleep +lay bare to the night air, for blankets were beyond endurance. Then +the smoke which clung to the open jaws of the gorge. The night breeze +seemed powerless to carry it away. + +With the outbreak of fire the Indian workings further up the river +awoke, too. A few stray figures foregathered at the water's edge. +Their numbers were quickly augmented. Long before the night was spent +a great crowd was watching the fierce destruction of the haunts which +it had known for generations. Fire is the Indian terror. And in the +heart of these benighted creatures a superstitious awe of it remains at +all times. Now they were panic-stricken. + +Towards morning the fire passed out of the gorge. It swept over the +crests of the enclosing hills and passed on, nursed by the fanning of +the western breeze. And as it passed away, and the booming and roaring +became more and more distant, so did the smoke-laden atmosphere begin +to clear. But a tropical heat remained behind for many hours. Even +the northland chill of spring failed to temper it rapidly. + +Kars had achieved his purpose. No cover remained for any lurking foe. +The hills across the river were "snatched" bald. Charred and +smoldering timbers lay sprawling in every direction upon the red-hot +carpet. Blackened stumps stood up, tombstones of the splendid woods +that once had been. There was no cover anywhere. None at all. No +lurking rifle could find a screen from behind which to pour death upon +the busy camp across the waters. The position was reversed. The +watchful defenders held the whole of those bald walls at the mercy of +their rifles. It was a strategic victory for the defenders, but it had +been purchased at a terrible cost. + +Kars' dreamless slumber was broken at last by the sharp voice of Bill +Brudenell, and the firm grip of a hand upon his shoulder. He awoke on +the instant, his mind alert, clear, reasoning. He had slept for ten +hours and all sense of fatigue had passed. + +"Say, I've slept good," was his first exclamation, as he sat up on his +blankets. Then his alert eyes glanced swiftly into the face before +him. "What's the time? And what's--doing?" + +"It's gone midday. And--there's visitors calling." + +Kars' attitude was one of intentness. + +"They started attacking?" he demanded. "I don't hear a thing." + +He rose from his bed, moved down to the doorway and stood gazing out. +His gaze encountered a group of men clustered together at a short +distance from the hut. He recognized Peigan Charley. He recognized +Abe Dodds, lean and silent. He recognized one or two of his own +fighting men. But there were others he did not recognize. And one of +them was an old, old weazened up Indian of small stature and squalid +appearance. + +"Visitors?" he said, without turning. + +Bill came up behind him. + +"A deputation," he said. "An old chief and three young men. They've +got a neche with them who talks 'white.' And they're not going to quit +till they've held a big pow-wow with the white chief, Kars. They've +got his name good. I'd say Louis Creal's got them well primed." + +"Yes." + +Kars glanced round the hut. And a half smile lit his eyes at the +meagre condition of the place. Bill's bed occupied one side of it. +His own the other. Between the two stood a packing case on end, which +served as a table. A bucket of drinking water stood in a corner with a +beaker beside it. For the rest there was a kit bag for a pillow at the +head of each bed, while underneath were ammunition cases filled with +rifle and revolver ammunition, and the walls were decorated with a +whole arsenal of weapons. But it lost nothing in its businesslike +aspect, and Kars felt that its impression would not be lost upon his +visitors. + +"The council chamber," he said. "Have 'em come right along, Bill. +Maybe they're going to hand us Louis Creal's bluff. Well, I guess +we're calling any old bluff. If they're looking for what they can +locate of our preparations they'll find all they need. They'll get an +elegant tale to hand Louis Creal when they get back." + +Five minutes later the capacity of the hut was taxed to its utmost. +Kars was seated on the side of his bed. Bill and Abe Dodds occupied +the other. The earth floor, from the foot of the bunks to the door, +was littered by a group of squatting figures clad in buckskin and +cotton blanket, and exhaling an aroma without which no Indian council +chamber is complete, and which is as offensive as it is pungent. +Peigan Charley, the contemptuous, blocked up the doorway ready at a +moment's notice to carry out any orders his "boss" might choose to give +him, and living in the hopes that such orders, when they came, might at +least demand violence towards these "damn neches" who had dared to +invade the camp. + +But his hopes were destined to remain unfulfilled. His boss was +talking easily, and in a friendliness which disgusted his retainer. He +seemed to be even deferring to this aged scallawag of a chief, as +though he were some one of importance. That was one of Charley's +greatest grievances against his chief. He was always too easy with +"damn-fool neches." Charley felt that these miserable creatures should +be "all shot up dead." Worse would come if these "coyotes" were +allowed to go free. There was no such thing as murder in his mind as +regards his own race. Only killing--which was, at all times, not only +justifiable, but a necessity. + +"The great Chief Thunder-Cloud is very welcome," Kars responded to the +interpreter's translation of the introduction. "Guess he's the big +chief of Bell River. The wise man of his people. And I'm sure he's +come right along to talk--in the interests of peace. Good. We're +right here for peace, too. Maybe Thunder-Cloud's had a look at the +camp as he came in. It's a peaceful camp, just set right here to chase +gold. No doubt his people, who've been around since we came, have told +him that way, too." + +As the white man's words were translated to him, the old Indian blinked +his inflamed eyes, from which the lids and under-lids seemed to be +falling away as a result of his extreme age. He wagged his head gently +as though fearful of too great effort, and his sagging lips made a +movement suggesting an approving expression, but failed physically to +carry out his intent. + +Bill was studying that senile, expressionless face. The skin hung +loose and was scored with creases like crumpled parchment. The low +forehead so deeply furrowed. The small eyes so offensive in their +inflamed condition. The almost toothless jaws which the lips refused +to cover. It was a hateful presence with nothing of the noble red man +about it. It was with relief he turned to the younger examples of what +this man had once been. + +But the chief was talking in that staccato, querulous fashion of old +age, and his white audience was waiting for the interpreter. + +It was a long time before the result came. When it did it was in the +scantiest of pigeon English. + +"Him much pleased with white man coming," said the interpreter with +visible effort at cordiality. "The great Chief Thunder-Cloud much good +friend to white man. Much good friend. Him say young men fierce--very +fierce. They fish plenty. They say white man come--no fish. White +man come, Indian man mak' much hungry. No fish. White man eat 'em all +up. Young man mak' much talk--very fierce. Young man say white man +burn up land. Indians no hunt. So. Indian man starve. Indian come. +Young men kill 'em all up dead. Or Indian man starve. So. White man +come, Indian man starve, too. White man go, Indian man eat plenty. +White man go?" + +The solemn eyes of the Indians were watching the white man's face with +expressionless intensity. They were striving to read where their +language failed them. Kars gave no sign. His eyes were steadily +regarding the wreck of humanity described as a "great chief." + +"White man burn the land because neche try to kill white man," he said +after a moment's consideration, in level, unemotional tones. "White +man come in peace. He want no fish. He want no hunt. He want only +gold--and peace. White man not go. White man stay. If Indian kill, +white man kill, too. White man kill up all Indian, if Indian kill +white man. Louis Creal sit by his teepee. He say white man come Louis +Creal not get gold. He say to Indian go kill up white man. White man +great friends with Indian. He good friend with Louis Creal, if Louis +Creal lies low. Indian man very fierce. White man very fierce, too. +If great Chief Thunder-Cloud not hold young men, then he soon find out. +Louis Creal, too. Much war come. Much blood. White man make most +killing. So." + +He waited while his reply was passed on to the decrepit creature, who, +for all his age and physical disability, was complete master of his +emotions. Thunder-Cloud listened and gave no sign. + +Then he spoke again. This time his talk was briefer and the +interpreter's task seemed easier. + +"Great Chief say him sorry for white man talk. Him come. Him good +friend to white man. Him old. Him very old. White man not go. Then +him say him finish. Him mak' wise talk to young men. Young men +listen. No good. Young men impatient. Young men say speak white man. +Speak plenty. Him not go? Then young man kill 'em all dead. So. +Thunder-Cloud sorry. Heap sorry." + +A shadowy smile flitted across Kars' rugged face. It found a +reflection in the faces of all his comrades. Even Charley's contempt +found a similar expression. + +Kars abruptly stood up. His great size brought him within inches of +the low, flat roof. His eyes had suddenly hardened. His strong jaws +were set. He no longer addressed himself to the aged chief. His eyes +were directed squarely into the eyes of the mean-looking interpreter. +Nor did he use any pigeon English to express himself now. + +"See right here, you neche," he cried, his tones strong, and full of +restrained force. "You can hand this on to that darn old bunch of +garbage you call a great chief. The play Louis Creal figgers on is +played right out. He murdered Allan Mowbray to keep this gold to +himself. Well, this gold ain't his, any more than it's mine. It's for +those who got the grit to take it. If he's looking for fight he's +going to get it plenty--maybe more than he's needing. We're taking no +chances. We're right here to fight--if need be. We're here to stop. +We're no quitters. We'll go when we fancy, and when we do the news of +this strike goes with us. Louis Creal tried to murder me here, and +failed, and took a bath instead. Well, if he's hoss sense he'll get it +his game's played. If he don't see it that way, he best do all he +knows. You an' this darn old scallawag have got just five minutes to +hit the trail clear of this camp. The whole outfit of you. Guess you +wouldn't get that much time only for the age of this bunch of the +tailings of a misspent life. Clear. Clear quick--the whole darn +outfit." + +All the dignity and formality of an Indian pow-wow were banished in a +moment. The interpreter conveyed the briefest gist of the white man's +words, even as he hastily scrambled to his feet. Kars' tone and manner +had impressed him as forcibly as his words. He was eager enough to get +away. The old man, too, was on his feet far quicker than might have +been expected, and he was making for the door with ludicrous haste, +which robbed his going of any of the ceremony with which he had entered +it. + +Charley stood aside, but with an air of protest. He would willingly +have robbed the old man of his last remaining locks. + +The hut was cleared, and the white men emerged into the open. The air +which still reeked of burning was preferable to the unwholesome stench +which these bestial northern Indians exhaled. + +They stood watching the precipitate retreat of their visitors. The +whole camp was agog, and looked on curiously. Even the Indian packmen +were stirred out of their usual indifference to things beyond their +labors. + +Bill laughed as the old man vanished beyond the piles of pay dirt, +which had been converted into defences. + +"Guess he's worried some," he said. + +Abe Dodds chewed and spat. + +"Worried? Gee, that don't say a thing--not a thing. Guess that old +guy ain't had a shake up like that since he first choked himself with +gravel when his momma wa'n't around. I allow Louis Creal, whoever he +is, is going to get an earful that'll nigh bust his drums." + +But Kars had no responsive smile. + +"They'll be on us by nightfall," he said quietly. "We need to get +busy." Then he suddenly called out. His voice was stern and +threatening. "Quit that, Charley! Quit it or by----!" + +His order came in the nick of time. All the pent-up spleen and hatred +of Peigan Charley had culminated in an irresistible desire. He had +seized a rifle from one of the camp Indians standing by, and had flung +himself on the banked up defences. Even as his boss shouted, his eye +was running over the sights, and his finger was on the trigger. + +He flung the weapon aside with a gesture of fierce disgust, and stood +scowling after the hurrying deputation, his heart tortured with the +injustice of his chief in robbing him of the joy of sheer murder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER + +The dark of night was creeping up the gorge. A gray sky, still heavy +with the smoke of the forest fire, made its progress easy and rapid. +The black walls nursed its efforts, yielding their influence upon the +deep valley below them. No star could penetrate the upper cloud banks. +The new-born moon was lost beyond the earth-inspired canopy. + +The fires of the great camp were out. No light was visible anywhere. +The fighting men were at their posts on the flanking embankments. +Reserves were gathered, smoking and talking in the hush of expectancy. +Further afield an outpost held the entrance to the gorge to the north +of the camp. A steep rugged split deeply wooded and dropping sharply +from the heights above to the great foreshore. It was an admirable +point to hold. No living soul could approach the camp from above that +way without running the gauntlet of the ambushed rifles in skilful +hands. No rush could make the passage, only costly effort. Nature had +seen to that. + +The white men leaders of the camp were squatting about the doorway of +the shanty which had witnessed the brief interview with the chief, +Thunder-Cloud. Kars occupied the sill of the doorway. His great body +in its thick pea-jacket nearly filled it up. Talk was spasmodic. Kars +had little enough inclination, and the others seemed to have exhausted +thought upon the work of preparations. + +Kars' thoughts were far away at the bald knoll of Fort Mowbray, and the +little Mission nestling at its foot. Out of the gray shadows of +twilight a pair of soft eyes were gazing pitifully into his, as he had +seen them gaze in actual life. His mind was passing over the tragic +incidents which had swept down upon that ruddy brown head with such +merciless force, and a tender pity made him shrink before his thought, +as no trouble of his own could have done. + +The moment was perhaps the moment for such feeling. It was the moment +preceding battle. It was the moment when each man realized that a +thousand chances were crowding. When the uncertainties of the future +were so many and so deeply hidden. Resolve alone was definite. Life +and purpose were theirs to-day. To-morrow? Who could say of tomorrow? +So it was that the mind groped back amongst memories which had the +greatest appeal. For Kars all his memories were now centred round the +home of the girl who had taught him the real meaning of life. + +Bill Brudenell was sitting on a rough log, within a yard or two. He, +too, was gazing out into the approaching night while he smoked on in +meditative silence. His keen face and usually twinkling eyes were +serious. He had small enough claims behind him. There was no woman in +his life to hold his intimate regard. The present was his, and the +future. The future had his life's work of healing in it. The present +held his friend, beside whom he was ranged in perfect loyalty against +the work of desperate men. + +His purpose? Perhaps he would have found it difficult to explain. +Perhaps he could not have explained at all. His was a nature that +demanded more than a life of healing could give him. There was the +ceaseless call of the original man in him. It was a call so insistent +that it must be obeyed, even while his mental attitude spurned the +folly of it. + +Abe Dodds was propped on an upturned bucket with his lean shoulders +squared against the log walls of the shanty. His jaw was moving +rhythmically as he chewed with nervous energy. The difference in him +from the others was the difference of a calculating mind always working +out the sum of life from a purely worldly side. He knew the values of +the Bell River strike to an ounce. It was his business to know. And +he was ready to pass through any furnace, human or hellish, to seize +the fortune which he knew was literally at his feet. There was neither +sentiment nor feeling in his regard of that which was yet to come. +This was the great opportunity. He had lived and struggled north of +"sixty" for this moment. He was ready to die if necessary for the +achievement of all it meant. + +The men sat on, each wrapped in his own mood as the pall of night +unfolded itself. The last word had been given to those at the +defences, and it had been full and complete. Joe Saunders held the +pass down from above. It had been at his own definite request. But +the moment attack came he would be supported by one of these three. It +was for this reason that he was absent from the final vigil of his +fellow leaders. + +It was Abe who finally broke the prolonged silence. He broke it upon +indifferent ears. But then he had not the same mood for silence. + +"There's every sort of old chance lying around," he observed, as though +following out his own long train of thought. "But I don't guess many +of 'em's worth while. There's fellers 'ud hand over any sense they +ever collected fer the dame that's had savvee to buy a fi' cent +perfume. 'Tain't my way. There's jest one chance for me. It's the +big boodle. I'm all in for that. Right up to my ear-drums." He +laughed and spat. "There's a mighty big world to buy, an' when you got +your fencing set up around it, why, there ain't a deal left outside +that's worth corrallin'. I'd say it's only the folk who fancy the +foolish house need to try an' buy a big pot on a pair o' deuces. If +you stand on a 'royal' you can grab most anything. I got this thing +figgered to a cent. When we're through there's those among us going to +make home with a million dollars--cold." + +"Ye-es." + +Dr. Bill removed his pipe. His gaze was turned on the engineer, whose +vigorous mind was searching only one side of the task before them. The +side which appealed to him most. + +"That million don't worry me a cent," he went on. "If life's just a +matter of buying and selling you're li'ble to get sick of it quick." + +Abe's eyes shot a swift glance in the doctor's direction. + +"Then what brings you up to Bell River?" he exclaimed. "It ain't a +circumstance as a health resort." + +Bill smiled down at his pipe. + +"Much the same as you, I guess," he said. "Say, you're talking +dollars. You're figgering dollars. You've got a nightmare of all you +can buy with those dollars." He shook his head. "Turn over. Maybe +that way you'd see things the way they are with you. Those dollars are +just a symbol. You fix your eye on them. It isn't winning the 'pot' +with a 'royal.' It isn't winning anyway. It's the play that gets you. +If you could walk right into the office of the president of a state +bank, and come out of it with a roll of a million, with no more effort +than it needed pushing one foot in front of another, guess you'd as +soon light your two dollar cigar with a hundred dollar bill as a +'Frisco stinker. I've seen a heap of boys like you, Abe. I've seen +them sweat, and cuss, and work like a beaver for a wage, and they've +been as happy as a doped Chinaman. I've seen them later, when the +dollars come plenty, and they're so sick there isn't dope enough in +Leaping Horse can make them feel good. Guess I'm right here because +it's good to live, and fight, and work, same as man was meant to. The +other don't cut much ice, unless it is the work's made things +better--someways." + +Abe spat out his chew and sat up. His combative spirit, which was +perhaps his chief characteristic, was easily stirred. + +"It ain't stuff of that sort made John Kars the richest guy in Leaping +Horse. It ain't that play set him doping around 'inside' where there +ain't much else but cold, and skitters, and gold. It ain't that play +set him crazy to make Bell River with an outfit to lick a bunch of +scallawag neches. No, sir. He's wise to the value of dollars in a +world where there's nothing much else counts. There ain't no joy to +life without 'em. An' you just can't live life without joy. If you're +fixed that way, why, you'll hit the trail of the long haired crank, or +join the folk who make a pastime of a penitentiary. The dollars for +mine. If they come on a cushion of down I'll handle 'em elegant with +kid gloves on my hands. I'm sick chasin'--sick to death." + +Kars became caught in the interest of the talk. His dream picture +faded in the shades of night, and the reality of things about him +poured in upon him. He caught at the thread of discussion in his +eager, forceful way. + +"You ain't right, Abe, and Bill, here, too, is wrong," he said, in his +amiably decided fashion. "Human life's just one great big darn foolish +'want.' It's the wage we're asking for all we do. Don't make any +Sunday-school mistake. We're asking pay for every act we play, and the +purse of old Prov is open most all the time. We all got a grouch set +up against life. Most of us know it. Some don't. If I know anything +of human nature we'd all squat around waiting till the end, doping our +senses without restraining the appetite Nature gave us, if it wasn't +for that blamed wage we're always yearning after. It's the law we've +got to work, and Prov sets the notion in us we want something as the +only way to keep our noses to the grinding mill. Those dollars ain't +the end of your want. They're just a kind of symbol, as Bill +says--till you've got 'em. After that you'll still be yearning for the +big opportunity same as you've been right along up to now. It's just +the symbol'll be diff'rent. You'll work, and cuss, and sweat, and +fight, just the same as you're ready to do now. You'll still be biting +the heels of old Prov for more. And Prov'll dope it out when you've +worked plenty, and He figgers you've earned your wage. Bill's here on +the same argument. He's got the dollars he needs, but he's still +chasing that wage. Maybe his wage is diff'rent from yours or mine. +Y'see he's quite a piece older. But he's worrying old Prov just as +hard. Bill's here because his notions of things lie along the line of +doping out healing to the poor darn fools who haven't the sense to keep +themselves whole. It don't matter who's going to be better for his +work on this layout. But when he's through, why, he'll open out his +hands to old Prov, and Prov'll dope out his wage. And that wage'll +come to him plenty when he sets around smoking his foul old pipe over a +stove, and thinks back--all to himself." + +He smiled with a curious twisted sort of smile as he gazed almost +affectionately at the loyal little man of medicine. Then he turned +again to the night which now hid the last outlines of the stern old +gorge, as he went on. + +"As for me the dollars in this gorge couldn't raise a shadow of joy." +He shook his head. "And if I told you the wage I'm asking, maybe you'd +laff till your sides split up. I'm not telling you the wage old +Prov'll have to hand out my way. But to me it's big. So big your +million dollars couldn't buy a hundredth part of it. No, sir. Nor a +thousandth. And maybe when Prov has checked my time sheet, and handed +out, He won't be through by a sight. I'll still be yepping at His +heels for more, only the--symbol'll kind of be changed. Meanwhile----" + +He broke off listening. Abe started to his feet. Bill deliberately +knocked out his pipe on the log, while his eyes were turned along the +foreshore in the direction of the Indian workings. Kars heaved himself +to his feet and stood with his keen eyes striving to penetrate the +darkness in the same direction. + +"--We're going to start right in earning that wage--now!" + +A hot rifle fire swept over the camp with reckless disregard of all +aim. It came with a sharp rattle. The bullets swept on with a biting +hiss, and some of them terminated their careers with a vicious "splat" +against the great overhang of rock or the woodwork of the trestle-built +sluices. + +In an instant the deadly calm of the night was gone, swept away by the +sound of many voices, and the rush of feet, and the answering fire of +the defenders. + +The battle of Bell River had begun. The white men had staked their all +in the great play, confident they held the winning hand. The +alternative from complete victory for them had one hard, definite +meaning. There was no help but that which lay in their own hands, +their own wits. Death, only, was on the reverse of the victory they +were claiming from Providence. + +A fierce pandemonium stirred the bowels of the night. The rattle of +musketry with its hundreds of needle-points of flame joined the chorus +of fiercely straining human voices. The black calm of night was rent +to shreds, leaving in its place only the riot of cruel, warring +passions. + +The white men leaders and their men received the onslaught of the +savage horde with the steadfastness of a full understanding of the +meaning of defeat. They were braced for the shock with the nerve of +men who have bitterly learned the secret of survival in a land haunted +with terror. No heart-quail showed in the wall of resistance. The +secret emotions had no power before the realization of the horror which +must follow on defeat. The shadow of mutilation, of torture, of +unspeakable death made brave the surest weakling. + +Many of the defenders were Indian, like the attacking horde, though of +superior race. Some were bastard whites, that most evil thing in human +production in the outlands. A few were white, other than the leaders. +Men belonging to that desperate crew always clinging to the fringe of +human effort, where wealth is won by the lucky turn of the spade. +Reckless creatures who live sunk in the deeps of indulgence of the +senses, and without a shred of the conscience with which they were +born. It was a collection of humanity such as only a man of Kars' +characteristics could have controlled. But for a desperate adventure +it might well have been difficult to find its equal. It was their +mission to fight, generally against the laws of society. But fight was +their mission, and they would fulfil it. + +They were ready braced at their posts, and their leaders were in their +midst. The fierce yelling of advancing Indians was without effect. +They met the onslaught at close quarters with a fire as coldly +calculated as it was merciless. The rush of assault was doubtless +calculated to brush all defence aside in the first attack. But as well +might the Bell River leaders have hoped to spurn ferro concrete from +their path. The method was old. It was tried. It was as old as the +ages since the red man was first permitted to curse the joys of a +beautiful world. It was brave as only the savage mind understands +bravery. But it was as impotent before the defence as the beating of +captive wings against the iron bars of a cage. + +The insensate horde came like the surging tide of driven waters. It +reeled before the flaming weapons like rollers on a breakwater. There +came the swirl and eddy. Then, in desperate defeat, it dropped back to +gather fresh impetus from the volume behind. + +The conflict was shadowy, yet searching eyes outlined without +difficulty the half-naked, undersized forms as they came. There was +nothing wild in the defence. Fire was withheld till the moment of +contact. Then it poured out at pointblank range. + +The carnage of that first onslaught was horrible. But the defenders +suffered only the lightest casualties. They labored under no delusion. +The attack would come again and again in the hope of creating a breach, +and that breach was the thought in each leader's mind. Its prevention +was his sheet anchor of hope. Its realization was his nightmare. + +The tide of men surged once more. It came on under a rain of reckless +fire. The black wings of night were illuminated with a fiery sparkle, +and the smell of battle hung heavily on the still air. Kars shouted +encouragement to his men. + +The response was all he could desire. The Indians surged to the +embankment only to beat vainly, and to fall back decimated. But again +and again they rallied, their temper growing to a pitch of fury that +suggested the limit of human endurance. The defence was hard put to +it, and only deliberation, and the full knowledge of consequences, +saved the breach. + +The numbers seemed endless, rising out of the black beyond only to take +shape at the rifle muzzle. Thought and action were simultaneous. Each +rifle was pressed tight into the shoulder, while the hot barrel hurled +its billet of death deep into the dusky bodies. + +For Kars those moments were filled to the brim with the intoxicating +elixir demanded by his elemental nature. He fought with a disregard of +self that left its mark upon all those who were near by. He spared +nothing, and his "automatic" drove terror, as well as death, into the +hearts of those with whom he was confronted. It was good to fight for +life in any form. The life of ease and security had small enough +attraction for him. But now--now he fought with the memory of the +wrongs which, through these creatures, had been inflicted upon the girl +who had taught him the true meaning of life. + +Bill was no less stirred, but he possessed another incentive. He +fought till the first casualties in the defence claimed mercy in +exchange for the merciless, and he was forced regretfully to obey the +demands of his life's mission. All his ripeness of thought, all his +philosophy, gleaned under the thin veneer of civilization, had been +swept away by the tidal wave of battle. The original man hugged him to +his bosom, and he rested there content. + +With Abe Dodds emotion held small place. A cold fury rose under the +lash of motive. It was the motive of a man ready at all times to spurn +obstruction from his path. His heart was without mercy where his +interests were threatened. These creatures were a wolf pack, from his +view-point, and he yearned to shoot them down as such. Like Peigan +Charley his desire was that every shot should sink deeply into the +bowels of the enemy. + +In a moment of lull Bill dragged a wounded man off the embankment at +Kars' side. Kars withdrew his searching gaze from the dark beyond. + +"How's things?" he demanded. His voice was thick with a parching +thirst. + +"He's the fifth." + +Bill's reply was preoccupied. Kars was thinking only of the defence. + +"Bully!" he exclaimed. It was the appreciation of the fighter. He had +no thought for anything else. "We'll get 'em hunting their holes by +daylight," he went on. Then suddenly he turned back. His rifle was +ready, and he spoke over his shoulder. + +"There's just one thing better than chasing the long trail, Bill. It's +scrap." + +With a fierce yell a dusky form leaped out of the darkness. He sprang +at the embankment with hatchet upraised. Kars' rifle greeted him and +he fell in his tracks. + +Bill shouldered his wounded burden. A grim smile struggled to his lips +as he bore it away. Nor did his muttered reply reach his now +preoccupied friend. + +"And we cuss the poor darn neche for a savage." + + +It was midnight before the final convulsions of the great storming +assaults showed a waning. The first signs were the lengthening +intervals between the rushes. Then gradually the rushes lessened in +determination and only occasionally did they come to close quarters. +To Kars the signs were the signs he looked for. They were to him the +signs of first victory. But no vigilance was relaxed. The stake was +far too great. None knew better than he the danger of relaxing effort +under the assurance of success. And so the straining eyes of the +defence were kept wide. + +Minutes crept by, passed under a desultory fire from the distance. The +bullets whistled widely overhead, doing no damage to life. The time +lengthened into half an hour and still no fresh assault came. Kars +stirred from his place. He wiped the muck sweat from his forehead, and +passed down the line of embankment to where Abe Dodds held command. + +"We got to get the boys fed coffee and sow-belly," he said. + +Abe with his watchful eyes on the distance replied reluctantly. + +"Guess we'll have to." + +Kars nodded. + +"I sent word to the cook-house. Pass 'em along in reliefs. There's no +figgerin' on the next jolt. We can't take chances--yet." + +"We'll have to--later." + +Again Kars nodded. + +"That's how I figger. But we got to get through this night first. +There's no chances this night. Pass your men along easy. Hold 'em up +on the least sign of things doing." + +He was gone in a moment. And the operation he had prescribed for Abe's +men was applied to his own. + +Another hour passed and still there was no sign from the enemy. It +almost seemed as if the victory had been more complete for the defence +than had at first been thought. The men were refreshed, and the rest +was more than welcome. Kars refused to leave his post. For all his +faith in the defence he trusted the vigilance of no one. + +A meal of sorts was sent down to him from the cook-house, and he shared +it with the stalwart ruffian, Abe, and, for the most part, they +quenched their thirst with the steaming beverage in silence. The +thought of each man was busy. Both were contemplating the ultimate, +rather than the effort of the moment. + +Abe was the first to yield to the press of thought. + +"How's Bill doin'?" he demanded. "What's the figures? I lost four." + +"Wounded--only?" + +"Wounded." + +"Guess that raises the tally." + +"How about your boys?" + +Kars gazed in the direction of the rough storehouse now converted into +a hospital. + +"I'd say five. Bill was here a while back. He reckoned he'd got five +then." + +Abe laughed. It was not a mirthful laugh. He rarely gave way to +mirth. Purpose had too profound a hold on him. + +"Figger up nine by eight nights like this and you ain't got much of a +crowd out of eighty." + +Kars' eyes came swiftly to the lean face shadowed under the night. + +"No." Then he glanced in the direction whence came the reckless Indian +fire. "You mean we can't sit around, and let the neches play their own +war game. That so?" + +"Guess it seems that way." + +"I don't reckon they're going to." Kars tipped out the coffee grounds +from his pannikin with unnecessary force. He laid the cup aside and +turned on the engineer. "Say, boy," he cried, with a deliberate +emphasis, "I've got this thing figgered from A to Z. I've spent months +of thought on it. You're lookin' on the dollars lying around, and +you're yearning to grab them plenty. It's a mighty strong motive. But +it's not a circumstance beside mine. I'd lose every dollar in my bank +roll; I'd hand up my life without a kick, rather than lose this game. +Get me? Say, don't you worry a thing, so we hold this night through. +That's what matters in my figgering. If we hold this night, I got a +whole stack of aces and things in my sleeve. And I'm goin' to play +'em, and play 'em--good." + +The assurance of his manner had a deep effect. Passivity of resistance +at no time appealed to the forceful Abe. Aggression was the chief part +of his doctrine of life. He was glad to hear his chief talk in that +fashion. + +"That talk suits me," he said readily. "I----" + +He broke off, his eyes searching the distance, his hearing straining. +Kars, too, had turned, searching beyond the embankment. + +"It's coming," he said. "It's coming plenty." + +But Abe had not waited. His lean figure was swallowed up in the +darkness as he made off to his post where his men were already +assembled. + +In less than two minutes the battle was raging with all its original +desperation. The black night air was filled with the fury of yelling +voices which vied with the rattle of firearms for domination. Bare, +shadowy bodies hurled themselves with renewed impetus against the +defences, and went down like grain before the reaper. + +The embankments were held with even greater confidence. Earlier +experience, the respite; these things had made their contribution, a +contribution which told heavily against the renewed assault. + +Kars wondered. He had said these men were like sheep. Now they were +like sheep herded on to the slaughter-house. The senselessness of it +was growing on him with his increased confidence. It all seemed +unworthy of the astute half white mind lying behind the purpose. These +were the thoughts which flashed through his mind as he plied his +weapons and encouraged the men of his command, and they grew in +conviction with each passing moment. + +But there was more wit in it all than he suspected. + +The battle was at its height. The insensate savages came on, +regardless of the numbers who fell. The whole line of defence was +resisting with all the energy and resource at its disposal. Then came +the diversion. + +It came by water. It came with a swirl of paddles in the black void +enveloping the great river. Out of the darkness grew the shadowy +outlines of four laden canoes, and the beaching of the craft was the +first inkling Abe Dodds, who held the left defences, had of the +adventure. + +Action and thought were almost one with him. Claiming the men nearest +him he hurled himself on the invaders with a ferocity which had for its +inspiration a full understanding of the consequences of disaster in +such a direction. Outflanking stared at him with all its ugly meaning, +and as he went he shouted hoarsely back to Kars his ill-omened news. +Kars needed no second warning. He passed the call on to Bill. He +claimed the reinforcement which only desperate emergency had the right +to demand. Then he flung himself to the task of making good the +depleted defence where Abe had withdrawn his men. + +The crisis was more deadly than could have seemed possible a moment +before. The whole aspect of the scene had been changed. The breach, +that dreaded breach with all its deadly meaning, was achieved in +something that amounted only to seconds. + +The neches swarmed on the embankments on the lower foreshore. The +defenders who had been left were driven back before the fierce +onslaught. They were already giving ground when Kars flung himself to +their support. The whole position looked like being turned. + +It was no longer a battle of coldly calculated method. Here at least +it had become a conflict where individual nerve and ability alone could +win out. Already some dozen of the half-nude savages had forced +themselves across the embankment, and more were pressing on behind. It +was a moment to blast the sternest courage. It was a moment when the +whole edifice of the white man's purpose looked to be tottering, if not +falling headlong. Kars understood. He had the measure of the threat +to the last fraction, and he flung himself into the battle with a +desperateness of energy and resolve that bore almost immediate fruit. + +His coming had checked the breaking of the defenders. But he knew it +was like patching rotten material. His influence could not last +without Bill and his reinforcements. He plied his guns with a +discrimination which no heat or excitement could disturb, and the first +invaders fell under his attack amidst a din of fierce-throated cries. +His men rallied. But he knew they were fighting now with a shadow at +the back of their minds. It was his purpose to remove that shadow, and +he strove with voice and act to do so. + +The first support of his coming passed with the emptying of his +pistols. He flung them aside without a moment's hesitation, and +grabbed a rifle from a fallen neche. It was the act of a man who knew +the value of every second gained. He knew, even more, the value of his +own gigantic strength. + +The weapon in his hands became a far-reaching club. And, swinging it +like a fiercely driven flail, he rushed into the crowd of savages, +scattering them like chaff in a gale. The smashing blows fell on heads +that split under their superlative force, and the ground about him +became like a shambles. In a moment he discovered another figure in +the shadowy darkness, fighting in a similar fashion, and he knew by the +crude, disjointed oaths which were hurled with each blow, so full of a +venomous hate, that Peigan Charley had somehow come to his support. +His heart warmed, and his onslaught increased in its bitter ferocity. + +He was holding. Just holding the rush, and that was all. Without the +reinforcements he had claimed he could not hope to drive his attack +home. He knew. Nor did he attempt to blind himself. The whole thing +was a matter of minutes now. Defeat, complete disaster hung by a +thread, and the fever of the knowledge fired his muscles to an effort +that was almost superhuman. + +He drove his way through the raging savages, whose crude weapons for +close quarters were aimed at him from every direction. He was fighting +for time. He was fighting to hold--simply hold. He was fighting to +demoralize the rush, and drive terror into savage hearts. And he knew +his limits were steadily approaching. + +His first call had reached the ears of the man for whom it was +intended. Nor had they been indifferent. A call for help from Kars +was an irresistible clarion of appeal to Bill Brudenell. Mercy? There +was no consideration of healing or mercy could claim him from his +friend's succor. He flung aside his drugs, his bandages. He had no +thought for his wounded. He had no thought for himself. + +To collect reinforcements from the northern defences was the work of a +few minutes. Even the elderly breed cook at the cook-house was +claimed, though his only weapons were an ancient patterned revolver and +a pick-haft he had snatched up. Fifteen men in all he was able to +collect and at the head of them he rushed for the battle-ground. + +Nor was he a moment too soon. Kars' vigor was rapidly exhausting +itself. Peigan Charley was fighting with a demoniac fury, but +weakening. The handful of men who were still supporting were nearly +defeated. + +Bill knew the value of creating panic. As he came he set up a yell. +His men took it up, and it sounded like the advance of a legion of +demons. In a moment they were caught in the whirl of battle, and the +flash of their weapons lit the scene, while the clatter of firearms, +and the hoarse-throated shouting, gave an impression of overwhelming +force. Back reeled the yelling horde in face of the onslaught. Back +and still back. Confusion with those pressing on behind set up a +panic. The wretched creatures fell like flies in the darkness. Then +came flight. Headlong flight. The panic which Bill had sought. + +In half an hour from the moment of the first break the position was +restored. Within an hour Kars knew the Battle of Bell River had been +won. But it had been won at a cost he had never reckoned upon. The +margin of victory had been the narrowest. + +Abe had been able to complete his work in the cold businesslike manner +which was all his own. The attack from the river was an unsupported +diversion with forces limited to its need. How nearly it had succeeded +no doubt remained. But in that direction Abe's heavy hand had fallen +in no measured fashion. Those of the landing party who were not +awaiting burial on the foreshore were meeting death in the deep waters +of the swiftly flowing river. Even the smashed canoes were flotsam on +the bosom of the tide. + +The battle degenerated from the moment of the failure of the intended +breach. There was no further attack in force. Small, isolated raids +came at intervals only to be swept back by rifle fire from the +embankments. These, and a desultory and notoriously wild fire, which, +to the defence, was a mere expression of impotent, savage rage, wore +the long night through. Kars had achieved his desire. The night had +been fought out, and the defence had held. + + +Kars was standing in the doorway of the storehouse where Bill was +calmly prosecuting his work of mercy. The doctor's smallish figure was +moving rapidly about the crowded hut. His preoccupation was heart +whole. He had eyes and thought for nothing but those injured bodies +under their light blanket coverings, and the groans of suffering that +came from lips, which, in health, were usually tainted with blasphemy. + +All Kars' thoughts were at the moment concerned with the busy man. +That array of figures had already told him its story. A painful story. +A story calculated to daunt a leader. Just now he was thinking how his +debt to this man was mounting up. Years of intimate friendship had +been sealed by incident after incident of devotion. Now he felt that +he owed his present being to the prompt response to his signal of +distress. But Bill had never failed him. Bill would never fail when +loyalty was demanded. He breathed devotion in every act of his life. +There could be no thanks between them. There never had been thanks +between them. Their bond was too deep, too strong for that. + +The dull lamplight revealed the makeshift of the hospital. There were +no bunks, only the hard earthen floor cleared of stones. Its log walls +were stopped with mud to keep the weather out. A packing case formed +the table on which the doctor's instruments were laid out. It was +rough, uncouth. Its inadequacy was only mitigated by the skill and +gentle mercy of the man. + +Kars' voice broke in upon the doctor's preoccupation. + +"Twenty," he said. "Twenty out of eighty." + +Bill glanced up from the wounded head he was dressing. + +"And the fight just started." + +Kars stirred from the support of the door-casing which had served to +rest his weary body. + +"Yes," he admitted. + +Then he turned away. There seemed to be nothing further to add. He +drew a deep breath as he moved into the open. + +A moment later he was moving with rapid strides in the direction of the +battle-ground. A hard light was shining in his steady eyes, his jaws +were sternly set. All feeling of the moment before had passed. The +gray of dawn was spreading over the eastern sky. His nightmare was +over. There was only left for him the execution of those plans he had +so carefully worked out during the long days of preparation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HARVEST OF BATTLE + +The sun rose on a scene of great activity. It was the garnering of the +harvest of battle. The light of day smiled down on this oasis on a +barren foreshore of Bell River and searched it from end to end. It was +so small in the immensity of its surroundings. Isolated, cut off from +all outside help, it looked as though a deep breath of the Living +Purpose of Life must have swept it away like some ant heap lying in the +path of a thrusting broom. Yet it had withstood the shock of battle +victoriously, and those surviving were counting the harvest. + +But there was no smile in the heart of man. A hundred dead lay +scattered on the foreshore. They congested the defences of the camp. +They had even breathed their last agony within the precincts which they +had sought to conquer. Mean, undersized, dusky-skinned, half-nude +creatures sprawled everywhere, revealing in their attitudes something +of that last suffering before the great release. Doubtless the price +had been paid with little enough regret, for that is the savage way. +It was for their living comrades to deplore the loss, but only for the +serious depletion of their ranks. + +The victorious defenders had no thought beyond the blessings of the +harvest. They had no sympathy to waste. These dead creatures were so +much carrion. The battle was the battle for existence which knows +neither pity nor remorse. + +So the dead clay was gathered and thrown to its last rest on the bosom +of the waters, to be borne towards the eternal ice-fields of the Pole, +or lie rotting on barren, rock-bound shores, where only the cries of +the wilderness awaken the echoes. There was no reverence, no ceremony. +The perils of existence were too near, too real in the minds of these +men. + +With the last of the human sheaves disposed of the real work of the day +began under the watchful eyes of the leaders. The garrison was divided +in half. One-half slept while the other half labored at the defences. +Only the leaders seemed to be denied the ease of body their night's +effort demanded. Picks and shovels were the order of the day, and all +the shortcomings of the defences, discovered during battle, were made +good. The golden "pay dirt" which had drawn the sweepings of Leaping +Horse into the service of John Kars was the precious material of +salvation. + +The fortifications rose on all sides. The river front was no longer +neglected. None could say whence the next attack would come. None +could estimate for sure the subtleties of the bastard white mind which +had so long successfully manipulated the secret of Bell River. + +Not a man but had been impressed by the battle of the night. Not a man +but knew that the losses in defence had been detrimentally +disproportionate. Life to them was sweet enough. But even greater +than the passionate desire to live was lust for possession of the +treasure upon which their feet trod. + +So they worked with a feverish effort. Nothing must be spared. +Nothing neglected that could make for security. + +The leaders conferred, and planned. And the result was concrete +practice. Kars was the guiding spirit, and Abe Dodds was the +machine-like energy that drove the labor forward. Bill took no part in +the work. His work lay in one direction only, and it was a work he +carried out with a self-sacrifice only to be expected from him. His +hospital was full to overflowing, and for all his skill, for all his +devotion, five times, during the day, bearers had to be summoned to +carry out the cold remains of one of their comrades. + +The question in all minds was a speculation as to whether a fresh +attack would mature on the second night. This speculation was confined +to the rank and file of the outfit. The clearer vision of the leaders +searched their own understanding of the position. It was pretty +definitely certain there would be no attack in force. The enemy had +hoped for a victory as the result of surprise and overwhelming odds. +It had failed. It had failed disastrously. The Indians were supposed +to be five hundred strong. They had lost a fifth of their force +without making any apparent impression on the defenders. There could +be no surprise on the second night. It would take longer than twelve +hours to spur the Indians to a fresh attack of a similar nature. + +No, there would be no attack of a serious nature--yet. And Kars +unfolded the plans he had so carefully thought out long months ago. He +set them before his three companions late in the afternoon, and +detailed them with a meticulous care and exactness which revealed the +clarity of vision he had displayed in their construction. + +But they were not plans such as these men had expected. They were +daring and subtle, and they involved a risk only to be contemplated by +such a nature as that of their author. But they promised success, if +fortune ran their way. And in failure they would be left little more +embarrassed than they now stood. + +The meeting terminated as it was bound to terminate with Kars guiding +its council. Joe Saunders, whose mentality limited him to a good +fight, and the understanding of a prospector's craft, had neither demur +nor suggestion. Bill admitted he had no better proposition to offer, +and only stipulated that his share in the scheme should be completely +adequate. Abe protested at the work imposed upon him, but admitted its +necessity. + +"Sit around this layout punchin' daylight into the lousy carcases of a +bunch of neches, while you an' Doc here get busy, seems to me a sort o' +Sunday-school game I ain't been raised to. It's a sort of pie that +ain't had no sweetenin', I guess. An' my stomach's yearnin' for sugar. +That play of yours has got me itching to take a hand. Still, I guess +this darn ol' camp needs holding up, an' if you need me here you can +count me in to the limit." + +Kars nodded unsmilingly. He knew Abe, second only to his knowledge of +Bill Brudenell. That limit was a big one. It meant all he desired. + +"It had to be you or Bill, Abe," he said. "I fixed on you because you +got the boys of this camp where you need them. You'll get all the +fight out of them when you want it. The Doc, here, can dope 'em all +they need, but he hasn't spent half his days driving for gold with an +outfit of scallawags same as you have. Hold this camp to the limit, +boy, and when the work's through I don't guess your share in things'll +be the least. I'm going to bank on you as I've never banked before. +And I don't worry a thing." + +It was a tribute as generous as it was diplomatic, and its effect was +instantaneous. + +"It goes, chief," exclaimed the engineer, with the nearest approach to +real enthusiasm he ever permitted himself. "The limit! An' they'll +need a big bank roll of fight to call my hand." + +Half an hour later Peigan Charley was surprised into wakefulness under +the southern embankment, where he had fallen asleep over his pipe. His +boss was standing over him, gazing down at him with steady, gray, +unsmiling eyes. The scout was sitting up in a moment. He was not yet +certain what the visitation portended. + +"Had a good sleep, Peigan?" Kars demanded, + +"Him sleep plenty, boss." + +"Good." + +Kars turned and glanced out over the great volume of water passing down +the river in a ponderous tide. Peigan Charley waited in mute, +unquestioning fashion for what was to come. + +Presently Kars turned back to his trusted henchman. He began to talk +rapidly. And as he talked the scout thrust his pipe away into a pocket +in his ragged coat, which had once formed part of his boss's wardrobe. +He stood up. Nor did he interrupt. The keen light in his big black +eyes alone betrayed any emotion. There was no doubt as to the nature +of that emotion. For the sparkle in them grew, and robbed them of the +last shadow of their native lack of expression. + +Following upon his boss's words came the Indian's brief but cordial +expression of appreciation. Then came a few minutes of sharp question, +and eager reply. And, at last, came Kars' final injunctions. + +"Well, you'll get right up to the cook-house and eat your belly full. +Get fixed that way good. Maybe you'll need it. Then start right in, +when it's dark, and don't pass word to a soul, or I'll rawhide you. +Get this good. If the neches get wise to you the game's played, and +we've lost." + +The Indian's reply came on the instant, and it was full to the brim of +that contempt which the mention of his race never failed to arouse. + +"Damn fool neche not know," he said icily. + +Kars watched him set out for the cook-house. Then he moved over to the +hospital where Bill was at work. + +He passed within the crude storehouse. He had not come out of any +curiosity. He had not come to contemplate the havoc wrought on the +bodies of this flotsam of dissolute life. He had come for the simple +purpose of offering some cheer in the darkness of suffering. + +For all the ruggedness of exterior displayed by this man when the call +of the northern wilderness claimed him, deep in his heart there were +warm fires glowing which the bond of loyal comradeship never failed to +fan. These Breeds and scallawag Indians were no less to him for their +color, or their morals. They were fighters--fighters of the trail like +himself. It was enough. + + +A desultory rifle fire played over the camp. It was the signal of +passing day. It was a reminder that the day's cessation of hostilities +marked no abatement in the enemy's purpose. The defence was at its +post. A long line of rifles held their vicious muzzles searching for a +target that would repay. Wastage of ammunition was strictly forbidden. +The night, like its predecessor, was obscure. The targets were far +off, and, as yet, invisible. So the defence remained unanswering, but +ready. + +Beyond the new defences on the river front a shadowy figure was +stirring. His movements were stealthy. His moccasined feet gave out +no sound. But there was sound. It was the muffled grating of +something being slid over the gravelly beach at the water's edge. Then +came a gentle splash of water. It was scarcely more than the sound of +a leaping fish. After that came the lapping of the stream against an +obstruction to its course. + +The figure stood up, tall and slim. The rawhide rope in his hand +strung taut. A moment later he secured the end of it by the simple +process of resting a small boulder upon its knotted extremity. + +The canoe had swung to the stream and lay in against the river bank. +The silent figure stooped over its gunwale and deposited various +articles within its shallow depths. It was the merest cockle-shell of +stoutly strutted bark, a product of the northland Indian which leaves +modern invention far behind in the purpose for which it is designed. + +The sound of a footstep on the beach drew the crouching figure to its +full height. Then, at the sound of a familiar voice, all suspicion +died out. + +"All fixed right, Charley?" + +"Sho', boss. Him fix plenty good." + +"Got sow-belly an'--hardtack? Maybe you'll need him. Gun? Plenty +cartridge?" + +"Him plenty--all thing." + +"Good. Say, you need to get around before daylight. Good luck." + +The Indian grunted his reply while he stooped again to release the +rawhide painter. Then, with a nice sense of balance, he sprang lightly +into the shell-like vessel. + +John Kars waited only till he heard the muffled dip of the paddle. +Then he withdrew, a sigh escaping him, an expression of pent feeling +which had hope and doubt closely intermingling for its inspiration. He +passed up to the defences for his second night's vigil. He had +arranged that Abe should sleep unless emergency demanded otherwise. + + +The night passed without incident. Kars was thankful. It was so much +valuable time gained. The labors had been hard following upon the +night of battle. The whole garrison had needed rest. This had been +achieved by systematic relief, which was almost military in its method. +But sleep had been taken at the defences. There had been no relaxing +of vigilance. Nor had the enemy any intention of permitting it. His +loose fire went on the whole time, stirring the echoes of the gorge in +protest at the disturbance of the night. + +Towards morning Kars and Bill were at the water's edge, searching the +black distance, while they strained for a sound other than the echoes +of the spasmodic rifle fire. + +"Charley'll find a trail, if he hasn't broken his fool neck," Kars +said. "Guess he'd find a trail in a desert of sand that's always +shifting. This darn gorge must be scored with them. If he don't, why, +I guess we'll need to chance it up-stream past those workings." + +"Yes." + +Bill sat on the boulder Charley had used as a mooring. He had had his +sleep, but a certain weariness still remained. + +"You'd stake a roll on Charley," he said, with an upward glance of +amusement that was lost in the darkness. + +"Sure." Kars gave a short laugh. "He's a mascot. It's always been +that way since I grabbed him when he quit the penitentiary for +splitting another neche's head open in a scrap over a Breed gal. +Charley's got all the brains of his race, and none of its virtues. But +he's got virtues of a diff'rent sort. They're sometimes found in white +folk." + +"You mean he's loyal." + +"That's it. Every pocket he's got is stuffed full of it. He'll find a +trail or break his fool neck--because I'm needing one. He's the sort +of boy, if I needed him to shoot up a feller, it wouldn't be sufficient +acting the way I said. He'd shoot up his whole darn family, too, and +thieve their blankets, even if he didn't need 'em. He's quite a +boy--when you got him where you need him. I----" + +Kars broke off listening acutely. He turned his head with that +instinct of avoiding the night breeze. Bill, too, was listening, his +watchful eyes turned northward. + +The moments grew. The splutter of rifle fire still haunted the night. +But, for all its breaking of the stillness, the muffled sound of a +paddle grew out of the distance. Kars sighed a relief he would not +have admitted. + +"Back to--schedule," he said. "Guess it needs a half hour of dawn." + +There was no muffle to the sound of the paddle now, and the waiting men +understood. The Indian was up against the full strength of the heavy +stream, and, light as was his craft, it was no easy task to breast it. +For some minutes the rhythmic beat went on. Then the little vessel +grated directly opposite them, with an exactness of judgment in the +darkness that stirred admiration. A moment later Peigan Charley was +giving the results of his expedition in the language of his boss, of +which he considered himself a perfect master. + +"Charley, him find him," he said with deep satisfaction. "Him mak' +plenty trail. Much climb. Much ev'rything. So." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE LAP OF THE GODS + +He looked like a disreputable image carved in mahogany, and arrayed in +the sittings of a rag-picker's store. He was seated on the earthen +door-sill of the hut where Kars was sleeping. He was contemplating +with a pair of black, expressionless eyes the shadows growing in the +crevices of the far side of the gorge. The occasional whistle of a +bullet passing harmlessly overhead failed to disturb him in the +smallest degree. Why should he be disturbed? They were only fired by +"damn-fool neche." + +He sat quite still in that curious haunch-set fashion so truly Indian. +It was one of the many racial characteristics he could not shake +off--for all his boasted white habits--just as his native patience was +part of his being. Nothing at that moment seemed to concern him like +the watching of those growing shadows of night, and the steady +darkening of the evening sky. + +The defences were alive with watchful eyes. The movement of men was +incessant. The smell of cooking hung upon the evening air blending +with the smoke of the cook-house fire. Only the sluices stood up still +and deserted, and the dumps of pay dirt. But, for the moment, none of +these things were any concern of his. He had been detached from the +work of the camp. His belly was full to the brim of rough food, and he +was awaiting the psychological moment when the orders of his boss must +be carried out. Peigan Charley was nothing if not thorough in all he +undertook. + +It mattered very little to him if he were asked to cut an Indian's +throat, or if he were told by Kars to attend Sunday-school. He would +do as his "boss" said. The throat would be cut from ear to ear, if he +had to spend the rest of his days in the penitentiary. As for the +Sunday-school he would sing the hymns with the best, or die in the +attempt. + +Half an hour passed under this straining vigil. He had stirred +slightly to ease his lean, stiffening muscles. The rough buildings of +the camp slowly faded under the growing darkness. The activity of the +camp became swallowed up, and only his keen ears told him of it. The +pack ponies at their picketings, under the sheer walls beyond the +cook-house, abandoned their restless movements over their evening meal +of grain. The moment was approaching. + +At last he stirred. He rose alertly and peered within the darkened +doorway. Then his moccasined feet carried him swiftly and silently to +the side of the bunk on which his "boss" was sleeping. + +Kars awoke with a start. He was sitting up with his blankets flung +back. The touch of a brown hand upon his shoulder had banished +completely the last of his deep slumber. + +"Boss come. Him dark--good." + +The Indian had said all he felt to be necessary. He stood gazing down +at the great shadowy figure sitting up on the bunk. + +"You're an infernal nuisance," Kars protested. But he swung himself +round and stood up. "Everything ready?" he went on, strapping a +revolver belt about his waist. "Boss Bill? He ready?" He picked up +his heavy automatic lying on the table at the head of his bunk, and +examined it with his fingers to ascertain if the clip of cartridges was +full. He reached under the bunk for some spare clips. Then he drew on +his pea-jacket and buttoned it up. + +"Boss Bill all ready. Him by hospital." + +"Good. Then come right on. Go tell Boss Bill. I go to the river." + +The dusky Indian shadow melted away in the darkness. Kars watched it +go. Then he filled up a brandy flask and thrust it into his pocket. A +moment later he passed down to the water's edge, only diverging to +exchange a few parting words with Abe Dodds who was in charge of the +defences. + + +Bill Brudenell sat in the middle of the canoe, a smallish, thickly +coated figure with a beaver cap pressed low down on his iron gray head. +Kars and the Indian were at the paddles, kneeling and resting against +the struts. Kars was in the bow. He was a skilled paddle, but just +now the Indian claimed responsibility for their destination and the +landing. Charley, in consequence, felt his importance. Besides, there +was the praise for his skilful navigation yet to come. + +The rhythmic pressure of the paddles was perfectly muffled. The stream +was with them. It was a swift and silent progress. For all his +knowledge and experience Kars had difficulty in recognizing their +course. Then there were possible submerged boulders and other "snags" +and their danger to the frail craft. But these things were quite +undisturbing to the scout. His sight seemed to possess something of +feline powers. His sense of locality, and of danger, were something +almost uncanny on the water. He had made their present journey once +before, and his sureness was characteristic of his native instincts. + +The journey occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then a low spoken +order came from the Indian. + +"Charley tak' him," was all he said, and Kars, obediently, shipped his +paddle. + +Then came an exhibition of canoeing which rewarded the white men for +their faith in their disreputable henchman. Charley played with the +light craft in the great volume of stream as a feather might yield to a +gentle breeze. The canoe sidled in to the shore through a threatening +shoal of rocky outcrop, and the first stage of the journey was +completed. + +The second stage began after the little craft had been lifted and +placed high above the water's level. Scarcely a word was spoken as the +various articles were taken out of it, and matters were adjusted. +There was nothing slipshod in the arrangements. Every precaution was +taken. These men knew, only too well, the hazard of their undertaking, +and the necessity for provision against emergency. + +The profound darkness was their cover. It was also their danger. +There was no light anywhere under the clouded sky. The northern lights +were hidden, and not even a star was visible. It was what they +desired, what they needed. But the gaping jaws of the profound gorge +might easily form a trap for their undoing. + +Charley led the way over the rocks, and the murmur of cascading waters +greeted the white men's ears. It was another of those draining +waterways which scored the rock-bound river. The sound of the water +grew as they approached its outlet. Then, in a moment, it seemed they +were swallowed up by an inky blackness. + +Charley came to a halt and uncoiled the rawhide rope which he had taken +from the canoe. He paid it out, and passed one end of it to his boss. +He fastened the other end about his waist. Half-way down its length +Bill took possession of it. It was a guiding life-line so that those +behind him should not lose the trail. Then the upward struggle began. + +It was a fierce effort, as Charley's information had indicated. It was +a blind climb surrounded by every pitfall conceivable. The white men +had recollections of a climb of lesser degree, in full daylight, on the +far shore of the river. It had taken something like an hour of +tremendous effort. The difficulties and danger of it had been +incomparable with their present task. Not once, but a dozen times the +life-line was the saving clause for these men who had studied nature's +book in the northern wilderness from end to end. And none realized +better than they how much reliance they were placing in the hands of +the untutored Indian who was guiding them. + +Never for a moment was Charley at a loss. His movements were precise, +definite. He threaded his way amongst tree-trunks and a tangle of +undergrowth with a certainty that never faltered. He surmounted +jutting, slippery crags as though broad daylight marked out for him the +better course. There were moments when he stood on the brink of a +black abyss into which heavy waters fell to a depth of thirty or forty +feet. But always he held the life-line so that the course lay clear +behind him for those who had to follow. + +So the struggle went on. Higher and higher; up, up to what seemed +immeasurable heights. Always was there the threat of the water at +hand, a warning and a constant fear, as well as the main guide. There +was not a moment when life and limb were not threatened. It was only +the pliability of the moccasins, which each man was wearing, that made +the journey possible. It gave them foothold at times where no foothold +seemed possible. It was, as Charley had warned them, "much climb." + +But the task had been contemplated by minds tuned to great purpose. +Nor was there anything in the nature of the northern world that could +daunt that purpose. Bill might have found complaint to offer in the +cool contemplation of his philosophic mind, but the nature of him +defied all better sense, and drove him to a resolution as stubborn and +invincible as that of Kars himself. And Kars had no other thought but +of the objective to be gained. Only physical disaster could stop him. +So his whole strength was flung into the melting pot of achievement. + +The Indian had no other feeling than the pride of a brief leadership. +The aboriginal in him was intensely stirred. Here he was in his native +element. Here he could teach the great man who was, in his curiously +warped mind, far above all others. Besides, was there not at the end +to be a satisfaction of all the savage instincts in him? He knew the +Bell River neches, whom he hated so cordially in common with all others +of his race, were to be outwitted, defeated. And his share in that +outwitting was to be a large one, and would only go to prove further +what a contemptible thing the neche really was. + +So he brought to his aid all those faculties which he owed to his +forebears, and which had been practised in the purposes of his crooked +youth. Nor had he the wit to understand that the "contemptible" Indian +in him was serving him to the limit in this effort he was putting forth. + +The tremendous climb terminated on the wooded crests of the walls of +the great gorge. And the white men paused, thankful enough for the +moment of relaxation, while Charley scouted for his bearings. But the +pause was of the briefest. Charley was back almost before the tired +muscles had relaxed. The briefest announcement in the scout's pigeon +English and the journey was resumed. + +"Charley's eye all clear. We go?" + +The life-line was recoiled, and the scout wore it over one shoulder, +and across his chest. He had secret hopes for that rope which he +imparted to no one. + +The way through the virgin forest was almost brief. In a half hour +they stood clear of it with a dark stretch of open country stretching +out before them. Nor was there the least hesitation. Charley picked +out his way, as a cat will pass through the darkest apartment without +colliding with the furnishings. He seemed to read through the darkness +with a mental torch. + +A mile of the way lay over a stretch of attenuated grass along a ridge +that sloped away to the depths of a narrow valley, which converged upon +the river some miles to the north. Then came a drop, a steady decline +which brought them to a wider and shallower part of the valley they had +been skirting. What obstacles might lie in that hollow the white men +were powerless to estimate. They were entirely in the hands of the +Indian, and were content that this was so. + +None spoke, and the scout moved on with the swiftness of absolute +certainty. Shadowy bluffs loomed up, were skirted, were left behind. +Once or twice a grunted warning came from the leader as marshy ground +squelched under the soft moccasins. But that was all. Charley's whole +mind was set in deep concentration. Pitfalls, which might trap, were +of small enough importance. The trail was all-absorbing. + +A shallow lapping stream crossed their path. The banks were low and +quaking. They plunged into the knee-deep water, and their feet sank +into the bed of soft, reed-grown mud. They crossed the deep nearly +waist high, and floundered out on to the far bank. Then came a further +groping progress through a thicket of saplings and lesser growth. This +passed, they emerged upon an upward slope and firm patchy grassland. +It was at the summit of this that the Indian paused. + +He stood staring out in a southwesterly direction. For a while he +remained silent. Kars and Bill squeezed the water from their stout +moleskin trousers. + +Suddenly Charley flung out an arm. He was pointing with a lean +forefinger. + +"Neche lodge," he said. "Louis Creal him shack." + +Kars and Bill were at either side of him searching the dark horizon. A +light was shining dimly in the distance. Nor did it need much +understanding to realize that it came from behind a primitive, +cotton-covered window. + +"Good. How far?" + +It was Kars who spoke. + +"Piece down. Piece up. So. One mile. Bluff. Small piece. Bell +River neches--plenty teepee." + +Charley spoke with his outstretched hand indicating a brief decline, +and the corresponding rise of ground beyond. Again it was the Indian +in him that would not be denied illustration by gesture. + +Again they moved forward. Again was the scout's rightness and accuracy +proved. The ground fell away into a short dip. It rose again in the +far side of the moist bottom, and its summit confronted them with a +clean cut barrier of tall pine woods. It was the end of the toilsome +journey. The screening bluff to the northeast, without which no Indian +village, however primitive, is complete. + +They were not to pass through it. The scout turned off sharply to the +left, and moved down its length with swift, untiring steps. Nor did he +pause again till the great bluff was passed, and once more the square, +yellow patch of light gazed out at them from the dark vault of night. + +With a brief explanation the Indian yielded up his command. + +"Him Louis Creal," he said pointing. Then he swung his arm away to the +right. "Him Indian lodge. Much teepee. Much dog." He paused. +"Charley him finish--yes?" he added almost regretfully. + +Kars promptly led the way back to the cover of the woods. + +"Guess we'll sit around," he said, in a low voice. "I'll hand out the +talk." + + +Under the deep hush of night the village of the Bell River terror +slumbered. The raw-pelt teepees, their doors laced fast, stood up like +shadowy mausoleums with rigid arms stretched high above their sharp +crowns, as though in appeal to the frowning night heavens. In vain +glory an occasional log hut, with flattened reed roof, stood out +surrounded by its complement of teepees to mark the petty chieftainship +of its owner. Otherwise there was nothing to vary the infinite squalor +of the life of a northern race. Squalor and filth, and almost bestial +existence, made up the life of aboriginal man in a land where glacier +and forest vied with each other as the dominating interpretation of +Nature. + +Nor was there need for optical demonstration of the conditions. It was +there to faculties of scent. It was there in the swarms of night +flies. It was there in the howl of the scavenging camp dogs, seeking, +in their prowling pack, that which the daylight denied them. Savage as +a starving wolf pack these creatures wallowed in the refuse of the +camp, and fought for offal as for a coveted delicacy. And so the women +and men laced tight their doors that the fly-tormented pappooses might +sleep in security. In daylight these foraging beasts were curs who +labored under the shadow of the club, at night they were feared even by +their masters. + +Kars, and those with him, understood the conditions. The night hid no +secrets from them with regard to the village which sheltered their +enemy. They had learned it all in years of the long trail, and +accepted it as a matter of course. But, for the present, the village +was not their concern. It was the yellow patch of light shining in the +darkness that held them and inspired their council. + +The light was widely apart from the village. It was on a rising ground +which overlooked the surroundings. It was one of the many eyes of a +low, large, rambling building, half store, half mere dwelling, which +searched the movements of the degraded tribe which yielded something +approaching slavery to the bastard white mind which lurked behind them. + +The silence of the place was intense. There was no yap of angry cur +here. There was no sign of life anywhere, beyond that yellow patch of +light. The place was large and stoutly constructed. The heavy +dovetailed logs suggested the handicraft of the white. The dimly +outlined roof pitches had nothing of the Indian about them. But in +other respects it was lacking. There were no fortifications. It was +open to approach on all sides. And its immediate neighborhood reeked +with the native odors of the Indian encampment. It suggested, for all +its aloofness, intimate relations with the aboriginal life about it. +It suggested the impossibility of escape for its owner from the taint +of his colored forebears. + +Though no sound broke the stillness about this habitation shadows were +moving under its outer walls. Gliding shadows moving warily, stealing +as though searching out its form, and measuring its vulnerability. +They hovered for moments at darkened window openings. The closed doors +afforded attraction for them. For half an hour the silent inspection +went on. + +These movements seemed to have system. No doorway or window escaped +attention. No angle but was closely searched. Yet for all the +movement, it was ghostly in its completeness of silence. Finally the +lighted window drew their whole attention, and, for many minutes, +nothing further interested them. + +At last, however, the gathering broke up. One figure passed away +around an angle of the building and disappeared in the direction of a +closed doorway. A second figure, larger than the others, passed on in +the direction of another door. The third, a slim, alert creature, +remained at the window. In one hand he held a long, keen-edged knife. +In the other a heavy pistol loaded in every barrel. + +Within the building an equally silent scene was being enacted. + +The room was low roofed, with a ceiling of cotton billowing downwards +between the nails which held it to the rafters. No minute description +could adequately picture the scene. It was half living-room, half +store for Indian trade, and wholly lacking in any sort of order or +cleanliness. + +One wall was completely covered with shelves laden with merchandise. +There were highly colored cotton prints and blankets. There were +bottles and canned goods. There were tobacco and kegs of fiery rye +whisky. There were packets and bundles, and deep partitioned trays of +highly colored beads. A counter, which stood before this piled up +litter, was no less laden. But that which was under the counter was +hidden from view. + +A corner of the room was crowded to the ceiling with valuable furs in +their rough-dried state. Another was occupied by a fuel box stacked +with split cord-wood, for the box stove which stood in the centre of +all. The earthen floor was foul with dust and litter, and suggested +that no broom had passed over it for weeks. + +But the quality of the place was of less interest than its human +occupants. There were two. Both were clad in the thick, warmth-giving +garments characteristic of the north. One stood behind the counter +leaning over an account book of considerable proportions and was +absorbed in its perusal. The other was seated with his feet resting on +the steel rail of the stove, basking in its warmth. His back was to +the lamp and the cotton-covered window, and he was gazing in the +direction of the man at the counter through a haze of smoke from his +pipe. He was lounging in the only piece of furniture the room boasted, +except for the table on which a large glass of spirits stood adjacent +to the oil lamp. Not once, but several times he plied himself with the +ardent spirits, while the man absorbed in his ledger turned the pages +before him. The man in the chair continued to drink without stint. He +drank with the abandon of one who has long since done with the +restraint imposed by civilization. + +The man at the counter worked on silently. He, too, had a charged +glass beside him. But, for the moment, it was neglected. His figures +absorbed his whole attention. + +At last he looked up. His yellow skin was shining. His wicked black +eyes were twinkling, which, with the scars distorting his features, +gave him a look of curiously malevolent triumph. + +"Guess they're kind of rough figgers," he apologized. "But they're +near enough to make good readin'." + +"What's the total?" The demand was sharp and masterful. + +"Just under ten thousand ounces since last reckoning. That's the last +half of last summer's wash-up. There's nigh a thousand tons of dirt to +clean still. It's the biggest wash we've had, an' it's growing. When +we've cleaned out this gang we won't need to do a thing but shout. +There ain't no limit to the old gorge," he added gleefully. "When +we've passed the bones of John Kars to the camp dogs, why, we can jest +make up our bank roll how we darn please." + +"Yes." + +The man at the stove emptied and replenished his glass, and sat +handling it like one who treasures its contents. But there was a +frowning discontent in his eyes. + +"We need to pass those bones along quick," he demurred. "We haven't +done it yet." + +The half-breed at the counter searched the discontented face with +speculative eyes. + +"You guessin' we can't?" + +There was incredulity in his tone. + +"I don't guess a thing. We've just--got to." The surly determination +was unconvincing. + +"An' why not?" The half-breed's eyes were widely questioning. "It +don't worry me a thing. We fixed Mowbray all right. He was no blamed +sucker. I tell you right here there's no white outfit goin' to dip +into my basket, an' get away with it. We'll hammer 'em good and +proper. An' if that don't fix 'em, why, I guess there's always the +starvation racket. That don't never fail when it's backed by winter +north of 'sixty.' Them curs'll get his bones all----" + +But the man at the stove was no longer paying attention. He had turned +in his chair, and his eyes were on the door. His glass was poised in +the act of raising it to his lips. It remained untouched. + +"I thought----" Nor did he complete that which he had been about to +say. + +The door was thrust wide with a jolt. There was the swift clash of a +knife ripping the cotton window behind him. Then came an incredulous +ejaculation, as two guns were held leveled in the doorway. + +"God! Murray McTavish!" + +The movements of those moments were something electrical. Everything +seemed to happen at once. Every man playing his little part in the +drama of it was accustomed to think and act in the moment of emergency. +These men owed their present existence to their capacity for survival +where danger was ever lurking. + +Seconds counted on the fingers on one hand were sufficient to decide +the issue. A shot sung in through the uncovered window which carried +back no "spat" to the man who fired it. But the eyes which had guided +it beheld the half-breed at the counter sprawl across the account book +which had yielded him so much satisfaction. Almost at the instant of +his fall a lean, agile, dusky, disreputable figure leaped into the room +through the aperture which his knife had freed of its covering. + +Kars in the doorway had been no less swift. His automatic spoke, but +it spoke no quicker than a similar weapon in the hands of Murray +McTavish. + +It was a situation pregnant with possibilities. The bulky body of the +trader of Fort Mowbray had moved with the quickness, the agility of +lightning. His glass had dropped to the filthy floor with a crash, and +its place in his hand had been taken by a pistol in the twinkle of an +eye. He was on his feet, and had hurled his bullet at the figure in +the doorway in the space of time elapsing between John Kars' startled +exclamation and the discharge of his weapon, which had been almost on +the instant. + +With deadly purpose and skill Murray had taken no aim. He had fired +for the pit of the stomach with the instinct of the gunman. Perhaps it +was the haste, perhaps the whisky had left its effect on him. His shot +tore its way through Kars' pea-jacket, grazing the soft flesh of his +side below his ribs. The second and third shots, as the automatic did +its work, were even less successful. There was no fourth shot, for the +weapon dropped from Murray's nerveless hand as Kars' single shot tore +through his adversary's extended arm and shattered the bones. + +The injured man promptly sought to recover his weapon with the other +hand. But no chance remained. A dusky figure leaped upon his back +from behind, and the dull gleam of a long knife flourished in the +lamplight. + +Then came Kars' fierce tones. + +"Push your hands up, blast you!" + +Peigan Charley's arm was crooked about the trader's neck. There was no +mercy in his purpose. The fierce joy of the moment was intoxicating +him. The knife. He yearned, with savage lust, to drive it deep into +the fat body struggling under his hold. But Murray understood. One +hand went up. The other made an effort, but remained helpless at his +side. Instantly Kars stayed the ruthless hand of the savage. + +"Quit it, Charley!" he cried. "Loose your hold and see to the other. +I got this one where I need him." + +The Indian yielded reluctantly. He looked on for a moment while Kars +advanced and secured the trader's fallen weapon. Then he passed across +to the counter. + +The half-breed was badly wounded. But the Indian had neither pity nor +scruple. He turned him over where he lay groaning across his counter. +He searched him and relieved him of a pair of loaded revolvers. Then, +standing over him, he waited for his chief. + +Nor had he to wait long. Kars completed his work in silence. For the +time words were unnecessary. Murray was suffering intensely, but he +gave no sign. His great eyes, glowing with malevolent fire, watched +his victorious rival's movements, and a growing dread took possession +of him at his silence. He was searched, carefully searched. Then Kars +turned to the Indian as a thin haze of smoke crept in through the jamb +of a door which communicated with some other portion of the building. + +"Get him outside," he said. "Pass that rope along." + +The Indian uncoiled the rawhide rope from about his chest and brought +it across. Kars pointed at the fat figure of Murray. + +"Get it about his feet so he can walk--that's all." + +The Indian's appreciation rose. It was displayed in the fashion in +which he secured the trader. He erred generously on the side of +security. When he had finished Murray could hobble. There was no +chance of his escape. + +The mist of smoke was deepening. The smell of burning was in the air. +The prisoner suddenly displayed alarm. + +"For God's sake get out of here," he cried, in a sudden access of +panic. "The place is afire. The cellars under are full of explosives." + +"That's how I figgered." + +Kars' rejoinder was calmly spoken. He pointed at the half-breed. + +"See to him, Charley," he said. And he waited till the Indian had +roughly dragged the wounded man into the open. Then he turned to the +panic-stricken trader. + +"Now you," he commanded, and pointed at the doorway. + + +The night sky was lit with a dull red glow. A fierce fire was raging +on the rising ground beyond the Indian village. A great concourse of +dusky figures, men, and women, and pappooses were gathered at a safe +distance watching with awe the riot of that terror which haunted their +lives. + +The whole village was awake, and had turned out to witness the calamity +which had befallen. Others had joined them. Those others who had +contemplated the destruction of the white invaders down in the river +gorge. Their crude minds held no clue to the cause of the thing which +had happened. Each and all wondered and feared at the non-appearance +of the men who led them. But none dared approach the fire. None +thought to extend help to its possible victims. Fire was a demon they +feared. It was a demon they were ready enough to invoke to aid them in +war. But his wrath turned against themselves was something to be +utterly dreaded. So they stood and watched--from afar off. + +There were others watching, too. But they were still farther off. +They were standing on a high ground in the shelter of a bluff of trees. +Their direction was towards the river, where the Indian had led them +earlier in the night. + +The fire licked up towards the heavy sky in jagged tongues of flame. +The Indians were held fascinated by their own terror. The others were +waiting for other reasons. + +Two figures were on the ground. One was squatting on his heavy +buttocks. The other was stretched prone and helpless. Two men were +standing guard, their eyes wide for that which was to come. The Indian +Charley was absent. He had gone to summon aid from the river. + +That which was awaited came when the fire was at its height. It came +with a roar, tossing the licking flames into a wild chaos of protest. +They were swept apart, and a great detonation boomed across to +expectant ears. A pillar of smoke and flame shot up to the heavens. +Then a deluge of smoke partially obscured all vision. + +"Good!" Kars' monosyllable was full of intense satisfaction. + +"They'll go hungry for fighting fodder," said Bill. + +Nor was there any less satisfaction in his comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE END OF THE TERROR + +Kars stood on the embankment watching the receding form of the aged +chief, Thunder-Cloud, taking his departure with his escort. It was an +outfit to inspire ridicule, were it not for the seriousness lying +behind the human passions governing the situation. Kars understood. +Those with him understood. Peigan Charley alone lacked appreciation. +He regretted the old man's coming under a truce. He even more +regretted his departure--whole. But then Peigan Charley was a savage, +and would never be otherwise. + +The old man tottered along over the rough foreshore which had been +cleared of its human debris. His blanket-clad shoulders, though gay +with color, were bowed with senility, a mockery of the vaunting +splendor which glared out in vivid stripes. His escort, too, was +mostly elderly. There were no fighting men in it. They were the +counselors, who worked overtime with inadequate brains, and delivered +the result by word of mouth with all the confidence of their kind. + +It had been an interesting moment for the leaders of the camp. For +Kars it had been something in the nature of a triumph. It had yielded +him his reward for a superlative effort of reckless daring, in which +the loyalty of his companions had helped him. + +The old man had talked. He had babbled on through his interpreter at +great length. His talk had been a rambling declaration of friendship +for the white man. He had assured Kars that he, Kars, was held in +great personal esteem by the Indians. The last thing in any Indian +mind was a desire to shed his blood, or the blood of any of his +"braves," who fought so magnificently. He assured him that he had come +to say that all the Indians, even those who had been so very fierce, +and were now so no longer, would gladly smoke the pipe of peace with +their white brothers, and bury the hatchet now and forever. + +Nor did he inform his audience of the events which had led up to this +desire, and of which he believed they must be ignorant. He failed to +mention that their own white leaders had vanished, literally in smoke, +that all supplies necessary to carry on the war had been completely cut +off by the destruction by fire of the magazine in which these things +were stored. On these matters he was discreetly reticent, and Kars was +satisfied that it should be so. On his part he had no desire to +enlighten him to the fact that, at that moment, Murray McTavish was +lying in the extemporized hospital in the camp with a shattered arm, +and that the half-breed, Louis Creal, was slowly dying with a bullet +through his lungs, under the same primitive shelter. + +Kars had listened. And his whole attitude was one of clear-eyed +wisdom. He assured the crafty old man that he was certain of the Bell +River Indians' good faith. He was furthermore convinced that the men +of Bell River were the finest Indian race in the world, with whom it +was the whole object of a white man's life to live in peace. He was +certain that the recent events had been inspired by powers of evil +which had now been destroyed, and that he saw no obstacle to cementing +a lasting friendship with the Indians, which he was sure would lead to +happy days of plenty for the noble red man. + +And so the farce had gone on to its end with truly Indian ceremonial. +But it did not come to a close until Kars had elicited from the old +rascal a complete story of the murder of Allan Mowbray. To him this +was of far more importance than all the rest of the old sinner's talk. +The story was extracted piecemeal, and was given in rambling, evasive +fashion. But it was given completely in the end, and with a veracity +which Kars had no reason to doubt. + +It was a long enough story, which became a record of perfidy and crime +laid entirely at the doors of Murray McTavish and Louis Creal. + +The Indians had known Allan Mowbray for many years. They were good +friends. Allan Mowbray clothed and fed them in return for furs. Then +came a time when the white man found yellow dust on the river bank. He +liked it. He told the Indians so, and showed them how to find it, and +promised them, if they would collect all they could, and trade it with +him, they would never want for anything. He sent the half-breed, Louis +Creal, to see they did the work right, and fitted him out a store. +Louis Creal was a servant of Allan Mowbray. He was not a partner. + +A great prosperity set in for the Indians, and they were very pleased +and very contented. Then came a time when the other white man +appeared, Murray McTavish. He made great changes. The Indians had to +work harder, but they got more trade. They got whisky. They grew more +and more prosperous. The new white man was always smiling and +pleasant, and the young men liked him very much, because he made the +squaws and old men do most of the work, while they were given rifles, +and allowed to practice the arts of war which had died out in their +tribe for so long. + +The new white man then told them that they must not let any other +Indians come near Bell River. These traveling Indians were a great +danger. Finding the Bell River folk prosperous and happy they would +become envious. They would come in the night and burn and massacre. +The young men realized the danger, and they went on the war-path. All +who came near were killed. Then the young men scoured the country +around, and burned the homes of all Indians they found, and killed +their fighting men. The new white man was very pleased. + +After a very long time Murray McTavish and Louis Creal held a big +council with the young men. The white man told them they were in very +great danger. He said that Allan Mowbray was no longer to be trusted. +He was a traitor. He assured them that Allan Mowbray was going through +the country telling the Indians and white folk of the yellow dust on +the river. This was betraying the Indians. For now all people would +come along in such numbers they would sweep the Bell River Indians +away, they would kill them all, and burn their homes, and they would +kill the white men, too, so that they could get all the dust that +belonged to the people of Bell River. The only way to save themselves +was by killing Allan Mowbray. + +The young men were very angry, and very fierce. And the white man +offered them council and advice. He showed them how they could trap +Allan Mowbray and kill him. And Louis Creal would help them. + +This the young men did on the banks of the river, led by Louis Creal. + +But the old villain was careful to explain that now, now, at last--of +course since the ruin of their prospects through the destruction of +their sources of supply--all the Bell River tribe was sorry that Allan +Mowbray had been killed. They understood that he was not a traitor. +It was the others who were traitors. Allan Mowbray was killed because +they wanted all the yellow dust themselves, and he, Thunder-Cloud, +personally, as well as the young men, was very glad that they had both +been found out by the Indians. They were very, very bad men who had +wanted Kars and his people killed, too, but fortunately the Indians had +found out that Kars was a good man, and a friend of the Indian, and so +it was the desire of all to live in peace. In fact the Indian would be +very pleased to trade yellow dust with him. + +As the old chief vanished in the region of the Indian workings Kars +turned back to his camp. For some moments he surveyed the scene with +serious eyes. It was all over. Already the persistent energy of Abe +Dodds was making itself apparent. The pumps had been restarted. The +sluices were awash, and gangs were starting to demolish the embankments +of auriferous pay dirt. The armed camp was vanishing before the breath +of peace, and the change brought him a measure of relief he remained +wholly unaware of. + +It had been a desperate time while it had lasted. A desperateness +quite unrealized until it was over, and complete victory had been +achieved. And, curiously enough, by far his most anxious time had been +the safe return from his raid on Louis Creal's store, with his +prisoners. Peigan Charley had been unfailing. The Indian had reached +the camp and found it secure. There had been no attack in his absence. +He had explained the situation in his own lurid but limited language to +Abe Dodds, and the assistance needed had been promptly forthcoming. + +The whole enterprise, the capture of the prisoners, the burning of +Louis Creal's store, had been carried out without the Indian's +obtaining an inkling of that which was going forward. And +unquestionably it was due largely to this absolute secrecy in the +operation that the present peace offer had been so promptly forthcoming. + +But in the midst of his triumph Kars had little enough rejoicing. He +had been shocked--shocked beyond words. And the shock left a haunting +memory which dominated every other feeling. It was Murray McTavish's +share in the villainies of the sombre river. + +It was incredible--almost. But the worst feature of the whole thing +lay in the man's callous display. This murderer, this murderer of her +father, this man who was her father's friend, had dared to contemplate +marriage with Jessie. He had asked her to marry him while the memory +of his crime must still have been haunting, almost before the red blood +of his victim had dried upon his ruthless hands. It was unspeakable. + +The smiling, genial Murray. The man of bristling energy and apparent +good-will. The man who had assumed the protection of the women-folk +left defenceless by his own crime--a murderer. The horror of it all +left Kars consumed by a cold fury more terrible than any passion he had +ever known. With his whole soul he demanded justice. With his whole +soul he was resolved that justice should be done. + +He remembered so many things now. He remembered the shipment of arms +with which, he had assured Bill, he believed Murray intended to wipe +out the Bell River scourge. And he remembered Bill's doubtful +acceptance of it. Now he knew from bitter experience the meaning of +that shipment. It was the murder of himself. The massacre of his +"outfit." An added crime to leave Murray free to wallow in his gold +lust. Free to possess himself of Jessie Mowbray. He wondered how long +Louis Creal would have survived had Murray achieved his purpose. + +His discovery had been incredible--_almost_. But not quite. +Subconscious doubts of Murray had always been his. Bill Brudenell's +doubts of the man had been more than subconscious. The growth of his +own subtle antagonism towards the trader had always disturbed him. But +its growth had gone on while he remained powerless to check it. He had +set it down to rivalry for a woman's love. He had accepted it as such. +But now it possessed a deeper significance. He believed it to have +been instinctive distrust. But a murderer. No. The reality was +beyond his wildest imaginings. + +He left the embankment and passed back to the shanty where the council +of peace had been held. + +Bill was within. He was seated on his bunk contemplating the automatic +pistol which Kars had taken from Murray McTavish. It was lying across +his knee, and one hand was gripping its butt. The Indian reek still +permeated the atmosphere, and Kars exhaled in noisy disgust as he +entered. + +"Gee! It's a stinking outfit," he exclaimed, in tones that left no +doubt of his feelings, as he flung himself on his bunk and began to +fill his pipe. + +Bill glanced up. His gaze was preoccupied. + +"Neches do stink," he admitted. + +Kars struck a match. + +"I wasn't worrying about the neches. The neches don't cut any ice with +me. It's Murray." + +Bill shook his head while he watched Kars light his pipe. + +"Then it's more than a stinking outfit. Maybe I should say 'worse.'" +His eyes were twinkling. It was not with amusement. It was the nature +of them. + +But Kars denied him with an oath. + +"It couldn't be." + +Bill turned his gaze towards the doorway. He was watching the blaze of +spring sunlight, and the hovering swarms of flies which haunted the +river bank. + +"But it could. It is," he said deliberately, and his eyes came back to +the weapon in his hand. Then he added with some force: + +"There'll need to be a hanging--sure." + +"Allan was murdered at his instigation. He'll certainly hang for it," +Kars agreed. + +"I wasn't thinking that way." + +"How then?" + +"This." Bill held up the gun. + +"That? It's Murray's gun. I----" + +"Yes," Bill interrupted him, a fierce light leaping into his eyes and +transfiguring them in a manner Kars had never before beheld. "It's +Murray's gun, and it's the gun that handed death to young Alec Mowbray +at the Elysian Fields." + +"God!" + +Kars' ejaculation was something in the nature of a gasp. Renewed +horror was looking out of his eyes. His pipe was held poised in his +fingers while it was allowed to go out. A curious feeling of +helplessness robbed him of further articulation. + +The two men were gazing eye to eye. At last, with an effort, Kars +flung off the silence that held him. + +"How--how d'you know?" he demanded in thick tones. + +Bill held up a nickel bullet between his finger and thumb. Then he +displayed the half empty cartridge clip he had extracted from the +weapon. + +"They're the same make, and--this is the bullet I dug out of poor +Alec's body." + +Kars breathed deeply. He regarded the various articles, held +fascinated as by something evil but irresistible. He watched Bill as +he replaced them on the bunk beside him. Then, for a few seconds, the +sounds of activity outside, and the buzz of the swarming flies alone +broke the silence. + +But the moment of silence passed. It was broken by a fierce oath, and +it came from Bill. A hot flush stained his tanned cheeks. His anger +transformed him. + +"God in Heaven!" he cried. "I've suspected right along. Guess I must +have _known_, and couldn't believe. I'm just mad--mad at the thought +of it. Say, John, he's had us beaten the whole way. And now it's too +late. I could cry like a kid. I could break my fool head against the +wall. The whole darn thing was telling itself to me, way back months, +down in Leaping Horse, and I just wouldn't listen. And now the boy's +dead." + +He drew a deep breath. But he went on almost at once. And though his +tones were more controlled his emotion was working deeply. + +"D'you know why I brought that bullet along? No," as Kars shook his +head. "I guess I don't quite know myself. And yet it seemed to me it +was necessary. I sort of felt if we got behind things here on Bell +River we'd find a link between them and that bullet. Now I know. Say, +I've got it all now. It's acted itself all to me right here in this +shack. It was acting itself to me up there in that ruined shack across +the river, when you handed me your talk of Murray's purpose, only I +guess I wasn't sitting in the front row, and hadn't the opera glasses +to see with. + +"Say, it's the same darn story over again," he went on with passionate +force. "It's the same with a different setting, and different +characters. It's the same motive. Just the rotten darn motive this +world'll never be rid of so long as human nature lasts. We've both +seen it down there in Leaping Horse, and, like the fools we were, +guessed the long trail was clear of it. We're the fools and suckers. +God made man, and the devil handed him temptation. I'll tell you the +things I've seen floating around in the sunlight, where the flies are +worrying, while I've been sitting around here looking at that gun you +grabbed from Murray. It's a tough yarn that'll sicken you. But it's +right. And you'll learn it's right before the police set their rope +around Murray McTavish's neck. I don't think Murray's early history +needs to figger. If it did, maybe it wouldn't be too wholesome. Where +Allan found him I don't know, and Murray hasn't felt like talking about +things himself. Maybe Allan knew his record. I can't say. Anyway, as +I said, it doesn't figger. There's mighty few folks who hit north of +'sixty' got much of a Sunday-school record, and they're mostly out for +a big piece of money quick. Anyway, in this thing Allan found Murray +and brought him along a partner in a gold stake. He brought him +because the proposition was too big, and too rich for him to handle on +his own. Get that. And Murray knew what he was coming to. That was +Allan's way. He handed him the whole story because he was a straight +dealing feller who didn't understand the general run of crookedness +lying around. It was no partnership in a bum trading outfit. It was a +big gold proposition, and _it had to be kept secret_. + +"Murray came along up. Maybe he had no thought then of what he was +going to do later. Maybe he had an eye wide open anyway. He got a +grip on things right away. He found a feller who didn't know how to +distrust a louse. He found two white women, as simple as the snow on +the hilltops, and a boy who hadn't a heap of sense. He found an old +priest who just lived for the love of helping along the life of those +around him. And he found gold, such as maybe he'd dreamed of but never +thought to see. Do you get it? Do I need to tell you? Murray, hard +as a flint, and with a pile set out in front of him for the taking. +Can you hear him telling himself in that old Fort that he's there on a +share only, while he runs the things for a simple feller, and his +folks, who haven't a real notion beyond the long trail? I can hear +him. I can hear the whole rotten story as he thinks it out. It's the +same, always the same. The mania for gold gets men mad. It drives +them like a slave under the lash. But Murray is cleverer than most. A +heap cleverer. This thing is too big for any fool chance. It wants to +go so no tracks are left. So no one, not even those simple women, or +that honest priest, can make a guess. So there isn't a half-breed or +Indian around the Fort can get wise. There's just one way to work it, +and for nigh ten years he schemes so the Bell River terror under Louis +Creal gets busy. We've seen the result here. We heard his yarn from +old Thunder-Cloud, and to fix things the way he needed he only had to +buy over a dirty half-breed, which is the best production of hell +walking the earth. + +"With the murder of Allan, _by the Indians_, his whole play begins. He +goes up with an outfit. There's no fooling. His outfit sees the +result. There's nothing to be done. So he gets right back with the +mutilated body, and mourns with the folk he's injured. Yes, it's +clever. That's the start. What next? Murray keeps to the play of the +loyal friend and protector. It's all smooth to him, and only needs the +playing. The store and its trade, and his fortune are left by Allan to +his widow. He's completed his first step without a snag cropping up. +Meanwhile you come along. + +"Murray's quick to see things. Louis Creal tells him you've been +around Bell River. He tells him you've found the Indian workings. He +tells him he nearly got you cold. Besides that Murray figgers around +you and Jessie. It's the first snag he's hit, and it's one to be +cleared. But it's just incidental to his scheme, which has to be put +through. And his scheme? It's so easy--now. He's got to marry Jessie +and so make himself one of the family. The widow'll be glad to hand +over her fortune to be administered by Jessie's husband. And, in the +end, the whole outfit'll come into Jessie's hands, and so into his. +But there's a further snag. Alec is to get the business at his +mother's death. And Alec hasn't any use for Murray, and, if foolish, +is hot-headed. Alec has to be got rid of. How? The father's murder +can't be safely repeated. How then? Alec is yearning for life. He's +yearning to wallow in the sink of Leaping Horse. Murray encourages +him. Murray persuades his mother. Murray takes him down there, and +flings him into the sink. But Murray hasn't forgotten you. Not by a +lot. He's going to match your outfit. He's going to measure his wits +against yours. He's going to get you done up on Bell River the same as +Allan Mowbray, and the play will be logical for all who hear of it. So +he ships in the supplies and makes ready. Meanwhile the boy plays into +his hands. He gets all tied up with the woman belonging to Shaunbaum. +And Shaunbaum figgers to kill him. Murray needs that. It'll save him +acting that way himself. But he's taking no chances. He watches all +the while. He locates everything, every move Shaunbaum makes. How I +can't guess, but it's easy to a feller like Murray. Well, the gunmen +get around. Maybe you'll say this is just a guess. It don't seem that +way to me. I sort of see it all doing. The day Alec's to be shot up +by Shaunbaum's gunmen gets around. That morning Murray pulls out +north. Then comes night. He sneaks back. I seem to see Murray +sitting around in one of the boxes opposite us. Maybe he came in +quietly amongst the crowd. He keeps close in that box, hidden. He +watches. His eye is on the gun-men. If they do their work right, why, +he'll clear out free of the blood of the boy. If they don't----? + +"But the boy had a dash of his father in him. He knew trouble was +hitting his trail. When it caught him up he was ready. He was quicker +than the gun-men. And Murray was watching and saw. His gun was ready +behind the curtains of that box, and it spoke, and spoke quick. The +gunman was dead. Alec was dead. There was no trail left. Only the +bullet I dug out of the poor kid's body. Murray cleared on the +instant, and didn't have to _pass through the hall_. The rest----" +Bill finished up with a comprehensive gesture indicating the camp about +them. + +The work going on outside sounded doubly loud in the silence that +followed the rapidly told story. Kars' brooding eyes were turned on +the sunlit doorway. His pipe had remained cold. + +It was almost a visible effort with which he finally bestirred himself. + +"You guess he quit his outfit and returned to Leaping Horse," he said. +"You can't prove it." + +Bill shrugged. + +"It'll be easy. His outfit can prove it. He either quit it or didn't +join it in the morning. The p'lice'll get it out of them. When they +learn what's doing they won't be yearning to screen Murray. Specially +Keewin." + +"No. Keewin was Allan's best boy. Keewin would have given his life +for Allan." + +Kars drew a deep breath. He sat up and struck a match. His pipe began +to glow under his deep inhalations. He stood up and moved towards the +door. + +"It's the foulest thing I've ever heard. And--I guess you've got it +right, Bill," he admitted. "I allow we've done all we can. It's right +up to the p'lice." He abruptly turned, and his steady eyes stonily +regarded his friend. "He's got to hang for this. Get me? If the law +don't fix things that way, I swear before God I'll hunt his trail till +I get him cold--with my own hands." + +Bill's reply was a silent nod. He had nothing to add. He knew all +that was stirring beyond that stony regard, and his sympathies were in +full harmony. The bigness of these two men was unlimited by any of the +conventions of human civilization. They were too deeply steeped in the +teachings of the long trail to bow meekly to the laws set up by men. +Their doctrines were primitive, but they saw with wide eyes the justice +of the wild. + +Kars stood for a few moments lost in profound thought. Then he stirred +again and moved to depart. + +"Where you going?" Bill demanded, recalling himself from his own +contemplation. Kars turned again. + +"I'm going to hand over to Abe and the boys," he said. "They're +needing this thing. Guess I'm quit of Bell River. There's a wealth of +gold here'll set them crazy. And they can help 'emselves all they +choose. You and I, Bill, are going to see this thing through, and our +work don't quit till Murray's hanging by the neck. Then--then--why +then," a smile dawned in his eyes, and robbed them of that frigidity +which had so desperately held them, "then I'll ask you to help me fix +things with Father José so Jessie and I can break a new trail that +don't head out north of 'sixty.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL + +Bell River lay far behind. Leagues beyond the shadowy hills serrating +the purple horizon, it was lost like a bad dream yielding to the light +of day. + +For Kars the lure of it all was broken, broken beyond repair. The wide +expanses of the northland had become a desert in which life was no +longer endurable. The wind-swept crests, the undulating, barren plains +no longer spoke of a boundless freedom and the elemental battle. These +things had become something to forget in the absorbing claim of a life +to come, wherein the harshness of battle had no place. The darkling +woods, scarce trodden by the foot of man, no longer possessed the +mystic charm of childhood's fancy. The trackless wastes held only +threat, upon which watchful eyes would now gladly close. The stirring +glacial fields of summer, monsters of the ages, boomed out their +maledictions upon ears deaf to all their pristine wrath. The westward +streams and trail were alone desirable, for, at the end of these +things, the voice was calling. The voice of Life which every man must +ultimately hear and obey. + +Such was the mood of the man who for years had dreamed the dream of the +Northland; the bitter, free, remorseless Northland. To him she had +given of her best and fiercest. Battle and peace within her bosom had +been his. He was of the strong whom the Northland loves. She had +yielded him her all, a mistress who knows no middle course. And now he +was satiated. + +She had gambled for his soul. She had won and held it. And, in the +end, she had been forced to yield her treasure. Such is the fate of +the Northland wanton, bending to the will of Nature supreme. Her hold +is only upon superb youth, which must find outlet for its abounding +life. She has no power beyond. The ripening purpose of the Great +Creator thrusts her back upon herself, beaten, desolate. + +The elemental in Kars was still a great living force. That could never +change. Just now it was submerging in an ocean of new emotion he was +powerless to deny. The strength of his manhood was undiminished. It +was even greater for the revolution sweeping his estate. Just as the +passionate fire of his elemental nature had swept him all his years, so +now the claims of human love coursed through the strong life channels +which knew no half measure. Now he yearned for the gentler dream, even +as he had yearned for all that which can be claimed by strength alone. + +His whole being was centred upon the goal towards which he was +speeding. His light outfit was being driven by the speed of his desire. + +So Bell River was far behind. All the wide wastes of forest and hill, +of canyon and tundra, of glacier and torrent, had passed under his +feet. Now the swift waters of Snake River were speeding under driven +paddles. Another day and he would gaze once more into the sweet eyes +which meant for him the haven his soul so ardently craved. + +Bill Brudenell, too, had shaken himself free. The nauseating breath of +Bell River had driven him before it. He, too, had loved the North. +Perhaps he still loved his mistress, but he cursed her, too, and cursed +her beyond forgiveness or recall. His eyes were turned to the west, +like the eyes of his friend. But the only voice summoning him was the +voice of a spirit wearied with the contemplation of men's evil. This +was the final journey for him, and the long nights of the trail were +spent in a pleasant dreaming of sunlit groves, of warming climes. + +The faithful Charley was untouched by any gentler emotion. His crude +mind was beyond such. He was satisfied that his boss had given the +order to "mush." It mattered nothing to him if the journey ended at +the Pole. Perhaps he regretted the Indians left behind him alive. But +even so, there were compensations. Had he not a prisoner, a white man +under his charge? And had his boss not assured him that that prisoner +would hang by the neck at his journey's end? Yes, that was so. It +seemed almost a matter for regret to his unsophisticated understanding +that the hanging could not be done on the trail. That the joy of +performing the operation might not be his own reward for faithful +service. Still, his boss had spoken. It was sufficient. + +Night closed down within thirty miles of Fort Mowbray. An early camp +was made for food and rest. The journey was to go through the night +that it might be completed before dawn broke. + +In a few minutes the spiral of smoke from the camp-fire rose on the +still air, and helped dispel the attacks of the mosquitoes. Then came +the welcome smell of cooking. The Indian crew lolled about the +dew-laden bank with the unconcern and luxury of men whose iron muscles +are welcomely relaxed. One of their number was at the fire preparing +food, and Charley hectored whilst he superintended. Kars and Bill were +seated apart under the shelter of a bush. For the time they had charge +of their prisoner. + +Murray McTavish was unchanged in appearance, except that his smile had +died from his round face and his curious eyes shone with a look that +was daily growing more hunted. Nearly six weeks had passed since Kars' +bullet had crashed through his arm, and left a shattered limb behind +it. His final journey had had to be delayed while Bill had exercised +his skill in healing that the prisoner might face his ultimate ordeal +whole. Now the healing was nearing completion, but the irony of it all +lay in the fact that the prisoner's well-being was of necessity the +first thought of those who controlled the itinerary. + +From the moment of Murray's capture his attitude had become definite +and unchanging. His sufferings from his shattered arm were his own. +He gave vent to no complaint. He displayed no sign. A moody +preoccupation held him aloof from all that passed about him. He obeyed +orders, but his obedience was sullen and voiceless. + +But that which he refused to his captors by word of mouth, by action, +was there for the reading. His big eyes could not remain silent. The +mask-like smile was no longer part of him. The knowledge of his +defeat, and all its consequences, looked out of glowing depths which +shone with so mysterious a light. And daily the pages were turned for +the reading of the tragedy, the scenes of which were passing behind +them. Resolute in will he was powerless to deny emotion. And the eyes +which saw and watched, day and night, on the long journey, read with +perfect understanding. His mental sufferings were far beyond any that +his wounded body could have inspired. + +The westward goal for which his captors were making had a far different +meaning for him. He only saw in it the harvest of defeat, and all it +meant of human punishment. But far, far worse was the loss of all that +which he had labored to achieve through his crimes. Nor was the sting +of defeat lessened by the knowledge that it had been accomplished by +the one man he had instinctively feared from his first meeting with him. + +Now, as they waited while the Indian prepared a steaming supper of +rough but welcome food, the three men sat with the smoke of their pipes +doing battle with the mosquito hordes which cursed the country. + +For long it remained a silent gathering. Such is the way of the long +trail. Silence is the rule after the first routine has settled down. +A week of close companionship, where Nature's silences are deep and +unbroken, and all exchange of thought becomes exhausted. Only the +exigences of labor can excuse verbal intercourse. Otherwise it would +be intolerable. These three had labored long upon the trail in their +different spheres. They accepted every condition. + +The camp-fire threw its cheerful glow, and set the shadows dancing. +The moon had risen, a golden globe just hovering above the horizon. +Its yellow light searched out the three figures dimly, and the dancing +flames of the camp-fire supported its effort. + +Kars' eyes were directed upon the tongues of flame licking about the +camp-kettle. But they held in their focus the round, undiminished +figure over whom he sat ward. Bill sat facing the captive in full view +of the slung arm in its rough splints. Murray seemed to have no +concern for those about him. His haunted eyes were on the rising moon +disc, and his thoughts were on all those terrible problems confronting +him. + +He smoked from habit, but without appreciation. He could have no +appreciation now for bodily comfort when all mental peace was destroyed. + +His pipe went out and Bill held matches towards him. Silently, almost +automatically, he relit it, using his sound arm with the skill of weeks +of practice. + +He passed the matches back. He offered no thanks. Then, with a sudden +stirring of his unshapely body, he glanced swiftly in the direction of +Kars. A moment later he was gazing across at Bill and addressing him. + +"We'll make the Fort before sun-up?" he said. + +"Before daylight," came the prompt correction. + +Kars had abandoned his pleasant train of silent thought. His keen eyes +were alight with the reflection of the fire. They were searching the +prisoner's face for the meaning of his inquiry. + +"How long do we stop around?" + +Murray's voice was sharp. + +"We don't stop around." Again Bill's reply came on the instant, and in +tones that were coldly discouraging. + +"But I guess I need to collect things. My papers. Kit. I've a right +that way. You can't deny it," Murray protested swiftly. + +"You got no rights in this layout." It was Kars who replied. "You'll +pass right on down the river for Leaping Horse. And you aren't +stopping on the way to pay calls. Guess the p'lice in Leaping Horse +will allow you your rights. But there's nothing doing that way till +you're quit of this outfit." + +His decision was coldly final, but it was a blow in the face which the +murderer refused to accept. + +"You can't act that way," he protested fiercely. "You got a charge +against me you haven't proved, and I don't guess you ever will prove. +I'm a prisoner by force, not by law. I demand the right to decent +treatment. I need to get papers from the Fort. There's things there +to help my case. Maybe you figger to beat me through holding me from +my rights. It would rank well with the way you've already acted. I +need to see Father José and Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie----" + +"Cut that right out!" Kars' words came with a vicious snap. "You'll +see no one till you're in the hands of the Mounted P'lice at Leaping +Horse. That goes. I don't care a cuss for the law of this thing. +We'll fix that all later." + +Murray's burning eyes were furious as they searched the unyielding +features of his captor. His absolute impotence drove him to an insane +desire for violence. But the violence was not forthcoming. He was +powerless, and no one knew it better than he. + +"We surely will," he cried, hoarse with passion. "You can't prove a +thing. Allan was murdered by the neches. I was at the Fort with the +rest. You know that. Others can prove it." + +The fierce anger which the mention of Jessie's name had set leaping in +Kars' brain subsided as swiftly as it had risen. He sat silent for +some moments regarding the storm-swept features of the man whose crimes +had devastated the life of the girl he loved. His anger changed to an +added loathing. And his loathing inspired a desire to hurt, to hurt +mortally. + +This man as yet knew nothing of the discovery of his second crime. The +time had come when he must realize all that this thing meant to him. +There were weeks of journey yet before him. Kars knew no mercy. The +wild had taught him that mercy was only for the weak, for those who +erred through that weakness. This man was not of those. He was a +vicious criminal whose earthly reward would be inadequate to his crimes. + +"That won't help you a thing," he said frigidly. He knocked out his +pipe and thrust it into his pocket. His gaze was steadily fixed on the +eyes so furiously alight as they watched his every movement. "There's +more to this than the murder of Allan Mowbray, your share in which can +be proved clear out. Guess you've acted pretty bright, Murray. I +allow you've covered a whole heap of tracks. But you haven't covered +them all. Guess there never was a murderer born who knew how to cover +all his tracks. And it's just a mercy of Providence for the protection +of us folk. If you'd covered your last tracks you'd have dropped your +automatic in the Snake River, and lost it so deep in the mud it +wouldn't have been found in years. But you didn't act that way, and +that's why you're going to hang. You're going to hang for murdering +the son, as well as the father, and the whole blamed world'll breathe +freer for your hanging. Do you need me to tell you more? Do you need +me to tell you why you're not landing at the Fort? No, I guess not. +Your whole play is in our hands. You're here by force, sure, and by +force you're goin' to stay. Just as I guess by force you're going to +die. You've lived outside the law such a long spell I don't guess you +need teaching a thing. If we're acting outside the laws of man now, I +guess we're acting within the laws of justice. That's all that gets me +where you figger. I guess we'll eat. Charley'll know how to hand you +your food." + +The prisoner made no reply. It was the final blow. Kars had withheld +it till the psychological moment. He had withheld it, not with any +thought of mercy, but with a crude desire to punish when the hurt would +be the greatest. + +He had achieved more than he knew. Buoyed with the belief that his +earlier crime on Bell River had been so skilfully contrived that no +court of law could ever hope to convict him of a capital offence, +Murray McTavish had only endured the suspense and haunting fear of +uncertainty. Now he realized to the full the disaster that had +overtaken him. He was stunned by the blow that had fallen. + +The cooked meat that was passed to him by the Indian was left +untouched. The dark night journey passed before his wide, unsleeping +eyes as the canoes sped on towards the Fort. The last hope had been +torn from him. A dreadful waking nightmare pursued him. It was the +complete wrecking of a strong mentality, the shattering of an iron +nerve under a sledge-hammer blow that had been timed to the moment. He +might walk to the scaffold with a step that was outwardly firm. But it +would be merely the physical effort of a man in whom all hope is dead. + +So the Fort landing was reached and passed. Kars alone disembarked, +his canoe remaining ready to overhaul his companions at their next +night camp. He was going to tell his story to those who must learn the +truth. It was a mission from which he shrank, but he knew that his +lips alone must tell it. He hoped and believed it was the final act of +the drama these cruelly injured people must be forced to witness. Then +the gloomy curtain would be dropped, but to rise again on scenes of +sunlight and happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE SUMMER OF LIFE + +The passage of time for John Kars had never been so swift, so feverish +in the rush of poignant events. Four months had passed since he had +landed like a shadow in the night on the banks of Snake River, to tell +the story of men's evil to those to whom he would gladly have imparted +only happy tidings. + +Now he was at the landing again, with pages of tragic history turned in +his book of life. But they were turned completely, and only the memory +of them was left behind. The other pages, those remaining to be +perused, were different. They contained all those things without which +no life could ever be counted complete. That happiness which all must +seek, and the strong and wise will cling to, and only the weak and +foolish will make a plaything of. + +It was the crowning day of his life, and he desired to live every +moment of it. So he had left his bed under the hospitable roof of +Father José to witness the first moment of its birth. + +The first gray shadow lit the distant hilltops. To him it was like the +first stirring of broken slumber. Strange but familiar sounds broke +the profound stillness. The cry of belated beast, and the waking cries +of the feathered world. The light spread northward. It moved along +stealing, broadening towards the south. It mounted the vault of night. +Again, to him it was the growth of conscious life, the passing from +dream to reality. + +He saw the stubborn darkness yield reluctantly. He watched the silver +ghosts flee from the northern sky, back, back to the frigid bergs which +inspired their fantastic steps; the challenge hurled at the +star-world's complacent reign. Even the perfect burnish of the silver +moon was powerless before the victorious march of day. + +His spirit responded in perfect harmony. As the flush of victory +deepened it reminded him of all that a life of effort meant. The +myriad hues growing in the east were the symbol of human hope of +success so hardly striven. The massing billows, fantastic +cloud-shapes, rich in splendid habiliments, suggested the enthronement +of joy supreme. And then, in blazing splendor, the golden rising sun +pointed the achievement of that perfect happiness which the merciful +Creator designs for every living creature. + +It was a moment when there should have been no room for shadowed +memory. It was a moment when only the great looking forward should +have filled him. But the strong soul of the man had been deeply seared +by the conflict which had been fought and won. In the midst of all the +emotion of that day of days memory would not wholly be denied, and he +dwelt upon those events of which he had read so deeply in the pages of +his book of life. + +For all his desire to forget, the rapid moving scenes of the summer +days came back to him now, vivid, painful. It was as though the pure +search-light of dawn had a power of revealing no less than its +inspiration of hope and delight. He contemplated afresh his journey +down the river with his prisoner and his loyal friends. He remembered +his landing on that very spot when sleep wrapped the Mission of St. +Agatha, as it did now. He thought of his first visit to the Padre, and +of his ultimate telling of his story to the two women who had suffered +so deeply at the hands of the murderer. It had been painful. Yet it +had not been without a measure of compensation. Had he not run the man +to earth? And was not the avenging of the girl he loved yet to come? +Yes, this had been so, and he dwelt on the courage and patience which +governed the simple women who listened to the details of man's +merciless villainy. + +The story told, then had come the great looking forward. His work +completed, he had promised that not a consideration in the world should +stay his feet from the return. And Jessie had yielded to his urgency. +On that return she would give herself to him, and the beloved Padre +should bless their union in the little Mission House. Then had come +the mother's renunciation of all the ties which had so long held her to +the banks of the Snake River. Happiness had been hers in the long +years of her life there, but the overwhelming shadow of suffering +weighed her down completely now, and she would gladly renounce the home +which had known her so long. + +So it had been arranged under the strong purpose the man had put forth, +and, in consequence, added energy was flung into his labors. That +night his canoe glided from the landing, and he was accompanied by +Keewin, and two other Indians, who had been witnesses of Murray's +movements on the day of the murder in Leaping Horse. + +The memory of these things carried him on to his journey's end where he +encountered again the tawdry pretentiousness of Leaping Horse, seeking +to hide its moral poverty under raiment of garish hue. He remembered +the anxious, busy days when the machinery of outland justice creaked +rustily under his efforts to persuade it into full and perfect motion. +The labor of it. How Bill Brudenell had labored. The staunch efforts +of the Mounted Police. And all the time the dread of a breakdown in +the rusted machinery, and the escape of the murderer from the just +penalty of his crimes. + +None knew better than Kars the nearness of that disaster. Money had +flowed like water in the interests of the accused. It had +correspondingly had to flow in the interests of the prosecution. The +tradition of Leaping Horse had been maintained throughout the whole +trial. And loathing and disgust colored his every recollection. The +defending counsel had set out to buy and corrupt. Kars had accepted +the challenge without scruple. The case was one of circumstance, +circumstance that was overwhelming. But the power of money in Leaping +Horse was tremendous. The verdict remained uncertain to the last +moment. Perhaps the balance was turned through weight of money. Kars +cared very little. The Jesuitical method of it all was a matter for +scruple. And scruple was banished completely from this battle-field. + +And Justice had won. Whatever the method, Justice had won. The relief +of it. The cold reward. Allan Mowbray was avenged. Jessie and her +mother were freed from the threat which had so long over-shadowed their +lives. The bitter air of the northland had been cleansed of a +pestilential breath. So he turned his back on Leaping Horse with the +knowledge that the murderer would pay his penalty before God and man. + +Nor was the whole thing without a curiously grim irony. Even while +Murray McTavish was fighting for his life he was witness of the +complete shattering of all that for which he had striven. His trial +revealed to the world the secret which his every effort had sought to +keep inviolate, and the horde of vultures from the gold city were +breaking the trail in their surging lust. Word flashed down the +boulevards. It flew through the slums. It sung on the wires to the +rail-heads at the coast. It reached the wealthy headquarters at +Seattle. Thence it journeyed on the wings of cable and wire to every +corner of the world. And the message only told the fabulous stories of +the new strike on Bell River. The world was left all unconcerned with +the crimes it had inspired. + +The scenes of the early days were renewed. Nor was there any great +difference from them. It was a pell-mell rush. Incompetent, harpy, +"sharp" and the gold seeker of substance. It was a train of the +northland flotsam, moving again without scruple or mercy. Kars watched +its beginning. He understood. None could understand this sort of +thing better. All his life had been spent in the midst of such +conditions. The thing had been bound to come, and he was frankly glad +that those who had served him so well were already in possession of all +they required in the new Eldorado. + +How the "rush" ultimately fared he neither knew nor seriously cared. +It had no concern for him. The lust of gold had completely passed from +him. All he cared was that it had left Fort Mowbray untouched. The +overland route had suited the needs of these folk best. It was +shorter, and therein lay its claim. The waterways which would have +brought pandemonium to the doors of the folk he loved were circuitous, +and the double burden of water and land transport would have been a +hindrance in the crazy haste of the reckless souls seeking fortune in a +whirlwind of desire. + +So the girl he loved was saved the contamination from which he desired +to shield her. So the pristine calm of the Mission of St. Agatha was +left unbroken. Father José was left to his snuff-box and his mission +of mercy. And Kars was glad. + +His work was done. And now, on this day of days, as he watched its +splendid birth, he thanked his God that the contamination of the gold +world which had so long overshadowed would no longer threaten the life +of the girl who was to be given into his keeping before its close. + +The sun cleared the sky-line, a molten, magnificent spectacle. And as +it rose the multi-hued escort of cloud fell away. Its duty was done. +It had launched the God of day upon its merciful task for mankind. It +would go, waiting to conduct him to his nightly couch at the other side +of the world. + +Kars drew a deep breath. The draught of morning air was nectar to his +widely expanding lungs. Realization of happiness rarely comes till it +is past. Kars was realizing it to the full. + +His eyes turned from the splendid vision. The landing was crowded with +craft. But it was not the craft of trade which usually gathered at the +close of summer. It was his own outfit, largely augmented. And it was +deeply laden. + +He dwelt upon it for some moments. Its appeal held him fascinated. A +week had been spent upon the lading, a week of unalloyed happiness and +deeply sentimental care. These were canoes laden with the many +household goods and treasures of the feminine hearts who were about to +take their places in his life. Those slight, graceful vessels +contained a hundred memories of happiness and pain carefully taken from +the settings to which they had so long been bound. He knew that they +represented the yielding up of long years of treasured life upon the +altar of sacrifice his coming had set up. He had no other feeling than +thankfulness and tenderness. It stirred every fibre of his manhood to +its depths. + +His happy contemplation was suddenly broken. A sound behind him caught +his quick ears. In a moment he had turned, and, in that moment, the +deep happiness of his communing became a living fire of delight. + +Jessie was standing in the mouth of the avenue which led down from the +clearing. She stood there framed in the setting of ripe summer +foliage, already tinging with the hues of fall. Her ruddy brown hair +was without covering, and her tall slim figure was wrapped in an ample +fur-lined cloak which reached to her feet. Kars recognized the garment +as something he had dared to purchase for her in Leaping Horse, to keep +her from the night and morning chills on the journey from the Fort. In +his eyes she made a picture beyond all compare. Her soft cheeks were +tinted with a blush of embarrassment, and her smiling eyes were shyly +regarding him. + +He strode up to her, his arms outheld. The girl yielded to his embrace +on the instant, and then hastily released herself, and glanced about +her in real apprehension. + +Kars smilingly shook his head. + +"There's no one around," he comforted her. + +"Are you quite sure?" + +"Quite." + +The girl led the way back to the landing. + +"Tell me," she cried, glancing half shyly up at the strong, smiling +face that contained in its rugged molding the whole meaning of life to +her. "What--why are you down here--now?" + +The man's responsive smile was half shamefaced. He shook his head. + +"I can't just say. Maybe it's the same reason you're around." + +"Oh, I just came along to look at things." + +Kars' embarrassment passed. He laughed buoyantly. + +"That's how I felt. I needed to look at--things." + +"What things?" + +The girl pressed him. Her great love demanded confession of those +inner feelings and thoughts a man can so rarely express. Kars resorted +to subterfuge. + +"You see, I'm responsible to you and your mother for the outfit. I had +to see nothing's amiss. There won't be a heap of time later, and we +start right out by noon. You can trust Bill most all the time. And +Charley's no fool on the trail. But I had to get around." + +"So you got up before the sun to see to it." + +Kars laughed again. + +"Yes. Same as you." + +The girl shook her head. + +"Say, it won't do. I'll--I'll be frank. Yes. I was awake. Wide +awake--hours. I just couldn't lie there waiting--waiting. I had to +get around. I had to look at it all--again. Say, John, dear, it's our +great day. The greatest in all life for us. And all this means--means +just a great big whole world. So I stole out of the house, and hurried +along to look at it. Am I foolish? Am I just a silly, sentimental +girl? I--I--couldn't help it. True." + +They were standing at the edge of the landing. The speeding waters +were lapping gently at the prows of the moored craft under pressure of +the light morning breeze. The groans of the summer-racked glacier +across the river rumbled sonorously, accentuating the virgin peace of +the world about them. The insect world was already droning its +day-long song, and the cries of the feathered world came from the +distance. + +The girl's appeal was irresistible. Kars caught her in his arms, and +his passionate kisses rained on her upturned face. All the ardor of +his strong soul gazed down into her half-closed eyes in those moments +of rapture. + +"You couldn't help it? No more could I," he cried, yielding all +restraint before the passion of that moment. "I had to get around. I +had to see the day from its beginning. Same as I want to see it to its +end. Great? Why, it's everything to me--to us, little Jessie. I want +it all--all. I wouldn't miss a second of its time. I watched the +first streak of the dawn, and I've seen the sun get up full of fire and +glory. And that's just how this day is to us. Think of it, little +girl, think of it. By noon you'll be my wife--my wife. And after, +after we've eaten, and Father José and Bill have said their pieces, +we'll be setting out down the river with all the folks we care for, for +a new, big, wide world, and the wide open trail of happiness waiting +for us. If it wasn't I'm holding you right now in my arms I guess +it--it would be incredible." + +But the girl had suddenly remembered the possibility of prying eyes. +With obvious reluctance she released herself from the embrace she had +no desire to deny. + +"Yes," she breathed, "it's almost--incredible." Then with a sudden +passionate abandon she held out her arms as though to embrace all that +which told her of her joy. "But it's real, real. I'm glad--so glad." + +It was a scene which had for its inspiration a world of the gentler +human emotions. + +The laden canoes had added their human freight. Each was manned by its +small dusky crew, Indians tried in the service of the long trail, men +of the Mission, and men who had learned to regard John Kars as a great +white chief. It was an expedition that had none of the grim +earnestness of the long trail. The dusky Indians, even, were imbued +with the spirit of the moment. Every one of these people had witnessed +the wonderful ceremonial of a white man's mating, the whole Mission had +been feasted on white man's fare. Now the landing was thronged for the +departure. Women, and men, and children. They were gathered there for +the final Godspeed. + +Peigan Charley was consumed with his authority over the vessels which +led the way, bearing the baggage of the party. He was part of the +white man's life, therefore his contempt for the simple awe of the rest +of his race, at the witnessing of the wedding ceremony, still claimed +his profoundest "damn-fool." Never were his feelings of superiority +more deeply stirred. + +Bill Brudenell piloted the vessel which bore Ailsa Mowbray towards the +new life for which she had renounced her old home. Kars and his bride +were the last in the procession, as the vessels swept out into the +stream under the powerful strokes of the paddles. + +It was an unforgetable moment for all. For the women it had perhaps an +even deeper meaning than for any one else. It was happiness and regret +blended in a confused tangle. But it was a tangle which time would +completely unravel, and, flinging aside all regret, would set happiness +upon its throne. For Bill it was the great desire of his life +fulfilled. His friend, the one man above all others he regarded, had +finally stepped upon the path he had always craved for him. For +himself? His years were passing. There was still work to be done in +the unsavory purlieus of Leaping Horse. + +For John Kars it was a moment of the profoundest, unalloyed joy. No +searching of his emotions could have revealed anything but the +wholesome feelings of a man who has achieved his destiny in those +things which the God of All has set out for human desire. The world +lay all before him. Wealth was his, and, in his frail barque, setting +out upon the waters of destiny, was the wife he had won for himself +from the bosom of the desolate north. + +Father José, gray headed, aged in the long years of a life of +sacrifice, stood at the forefront of the landing as the procession +glided out on to the bosom of the stream. Simple in spirit, single in +purpose, he regarded the going with the calmness which long years of +trial had imposed upon him. His farewell was smiling. It was deep +with truth and feeling. He knew it was the close of a long chapter in +the book of his life's effort. He accepted it, and turned the page. + +But for all the great gathering of his Mission about him he was a +lonely little figure, and the sigh which followed his voiceless +blessing came from a loyal heart which knew no other purpose than to +continue to the end its work of patient, unremitting mercy. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS*** + + +******* This file should be named 19064-8.txt or 19064-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Triumph of John Kars</p> +<p> A Story of the Yukon</p> +<p>Author: Ridgwell Cullum</p> +<p>Release Date: August 16, 2006 [eBook #19064]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="The defenders were reduced to four." BORDER="2" WIDTH="395" HEIGHT="567"> +<H3> +[Frontispiece: The defenders were reduced to four.] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A Story of the Yukon +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY RIDGWELL CULLUM +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR> +"The Golden Woman," "The Son of His Father," <BR> +"The Way of the Strong," "The Men Who Wrought" +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLORS +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A. L. BURT COMPANY +<BR> +Publishers ———— New York +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY +<BR> +GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY +<BR><BR> +<I>All rights reserved</I> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Contents +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">AT FORT MOWBRAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE LETTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">ON BELL RIVER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">IN THE NIGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">JOHN KARS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">TWO MEN OF THE NORTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE MAN WITH THE SCAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE SECRET OF THE GORGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE FALL TRADE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">FATHER JOSÉ PROBES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">A MAN AND A MAID</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">ON THE NORTHERN SEAS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">AT THE GRIDIRON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">DR. BILL INVESTIGATES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">IN THE SPRINGTIME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">THE OUT-WORLD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">THE DEPUTATION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">THE HARVEST OF BATTLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">THE LAP OF THE GODS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">THE END OF THE TERROR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">THE SUMMER OF LIFE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Triumph of John Kars +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT FORT MOWBRAY +</H3> + +<P> +Murray McTavish was seated at a small table, green-baized, littered +with account-books and a profusion of papers. But he was not regarding +these things. Instead, his dark, intelligent eyes were raised to the +smallish, dingy window in front of him, set in its deep casing of +centuries-old logs. Nor was the warm light shining in his eyes +inspired by the sufficiently welcome sunlight beyond. His gaze was +entirely absorbed by a fur-clad figure, standing motionless in the open +jaws of the gateway of the heavily timbered stockade outside. +</P> + +<P> +It was the figure of a young woman. A long coat of beaver skin, and a +cap of the same fur pressed down low over her ruddy brown hair, held +her safe from the bitter chill of the late semi-arctic fall. She, too, +was absorbed in the scene upon which she was gazing. +</P> + +<P> +Her soft eyes, so gray and gentle, searched the distance. The hills, +snow-capped and serrated. The vast incline of ancient glacier, rolling +backwards and upwards in discolored waves from the precipitate opposite +bank of Snake River. The woods, so darkly overpowering as the year +progressed towards its old age. The shaking tundra, treacherous and +hideous with rank growths of the summer. The river facets of broken +crags awaiting the cloak of winter to conceal their crude nakedness. +Then the trail, so slight, so faint. The work of sleds and moccasined +feet through centuries of native traffic, with the occasional variation +of the hard shod feet of the white adventurer. +</P> + +<P> +She knew it all by heart. She read it all with the eyes of one who has +known no other outlook since first she opened them upon the world. +Yes, she knew it all. But that which she did not know she was seeking +now. Beyond all things, at that moment, she desired to penetrate some +of the secrets that lay beyond her grim horizon. +</P> + +<P> +Her brows were drawn in a slight frown. The questions she was asking +peeped out of the depths of her searching eyes. And they were the +questions of a troubled mind. +</P> + +<P> +A step sounded behind her, but she did not turn. A moment later the +voice of Murray McTavish challenged her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +The brief demand was gentle enough, yet it contained a sort of playful +irony, which, at the moment, Jessie Mowbray resented. She turned. +There was impatience in the eyes which confronted him. She regarded +him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"Why? It's always <I>why</I>—with you, when feelings get the better of me. +Maybe you never feel dread, or doubt, or worry. Maybe you never feel +anything—human. Say, you're a man and strong. I'm just a woman, +and—and he's my father. He's overdue by six weeks. He's not back +yet, and we've had no word from him all summer." +</P> + +<P> +Her impatience became swallowed up by her anxiety again. The appeal of +her manner, her beauty were not lost upon the man. +</P> + +<P> +"So you stand around looking at the trail he needs to come over, +setting up a fever of trouble for yourself figgering on the traps and +things nature's laid out for us folk beyond those hills. Guess that's +a woman sure." +</P> + +<P> +Hot, impatient words rose to the girl's lips, but she choked them back. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't argue it," she cried, a little desperately. "Father should +have been back six weeks ago. You know that. He isn't back. Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Allan and I have run this old post ten years," Murray said soberly. +"In those ten years there's not been a single time that Allan's hit the +northern trail on a trade when he's got back to time by many +weeks—generally more than six. It don't seem to me I've seen his +little girl standing around same as she's doing now—ever before." +</P> + +<P> +The girl drew her collar up about her neck. The gesture was a mere +desire for movement. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I've never felt as I do now," she said miserably. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's words came in a sudden passionate rush. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's no use!" she cried. "You wouldn't understand. You're a good +partner. You're a big man on the trail. Guess there's no bigger men +on the trail than you and father—unless it's John Kars. But you all +fight with hard muscle. You figure out the sums as you see them. You +don't act as women do when they don't know. I've got it all here," she +added, pressing her fur mitted hands over her bosom, her face flushed +and her eyes shining with emotion. "I know, I feel there's something +amiss. I've never felt this way before. Where is he? Where did he go +this time? He never tells us. You never tell us. We don't know. +Can't help be sent? Can't I go with an outfit and search for him?" +</P> + +<P> +The man's smile had died out. His big eyes, strange, big dark eyes, +avoided the girl's. They turned towards the desolate, sunlit horizon. +His reply was delayed as though he were seeking what best to say. +</P> + +<P> +The girl waited with what patience she could summon. She was born and +bred to the life of this fierce northern world, where women look to +their men for guidance, where they are forced to rely upon man's +strength for life itself. +</P> + +<P> +She gazed upon the round profile, awaiting that final word which she +felt must be given. Murray McTavish was part of the life she lived on +the bitter heights of the Yukon territory. In her mind he was a +fixture of the fort which years since had been given her father's name. +He was a young man, a shade on the better side of thirty-five, but he +possessed none of the features associated with the men of the trail. +His roundness was remarkable, and emphasized by his limited stature. +His figure was the figure of a middle-aged merchant who has spent his +life in the armchair of a city office. His neck was short and fat. +His face was round and full. The only feature he possessed which +lifted him out of the ruck of the ordinary was his eyes. These were +unusual enough. There was their great size, and a subtle glowing fire +always to be discovered in the large dark pupils. They gave the man a +suggestion of tremendous passionate impulse. One look at them and the +insignificant, the commonplace bodily form was forgotten. An +impression of flaming energy supervened. The man's capacity for +effort, physical or mental, for emotion, remained undoubted. +</P> + +<P> +But Jessie Mowbray was too accustomed to the man to dwell on these +things, to notice them. His easy, smiling, good-natured manner was the +man known to the inhabitants of Fort Mowbray, and the Mission of St. +Agatha on the Snake River. +</P> + +<P> +The man's reply came at last. It came seriously, earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't guess how this notion's got into you, Jessie," he said, his +eyes still dwelling on the broken horizon. "Allan's the hardest man in +the north—not even excepting John Kars, who's got you women-folk +mesmerized. Allan's been traipsing this land since two years before +you were born, and that is more than twenty years ago. There's not a +hill, or valley, or river he don't know like a school kid knows its +alphabet. Not an inch of this devil's playground for nigh a range of +three hundred miles. There isn't a trouble on the trail he's not been +up against, and beat every time. And now—why, now he's got a right +outfit with him, same as always, you're worrying. Say, there's only +one thing I can figger to beat Allan Mowbray on the trail. It would +need to be Indians, and a biggish outfit of them. Even then I'd bet my +last nickel on him." He shook his head with decision. "No, I guess +he'll be right along when his work's through." +</P> + +<P> +"And his work?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's tone was one of relief. Murray's confidence was infectious +in spite of her instinctive fears. +</P> + +<P> +The man shrugged his fleshy shoulders under his fur-lined pea-jacket. +</P> + +<P> +"Trade, I guess. We're not here for health. Allan don't fight the +gods of the wilderness or the legion of elemental devils who run this +desert for the play of it. No, this country breeds just one race. +First and last we're wage slaves. Maybe we're more wage slaves north +of 60 degrees than any dull-witted toiler taking his wage by the hour, +and spending it at the end of each week. We're slaves of the big +money, and every man, and many of the women, who cross 60 degrees are +ready to stake their souls as well as bodies, if they haven't already +done so, for the yellow dust that's to buy the physic they'll need to +keep their bodies alive later when they've turned their backs on a +climate that was never built for white men." +</P> + +<P> +Then the seriousness passed for smiling good-nature. It was the look +his round face was made for. It was the manner the girl was accustomed +to. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess this country's a pretty queer book to read," he went on. "And +there aren't any pictures to it, either. Most of us living up here +have opened its covers, and some of us have read. But I guess Allan's +read deeper than any of us. I'd say he's read deeper even than John +Kars. It's for that reason I sold my interests in Seattle an' joined +him ten years ago in the enterprise he'd set up here. It's been tough, +but it's sure been worth it," he observed reflectively. "Yep. Sure it +has." He sighed in a satisfied way. Then his smile deepened, and the +light in his eyes glowed with something like enthusiasm. "Think of it. +You can trade right here just how you darn please. You can make your +own laws, and abide by 'em or break 'em just as you get the notion. +Think of it, we're five hundred miles, five hundred miles of fierce +weather, and the devil's own country, from the coast. We're three +hundred miles from the nearest law of civilization. And, as for +newspapers and the lawmakers, they're fifteen hundred miles of tempest +and every known elemental barrier away. We're kings in our own +country—if we got the nerve. And we don't need to care a whoop so the +play goes on. Can you beat it? No. And Allan knows it all—all. +He's the only man who does—for all your John Kars. I'm glad. Say, +Jessie, it's dead easy to face anything if you feel—just glad." +</P> + +<P> +As he finished speaking the eyes which had held the girl were turned +towards the gray shadows eastward. He was gazing out towards that far +distant region of the Mackenzie River which flowed northwards to empty +itself into the ice-bound Arctic Ocean. But he was not thinking of the +river. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie was relieved at her escape from his masterful gaze. But she was +glad of his confidence and unquestioned strength. It helped her when +she needed help, and some of her shadows had been dispelled. +</P> + +<P> +"I s'pose it's as you say," she returned without enthusiasm. "If my +daddy's safe that's all I care. Mother's good. I just love her. +And—Alec, he's a good boy. I love my mother and my brother. But +neither of them could ever replace my daddy. Yes, I'll be glad for him +to get back. Oh, so glad. When—when d'you think that'll be?" +</P> + +<P> +"When his work's through." +</P> + +<P> +"I must be patient. Say, I wish I'd got nerve." +</P> + +<P> +The man laughed pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess what a girl needs is for her men-folk to have nerve," he said. +"I don't know 'bout your brother Alec, but your father—well, he's got +it all." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's eyes lit. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said simply. Then, with a glance westwards at the dying +daylight, she went on: "We best get down to the Mission. Supper'll be +waiting." +</P> + +<P> +Murray nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. We'll get right along." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA +</H3> + + +<P> +A haunting silence prevails in the land beyond the barrier of the Yukon +watershed. It is a world apart, beyond, and the other land, the land +where the battle of civilization still fluctuates, still sways under +the violent passions of men, remains outside. +</P> + +<P> +Its fascination is beyond all explanation. Yet it is as great as its +conditions are merciless. Murray McTavish had sought the explanation, +and found it in the fact that it was a land in which man could make his +own laws and break them at his pleasure. Was this really its +fascination? Hardly. The explanation must surely lie in something +deeper. Surely the primitive in man, which no civilization can +out-breed, would be the better answer. +</P> + +<P> +In Allan Mowbray's case this was definitely so. Murray McTavish had +served his full apprenticeship where the laws of civilization prevail. +His judgment could scarcely be accepted in a land where only the strong +may survive. +</P> + +<P> +The difference between the two men was as wide as the countries which +had bred them, and furthermore Allan had survived on the banks of the +Snake River for upwards of twenty-five years. For twenty-five years he +had lived the only life that appealed to his primitive instincts and +powers. And before that he had never so much as peeped beyond the +watershed at the world outside. His whole life was instinct with +courage. His years had been years of struggle and happiness, years in +which a loyal and devoted wife had shared his every disappointment and +success, years in which he had watched his son and daughter grow to the +ripeness of full youth. +</P> + +<P> +The whole life of these people was a simple enough story of passionate +energy, and a slow, steady-growing prosperity, built out of a +wilderness where a moment's weakness would have yielded them complete +disaster. But they were merciless upon their own powers. They knew +the stake, and played for all. The man played for the tiny lives which +had come to cheer his resting moments, and the defenceless woman who +had borne them. The woman supported him with a loyal devotion and +courage that was invincible. +</P> + +<P> +For years Allan Mowbray had scoured the country in search of his trade. +His outfit was known to every remote Indian race, east and west, and +north—always north. His was a figure that haunted the virgin +woodlands, the broad rivers, the unspeakable wastes of silence at all +times and seasons. Even the world outside found an echo of his labors. +</P> + +<P> +These two had fought their battle unaided from the grim shelter of Fort +Mowbray. And, in the clearing of St. Agatha's Mission, at the foot of +the bald knoll, upon the summit of which the old Fort stood, their +infrequent moments of leisure were spent in the staunch log hut which +the man had erected for the better comfort of his young children. +</P> + +<P> +Then had come the greater prosperity. It was the time of a prosperity +upon which the simple-minded fur-hunter had never counted. The Fort +became a store for trade. It was no longer a mere headquarters where +furs were made ready for the market. Trade developed. Real trade. +And Allan was forced to change his methods. The work was no longer +possible single-handed. The claims of the trail suddenly increased, +and both husband and wife saw that their prospects had entirely +outgrown their calculations. +</P> + +<P> +Forthwith long council was taken between them. Either the trail, with +its possibilities, which had suddenly become an enormous factor in +their lives, or the store at the Fort, which was almost equally +important, must be abandoned, or a partner must be found and taken. +Allan Mowbray was not the man to yield a detail of the harvest he had +so laboriously striven for. So decision fell upon the latter course. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish was not twenty-five when he arrived at the Fort. He +was a man of definite personality and was consumed with an abundance of +determination and resource. His inclination to stoutness was even then +pronounced. But above all stood out his profound, concentrated +understanding of American commercial methods, and the definite, almost +fixed smile of his deeply shining eyes. +</P> + +<P> +There was never a doubt of the wisdom of Allan's choice from the moment +of his arrival. Murray plunged himself unreservedly into the work of +the enterprise, searching its possibilities with a keenly businesslike +eye, and he saw that they had been by no means overestimated by his +partner. There was no delay. With methods of smiling "hustle" he took +charge of the work at the Fort, and promptly released the overburdened +Allan for the important work of the trail. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was Ailsa Mowbray the least affected by the new partner's coming. +It was early made clear that her years of labor were at last to yield +her that leisure she craved for the upbringing of her little family, +which was, even now, receiving education under the cultured guidance of +the little French-Canadian priest who had set up his Mission in this +wide wilderness. For the first time in all her married life she found +herself free to indulge in the delights of a domesticity her woman's +heart desired. +</P> + +<P> +It was about the end of the summer, after Murray's coming to the Fort, +that an element of trouble began to disquiet the peace of the Mission +on Snake River. It almost seemed as if the change from the old +conditions had broken the spell of the years of calm which had +prevailed. Yet the trouble was remote enough. Furthermore it seemed +natural enough. +</P> + +<P> +First came rumor. It traveled the vast, silent places in that +mysterious fashion which never seems clearly accounted for. Well over +a hundred and fifty miles of mountain, and valley, and trackless +woodlands separated the Fort from the great Mackenzie River, yet, on +the wings of the wind, it seemed, was borne a story of war, of +massacre, of savage destruction. The hitherto peaceful fishing Indians +of Bell River had suddenly become the hooligans of the north. They +were carrying fire and slaughter to all lesser Indian settlements +within a radius of a hundred miles of their own sombre valley. +</P> + +<P> +The Fort was disturbed. The whole Mission struck a note of panic. +Father José saw grave danger for his small flock of Indian converts. +He remembered the white woman and her children, too. He was seriously +alarmed. Allan was away, so he sought the advice of those remaining. +Murray was untried in the conditions of the life of the country, but +Ailsa Mowbray possessed all the little man's confidence. +</P> + +<P> +In the end, however, it was Murray who decided. He took upon himself +the position of leader in his partner's absence, and claimed the right +to probe the trouble to its depths. The priest and Ailsa yielded +reluctantly. They, at least, understood the risk of his inexperience. +But Murray forcefully rejected any denial, and, with characteristic +energy, and no little skill, he gathered an outfit together and +promptly set out for Bell River. +</P> + +<P> +It was the one effort needed to assure him of his permanent place in +the life of the Fort on Snake River. It left him no longer an untried +recruit, but a soldier in the battle of the wilderness. +</P> + +<P> +A month later he returned from his perilous enterprise with his work +well and truly done. The information he brought was comprehensive and +not without comfort. The Bell River Indians had certainly taken to the +war-path. But it was only in defence of their fishing on the river +which meant their whole existence. They were defending it +successfully, but, in their success, their savage instincts had run +amuck. Not content with slaying the invaders they had annexed their +enemy's property and squaws. Then, with characteristic ruthlessness, +they had set about carrying war far and near, but only amongst the +Indians. Their efforts undoubtedly had a dual purpose, The primary +object was the satisfying of a war lust suddenly stirred into being in +savage hearts by their first successes. The other was purely politic. +They meant to establish a terror, and so safeguard their food supplies +for all time. +</P> + +<P> +Murray's story was complete. It was thorough. It had not been easy. +His capacity henceforth became beyond all question. +</P> + +<P> +So the cloud passed for the moment. But it did not disappear. The +people at the Fort, even Allan Mowbray, himself, when he returned, +dismissed the matter without further consideration. He laughed at the +panic which had arisen in his absence, while yet he commended Murray's +initiative and courage. +</P> + +<P> +After the first lull, however, fresh stories percolated through. They +reached the Fort again and again, at varying intervals, until the Bell +River Valley became a black, dangerous spot in the minds of all people, +and both Indians, and any chance white adventurer, who sought shelter +at the Fort, received due warning to avoid this newly infected plague +spot. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly ten years since these things had occurred. And during +all that time the primitive life on the banks of Snake River had +continued to progress in its normal calm. Each year brought its added +prosperity, which found little enough outward display beyond the +constant bettering of trade conditions which went on under Murray's +busy hands. A certain added comfort reached the mother's home in the +Mission clearing. But otherwise the outward and visible signs of the +wealth that was being stored up were none. +</P> + +<P> +Father José's Mission grew in extent. The clearing widened and the +numbers of savage converts increased definitely. The charity and +medical skill of the little priest, and the Mission's adjacency to a +big trading post, were responsible for drawing about the place every +begging Indian and the whole of his belongings. The old man received +them, and his benefits were placed at their service; the only return he +demanded was an attendance at his religious services, and that the +children should be sent to the classes which he held in the Mission +House. It was a pastoral that held every element of beauty, but as an +anachronism in the fierce setting north of "sixty" it was even more +perfect. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray looked on at all these things in his brief enough +leisure. Nor was he insensible to the changed conditions of comfort in +his own home, due to the persistent genius of his partner. The old, +rough furnishings had gone to be replaced by modern stuff, which must +have demanded a stupendous effort in haulage from the gold city of +Leaping Horse, nearly three hundred miles distant. But Ailsa was +pleased. That was his great concern. Ailsa was living the life he had +always desired for her, and he was free to roam the wilderness at his +will. He blessed the day that had brought Murray McTavish into the +enterprise. +</P> + +<P> +Just now Allan had been away from the Fort nearly the whole of the open +season. His return was awaited by all. These journeys of his brought, +as a result, a rush of business to the Fort, and an added life to the +Mission. Then there was the mother, and her now grown children, +waiting to welcome the man who was their all. +</P> + +<P> +But Allan Mowbray had not yet returned, and Jessie, young, impulsive, +devoted, was living in a fever of apprehension such as her experienced +mother never displayed. +</P> + +<P> +Supper was ready at the house when Murray and Jessie arrived from the +Fort. Ailsa Mowbray was awaiting them. She regarded them smilingly as +they came. Her eyes, twins, in their beauty and coloring, with her +daughter's, were full of that quiet patience which years of struggle +had inspired. For all she was approaching fifty, she was a handsome, +erect woman, taller than the average, with a figure of physical +strength quite unimpaired by the hard wear of that bitter northern +world. Her greeting was the greeting of a mother, whose chief concern +is the bodily welfare of her children, and a due regard for her +domestic arrangements. +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie's young yet, and maybe that accounts for a heap. But you, +Murray, being a man, ought to know when it's food time. I guess it's +been waiting a half hour. Come right in, and we'll get on without +waiting for Alec. The boy went out with his gun, an' I don't think +we'll see him till he's ready." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's serious eyes had caught her mother's attention. Ailsa Mowbray +possessed all a mother's instinct. Her watch over her pretty daughter, +though unobtrusive, was never for a moment relaxed. Some day she +supposed the child would have to marry. Well, the choice was small +enough. It scarcely seemed a thing to concern herself with. But she +did. And her feelings and opinions were very decided. +</P> + +<P> +Murray smilingly accepted the blame for their tardiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it's up to me," he said. "You see, Jessie was good enough to +let me yarn about the delights of this slice of God's country. Well, +when a feller gets handing out his talk that way to a bright girl, who +doesn't find she's got a previous engagement elsewhere, he's liable to +forget such ordinary things as mere food." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mowbray nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way of it—sure. Specially when you haven't cooked it," +she said, with a smile that robbed her words of all reproach. +</P> + +<P> +She turned to pass within the rambling, log-built house. But at that +moment two dogs raced round the angle of the building and fawned up to +her, completely ignoring the others. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess Alec's—ready," was Murray's smiling comment. +</P> + +<P> +There was a shadow of irony in the man's words, which made the mother +glance up quickly from the dogs she was impartially caressing. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said simply, and without warmth. Her regard though +momentary was very direct. +</P> + +<P> +Murray turned away as the sound of voices followed in the wake of the +dogs. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he cried, in a startled fashion. "Here's Father José, +and—Keewin!" +</P> + +<P> +"Keewin?" +</P> + +<P> +It was Jessie who echoed the name. But her mother had ceased caressing +the dogs. She stood very erect, and quite silent. +</P> + +<P> +Three men turned the corner of the house. Alec came first. He was +tall, a fair edition of his mother, but without any of the strength of +character so plainly written on her handsome features. Only just +behind him came Father José and an Indian. +</P> + +<P> +The Padre of the Mission was a white-haired, white-browed man of many +years and few enough inches. His weather-stained face, creased like +parchment, was lit by a pair of piercing eyes, which were full of fire +and mental energy. But, for the moment, no one had eyes for anything +but the stoic placidity of the expressionless features of the Indian. +The man's forehead was bound with a blood-stained bandage of dirty +cloth. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray's gentle eyes widened. Her firm lips perceptibly +tightened. Direct as a shot came her inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"What's amiss?" she demanded. +</P> + +<P> +She was addressing the white man, but her eyes were steadily regarding +the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later a second inquiry came. +</P> + +<P> +"Why is Keewin here? Why is he wounded?" +</P> + +<P> +The Padre replied. It was characteristic of the country in which they +lived, the lives they lived, that he resorted to no subterfuge, +although he knew his tidings were bad. +</P> + +<P> +"Keewin's got through from Bell River. It's a letter to you +from—Allan." +</P> + +<P> +The woman had perfect command of herself. She paled slightly, but her +lips were even firmer set. Jessie hurried to her side. It was as +though the child had instinctively sought the mother's support in face +of a blow which she knew was about to fall. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa held out one hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it to me," she said authoritatively. Then, as the Padre handed +the letter across to her, she added: "But first tell me what's amiss +with him." +</P> + +<P> +The Padre cleared his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"He's held up," he said firmly. "The Bell River neches have got him +surrounded. Keewin got through with great difficulty, and has been +wounded. You best read the letter, and—tell us." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LETTER +</H3> + + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray tore off the fastening which secured the outer cover of +discolored buckskin. Inside was a small sheet of folded paper. She +opened it, and glanced at the handwriting. Then, without a word, she +turned back into the house. Jessie followed her mother. It was nature +asserting itself. Danger was in the air, and the sex instinct at once +became uppermost. +</P> + +<P> +The men were left alone. +</P> + +<P> +Murray turned on the Indian. Father José and Alec Mowbray waited +attentively. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," Murray commanded. "Tell me quickly—while the missis and +the other are gone. They got his words. You tell me yours." +</P> + +<P> +His words came sharply. Keewin was Allan Mowbray's most trusted scout. +</P> + +<P> +The man answered at once, in a rapid flow of broken English. His one +thought was succor for his great white boss. +</P> + +<P> +"Him trade," he began, adopting his own method of narrating events, +which Murray was far too wise in his understanding of Indians to +attempt to change. "Great boss. Him much trade. Big. Plenty. So we +come by Bell River. One week, two week, three week, by Bell River." +He counted off the weeks on his fingers. "Bimeby Indian—him come +plenty. No pow-wow. Him come by night. All around corrals. Him make +big play. Him shoot plenty. Dead—dead—dead. Much dead." He +pointed at the ground in many directions to indicate the fierceness of +the attack. "Boss Allan—him big chief. Plenty big. Him say us fight +plenty—too. Him say, him show 'em dis Indian. So him fight big. Him +kill heap plenty too. So—one week. More Indian come. Boss Allan +then call Keewin. Us make big pow-wow. Him say ten Indian kill. Good +Indian. Ten still fight. Not 'nuff. No good ten fight whole tribe. +Him get help, or all kill. So. Him call Star-man. Keewin say +Star-man plenty good Indian. Him send Star-man to fort. So. No help +come. Maybe Star-man him get kill. So him pow-wow. Keewin say, him +go fetch help. Keewin go, not all be kill. So Keewin go. Indian find +Keewin. They shoot plenty much. Keewin no care that," he flicked his +tawny fingers in the air. "Indian no good shoot. Keewin laugh. So. +Keewin come fort." +</P> + +<P> +The man ceased speaking, his attitude remaining precisely as it was +before he began. He was without a sign of emotion. Neither the Padre +nor Alec spoke. Both were waiting for Murray. The priest's eyes were +on the trader's stern round face. He was watching and reading with +profound insight. Alec continued to regard the Indian. But he chafed +under Murray's delay. +</P> + +<P> +Before the silence was broken Ailsa Mowbray reappeared in the doorway. +Jessie had remained behind. +</P> + +<P> +The wife's face was a study in strong courage battling with emotion. +Her gray eyes, no longer soft, were steady, however. Her brows were +markedly drawn. Her lips, too, were firm, heroically firm. +</P> + +<P> +She held out her letter to the Padre. It was noticeable she did not +offer it to Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"Read it," she said. Then she added: "You can all read it. Alec, too." +</P> + +<P> +The two men closed in on either side of Father José. The woman looked +on while the three pairs of eyes read the firm clear handwriting. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she demanded, as the men looked up from their reading, and the +priest thoughtfully refolded the paper. +</P> + +<P> +Alec's tongue was the more ready to express his thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"God!" he cried. "It means—massacre!" +</P> + +<P> +The priest turned on him in reproof. His keen eyes shone like +burnished steel. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep silent—you," he cried, in a sharp, staccato way. +</P> + +<P> +The hot blood mounted to the boy's cheek, whether in abashment or in +anger would be impossible to say. He was prevented from further word +by Murray McTavish who promptly took command. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, there's no time for talk," he said, in his decisive fashion. +"It's up to us to get busy right away." He turned to the priest. +"Father, I need two crews for the big canoes right off—now. You'll +get 'em. Good crews for the paddle. Best let Keewin pick 'em. Eh, +Keewin?" The Indian nodded. "Keewin'll take charge of one, and I the +other. I can make Bell River under the week. I'll drive the crews to +the limit, an' maybe make the place in four days. I'll get right back +to the store now for the arms and ammunition, and the grub. We start +in an hour's time." +</P> + +<P> +Then he turned on Alec. There was no question in his mind. He had +made his decisions clearly and promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"See, boy," he said. "You'll stay right here. I'm aware you don't +fancy the store. But fer once you'll need to run it. But more than +all you'll be responsible nothing goes amiss for the women-folk. Their +care is up to you, in your father's absence. Get me? Father José'll +help you all he knows." +</P> + +<P> +Then, without awaiting reply, he turned to Allan Mowbray's wife. His +tone changed to one of the deepest gravity. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma'am," he said, "whatever man can do to help your husband now, I'll +do. I'll spare no one in the effort. Certainly not myself. That's my +word." +</P> + +<P> +The wife's reply came in a voice that was no longer steady. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Murray—for myself and for Allan. God—bless you." +</P> + +<P> +Murray had turned already to return to the Fort when Alec suddenly +burst out in protest. His eyes lit—the eyes of his mother. His fresh +young face was scarlet to the brow. +</P> + +<P> +"And do you suppose I'm going to sit around while father's being done +to death by a lot of rotten Indians? Not on your life. See here, +Murray, if there's any one needed to hang around the store it's up to +you. Father José can look after mother and Jessie. My place is with +the outfit, and—I'm going with it. Besides, who are you to dictate +what I'm to do? You look after your business; I'll see to mine. You +get me? I'm going up there to Bell River. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll—stop—right—here!" +</P> + +<P> +Murray had turned in a flash, and in his voice was a note none of those +looking on had ever heard before. It was a revelation of the man, and +even Father José was startled. The clash was sudden. Both the mother +and the priest realized for the first time in ten years the antagonism +underlying this outward display. +</P> + +<P> +The mother had no understanding of it. The priest perhaps had some. +He knew Murray's energy and purpose. He knew that Alec had been +indulged to excess by his parents. It would have seemed impossible in +the midst of the stern life in which they all lived that the son of +such parents could have grown up other than in their image. But it was +not so, and no one knew it better than Father José, who had been +responsible for his education. +</P> + +<P> +Alec was weak, reckless. Of his physical courage there was no +question. He had inherited his father's and his mother's to the full. +But he lacked their every other balance. He was idle, he loathed the +store and all belonging to it. He detested the life he was forced to +live in this desolate world, and craved, as only weak, virile youth can +crave, for the life and pleasure of the civilization he had read of, +heard of, dreamed of. +</P> + +<P> +Murray followed up his words before the younger man could gather his +retort. +</P> + +<P> +"When your father's in danger there's just one service you can do him," +he went on, endeavoring to check his inclination to hot words. "If +there's a thing happens to you, and we can't help your father, why, I +guess your mother and sister are left without a hand to help 'em. Do +you get that? I'm thinking for Allan Mowbray the best I know. I can +run this outfit to the limit. I can do what any other man can do for +his help. Your place is your father's place—right here. Ask your +mother." +</P> + +<P> +Murray looked across at Mrs. Mowbray, still standing in her doorway, +and her prompt support was forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, and her eyes sought those of her spoiled son. "For my +sake, Alec, for your father's, for your sister's." +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray was pleading where she had the right to command. And to +himself Father José mildly anathematized the necessity. +</P> + +<P> +Alec turned away with a scarcely smothered imprecation. But his +mother's appeal had had the effect Murray had desired. Therefore he +came to the boy's side in the friendliest fashion, his smile once more +restored to the features so made for smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Alec," he cried, "will you bear a hand with the arms and stuff? +I need to get right away quick." +</P> + +<P> +And strangely enough the young man choked back his disappointment, and +the memory of the trader's overbearing manner. He acquiesced without +further demur. But then this spoilt boy was only spoiled and weak. +His temper was hot, volcanic. His reckless disposition was the outcome +of a generous, unthinking courage. In his heart the one thing that +mattered was his father's peril, and the sadness in his mother's eyes. +Then he had read that letter. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said. "Tell me, and I'll do all you need. But for God's +sake don't treat me like a silly kid." +</P> + +<P> +"It was you who treated yourself as one," put in Father José, before +Murray could reply. "Remember, my son, men don't put women-folk into +the care of 'silly kids.'" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was characteristic of Murray McTavish that the loaded canoes cast +off from the Mission landing at the appointed time. For all the haste +nothing was forgotten, nothing neglected. The canoes were loaded down +with arms and ammunition divided into thirty packs. There were also +thirty packs of provisions, enough to last the necessary time. There +were two canoes, long, narrow craft, built for speed on the swift +flowing river. Keewin commanded the leading vessel. Murray sat in the +stern of the other. In each boat there were fourteen paddles, and a +man for bow "lookout." +</P> + +<P> +It was an excellent relief force. It was a force trimmed down to the +bone. Not one detail of spare equipment was allowed. This was a +fighting dash, calculating for its success upon its rapidity of +movement. +</P> + +<P> +There had been no farewell or verbal "Godspeed." The old priest had +watched them go. +</P> + +<P> +He saw the round figure of Murray in the stern of the rear boat. He +watched it out of sight. The figure had made no movement. There had +been no looking back. Then the old man, with a shake of the head, +betook himself back through the avenue of lank trees to the Mission. +He was troubled. +</P> + +<P> +The glowing eyes of Murray gazed out straight ahead of him. He sat +silent, immovable, it seemed, in the boat. That curious burning light, +so noticeable when his strange eyes became concentrated, was more +deeply lurid than ever. It gave him now an intense aspect of +fierceness, even ferocity. He looked more than capable, as he had +said, of driving his men, the whole expedition, to the "limit." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ON BELL RIVER +</H3> + + +<P> +It was an old log shanty. Its walls were stout and aged. Its roof was +flat, and sloped back against the hillside on which it stood. Its +setting was an exceedingly limited plateau, thrusting upon the +precipitous incline which overlooked the gorge of the Bell River. +</P> + +<P> +The face of the plateau was sheer. The only approaches to it were +right and left, and from the hill above, where the dark woods crowded. +A stockade of heavy trunks, felled on the spot, and adapted where they +fell, had been hastily set up. It was primitive, but in addition to +the natural defences, and with men of resolution behind it, it formed +an almost adequate fortification. +</P> + +<P> +The little fortress was high above the broad river. It was like an +eyrie of creatures of the air rather than the last defences of a party +of human beings. Yet such it was. It was the last hope of its +defenders, faced by a horde of blood-crazed savages who lusted only for +slaughter. +</P> + +<P> +Five grimly silent men lined the stockade at the most advantageous +points. Five more lay about, huddled under blankets for warmth, +asleep. A single watcher had screened himself upon the roof of the +shack, whence his keen eyes could sweep the gorge from end to end. All +these were dusky creatures of a superior Indian race. Every one of +them was a descendant of the band of Sioux Indians which fled to Canada +after the Custer massacre. Inside the hut was the only white man of +the party. +</P> + +<P> +A perfect silence reigned just now. There was a lull in the attack. +The Indians crowding the woods below had ceased their futile fire. +Perhaps they were holding a council. Perhaps they were making new +dispositions for a fresh attack. The men at the defences relaxed no +vigilance. The man on the roof noted and renoted every detail of +importance to the defence which the scene presented. The man inside +the hut alone seemed, at the moment, to be taking no part in the +enactment of the little drama. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it was he who was the genius of it all. It was he who claimed the +devotion of these lean, fighting Indians. It was he who had contrived +thus far to hold at bay a force of at least five hundred Indians, +largely armed with modern firearms. It was he who had led the faithful +remnant of his outfit, in a desperate night sortie, from his +indefensible camp on the river, and, by a reckless dash, had succeeded +in reaching this temporary haven. +</P> + +<P> +But he had been supported by his half civilized handful of creatures +who well enough knew what mercy to expect from the enemy. And, anyway, +they had been bred of a stock with a fighting history second to no race +in the world. To a man, the defenders were prepared to sell their +lives at a heavy price. And they would die rifle in hand and facing +the enemy. +</P> + +<P> +The man inside called to the watcher on the roof. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything doing, Keewin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Him quiet. Him see no man. Maybe him make heap pow-wow." +</P> + +<P> +"No sign, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not nothin', boss." +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray turned again to the sheet of paper spread out on the lid +of an ammunition box which was laid across his knees. He was sitting +on a sack of flour. All about him the stores they had contrived to +bring away were lying on the ground. It was small enough supply. But +they had not dared to overload in the night rush to their present +quarters. +</P> + +<P> +He read over what he had written. Then he turned appraisingly to the +stores. His blue eyes were steady and calculating. There was no other +expression in them. +</P> + +<P> +There was a suggestion of the Viking of old about this northern trader. +His fair hair, quite untouched with the gray due to his years, his +fair, curling beard, and whiskers, and moustache, his blue eyes and +strong aquiline nose. These things, combined with a massive physique, +without an ounce of spare flesh, left an impression in the mind of +fearless courage and capacity. He was a fighting man to his fingers' +tips—when need demanded. +</P> + +<P> +He turned back to his writing. It was a labored effort, not for want +of skill, but for the reason he had no desire to fret the heart of the +wife to whom it was addressed. +</P> + +<P> +At last the letter was completed. He signed it, and read it carefully +through, considering each sentence as to effect. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"<I>Bell River</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"MY DEAREST WIFE: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I've had a more than usually successful trip, till I came here. Now +things are not so good." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He glanced up out of the doorway, and a shadowy smile lurked in the +depths of his eyes. Then he turned again to the letter: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I've already written Murray for help, but I guess the letter's kind of +miscarried. He hasn't sent the help. Star-man took the letter. So +now I'm writing you, and sending it by Keewin. If anybody can get +through it's Keewin. The Bell River Indians have turned on me. I +can't think why. Anyway, I need help. If it's to do any good it's got +to come along right away. I needn't say more to you. Tell Murray. +Give my love to Jessie and Alec. I'd like to see them again. Guess I +shall, if the help gets through—in time. God bless you, Ailsa, dear. +I shall make the biggest fight for it I know. It's five hundred or so +to ten. It'll be a tough scrap before we're through. +<BR><BR> +"Your loving +<BR> +"ALLAN." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He folded the sheet of paper in an abstracted fashion. For some +seconds he held it in his fingers as though weighing the advisability +of sending it. Then his abstraction passed, and he summoned the man on +the roof. +</P> + +<P> +A moment or two later Keewin appeared in the doorway, tall, wiry, his +broad, impassive face without a sign. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Keewin," the white chief began, "we need to get word through to +the Fort. Guess Star-man's dead, hey?" +</P> + +<P> +"Star-man plenty good scout. Boss Murray him no come. Maybe Star-man +all kill dead. So." +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I figger." +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray paused and glanced back at the trifling stores. +</P> + +<P> +"No much food, hey? No much ammunition. One week—two weeks—maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian looked squarely into his chief's eyes. The latter held up +his letter. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's going? Indians kill him—sure. Who goes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Keewin." +</P> + +<P> +The reply came without a sign. Not a movement of a muscle, or the +flicker of an eyelid. +</P> + +<P> +The white man breathed deeply. It was a sign of emotion which he was +powerless to deny. His eyes regarded the dusky face for some moments. +Then he spoke with profound conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't a dog's chance—gettin' through," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The information did not seem to require a reply, so far as the Indian +was concerned. The white man went on: +</P> + +<P> +"It's mad—crazy—but it's our only chance." +</P> + +<P> +The persistence of his chief forced the Indian to reiterate his +determination. +</P> + +<P> +"Keewin—him go." +</P> + +<P> +The tone of the reply was almost one of indifference. It suggested +that the white man was making quite an unnecessary fuss. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray nodded. There was a look in his eyes that said far more +than words. He held out his letter. The Indian took it. He turned it +over. Then from his shirt pocket he withdrew a piece of buckskin. He +carefully wrapped it about the paper, and bestowed it somewhere within +his shirt. +</P> + +<P> +The white man watched him in silence. When the operation was complete +he abruptly thrust out one powerful hand. Just for an instant a gleam +of pleasure lit the Indian's dark eyes. He gingerly responded. Then, +as the two men gripped, the "spat" of rifle-fire began again. There +was a moment in which the two men stood listening. Then their hands +fell apart. +</P> + +<P> +"Great feller—Keewin!" said Mowbray kindly. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was the white man speaking for the benefit of a lesser +intelligence, nor in the manner of the patronage of a faithful servant. +He meant his words literally. He meant more—much more than he said. +</P> + +<P> +The rifle fire rattled up from below. The bullets whistled in every +direction. The firing was wild, as is most Indian firing. A bullet +struck the lintel of the door, and embedded itself deeply in the +woodwork just above Keewin's head. +</P> + +<P> +Keewin glanced up. He pointed with a long, brown finger. +</P> + +<P> +"Neche damn fool. No shoot. Keewin go. Keewin laugh. Bell River +Indian all damn fool. So." +</P> + +<P> +It was the white man who had replaced the Indian at the lookout on the +roof. He was squatting behind a roughly constructed shelter. His +rifle was beside him and a belt full of ammunition was strapped about +his waist. +</P> + +<P> +The wintry sky was steely in the waning daylight. Snow had fallen. +Only a slight fall for the region, but it had covered everything to the +depth of nearly a foot. The whole aspect of the world had changed. +The dark, forbidding gorge of the Bell River no longer frowned up at +the defenders of the plateau. It was glistening, gleaming white, and +the dreary pine trees bowed their tousled heads under a burden of snow. +The murmur of the river no longer came up to them. Already three +inches of ice had imprisoned it, stifling its droning voice under its +merciless grip. +</P> + +<P> +Attack on attack had been hurled against the white man and his little +band of Indians. For days there had been no respite. The attacks had +come from below, from the slopes of the hill above, from the approach +on either side. Each attack had been beaten off. Each attack had +taken its heavy toll of the enemy. But there had been toll taken from +the defenders, a toll they could ill afford. There were only eight +souls all told in the log fortress now. Eight half-starved creatures +whose bones were beginning to thrust at the fleshless skin. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray's hollow eyes scanned the distant reaches of the gorge +where it opened out southward upon low banks. His straining gaze was +searching for a sign—one faint glimmer of hope. All his plans were +laid. Nothing had been left to the chances of his position. His +calculations had been deliberate and careful. He had known from the +beginning, from the moment he had realized the full possibilities of +his defence, that the one thing which could defeat him was—hunger. +Once the enemy realized this, and acted on it, their doom, unless +outside help came in time, was sealed. His enemies had realized it. +</P> + +<P> +There were no longer any attacks. Only desultory firing. But a cordon +had been drawn around the fortress, and the process of starvation had +set in. +</P> + +<P> +He was giving his Fate its last chance now. If the sign of help he was +seeking did not appear before the feeble wintry light had passed then +the die was cast. +</P> + +<P> +The minutes slipped by. The meagre light waned. The sign had not +come. As the last of the day merged into the semi-arctic night he left +his lookout and wearily lowered himself to the ground. His men were +gathered, huddled in their blankets for warmth, about a small fire +burning within the hut. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray imparted his tidings in the language of the men who +served him. With silent stoicism the little band of defenders listened +to the end. +</P> + +<P> +Keewin, he told them, had had time to get through. Full time to reach +the Fort, and return with the help he had asked for. That help should +have been with them three days ago. It had not come. Keewin, he +assured them, must have been killed. Nothing could otherwise have +prevented the help reaching them. He told them that if they remained +there longer they would surely die of hunger and cold. They would die +miserably. +</P> + +<P> +He paused for comment. None was forthcoming. His only reply was the +splutter of the small fire which they dared not augment. +</P> + +<P> +So he went on. +</P> + +<P> +He told them he had decided, if they would follow him, to die fighting, +or reach the open with whatever chances the winter trail might afford +them. He told them he was a white man who was not accustomed to bend +to the will of the northern Indian. They might break him, but he would +not bend. He reminded them they were Sioux, children of the great +Sitting Bull. He reminded them that death in battle was the glory of +the Indian. That no real Sioux would submit to starvation. +</P> + +<P> +This time his words were received with definite acclamation. So he +proceeded to his plans. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later the last of the stores was being consumed by men who +had not had an adequate meal for many days. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The aurora lit the night sky. The northern night had set in to the +fantastic measure of the ghostly dance of the polar spirits. The air +was still, and the temperature had fallen headlong. The pitiless cold +was searching all the warm life left vulnerable to its attack. The +shadowed eyes of night looked down upon the world through a gray +twilight of calculated melancholy. +</P> + +<P> +The cold peace of the elements was unshared by the striving human +creatures peopling the great white wilderness over which it brooded. +War to the death was being fought out under the eyes of the dancing +lights, and the twinkling contentment of the pallid world of stars. +</P> + +<P> +A small bluff of lank trees reared its tousled snow-crowned head above +the white heart of a wide valley. It was where the gorge of the Bell +River opened out upon low banks. It was where the only trail of the +region headed westwards. The bowels of the bluff were defended by a +meagre undergrowth, which served little better purpose than to +partially conceal them. About this bluff a ring of savages had formed. +Low-type savages of smallish stature, and of little better intelligence +than the predatory creatures who roamed the wild. +</P> + +<P> +With every passing moment the ring drew closer, foot by foot, yard by +yard. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the bluff prone forms lay hidden under the scrub. And only the +flash of rifle, and the biting echoes of its report, told of the epic +defence that was being put up. But for all the effort the movement of +the defenders, before the closing ring, was retrograde, always +retrograde towards the centre. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly but inevitably the ring grew smaller about the bluff. Numbers +of its ranks dropped out, and still forms littered the ground over +which it had passed. But each and every gap thus made was +automatically closed as the human ring drew in. +</P> + +<P> +The last phase began. The ring was no longer visible outside the +bluff. It had passed the outer limits, and entered the scrub. In the +centre, in the very heart of it, six Indians and a white man crouched +back to back—always facing the advancing enemy. Volley after volley +was flung wildly at them from every side, regardless of comrade, +regardless of everything but the lust to kill. The tumult of battle +rose high. The demoniac yells filled the air to the accompaniment of +an incessant rattle of rifle fire. The Bell River horde knew that at +last their lust was to be satisfied. So their triumph rose in a +vicious chorus upon the still air, and added its terror to the night. +</P> + +<P> +The defenders were further reduced to four. The white man had +abandoned his rifle. Now he stood erect, a revolver in each hand, in +the midst of the remainder of his faithful band. He was wounded in +many places. Nor had the Indians with him fared better. Warm blood +streamed from gaping wounds which were left unheeded. For the fight +was to the finish, and not one of them but would have it so. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was the end far off. It came swiftly, ruthlessly. It came with a +ferocious chorus from throats hoarse with their song of battle. It +came with a wild headlong rush, that recked nothing of the storm of +fire with which it was met. A dozen lifeless bodies piled themselves +before the staunch resistance. It made no difference. The avalanche +swept on, and over the human barricade, till it reached striking +distance for its crude native weapons. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray saw each of his last three men go down in a welter of +blood. His pistols were empty and useless. There was a moment of wild +physical struggle. Then, the next, he was borne down under the rush, +and life was literally hacked out of him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE NIGHT +</H3> + + +<P> +The living-room in Ailsa Mowbray's home was full of that comfort which +makes life something more than a mere existence in places where the +elements are wholly antagonistic. The big square wood-stove was tinted +ruddily by the fierce heat of the blazing logs within. Carefully +trimmed oil lamps shed a mellow, but ample, light upon furnishings of +unusual quality. The polished red pine walls reflected the warmth of +atmosphere prevailing. And thick furs, spread over the well-laid green +block flooring, suggested a luxury hardly to be expected. +</P> + +<P> +The furniture was stout, and heavy, and angular, possessing that air of +strength, as well as comfort, which the modern mission type always +presents. The ample central table, too, was significant of the open +hospitality the mistress of it all loved to extend to the whole post, +and even to those chance travelers who might be passing through on the +bitter northern trail. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray had had her wish since the passing of the days when it +had been necessary to share in the labors of her husband. The simple +goal of her life had been a home of comfort for her growing children, +and a wealth of hospitality for those who cared to taste of it. +</P> + +<P> +The long winter night had already set in, and she was seated before the +stove in a heavy rocking-chair. Her busy fingers were plying her +needle, a work she loved in spite of the hard training of her early +days in the north. At the other side of the glowing stove Jessie was +reading one of the books with which Father José kept her supplied. The +wind was moaning desolately about the house. The early snowfall was +being drifted into great banks in the hollows. Up on the hilltop, +where the stockade of the Fort frowned out upon the world, the moaning +was probably translated into a tense, steady howl. +</P> + +<P> +The mother glanced at the clock which stood on the bureau near by. It +was nearly seven. Alec would be in soon from his work up at the store, +that hour of work which he faced so reluctantly after the evening meal +had been disposed of. In half an hour, too, Father José would be +coming up from the Mission. She was glad. It would help to keep her +from thinking. +</P> + +<P> +She sighed and glanced quickly over at her daughter. Jessie was poring +over her book. The sight of such absorption raised a certain feeling +of irritation in the mother. It seemed to her that Jessie could too +easily throw off the trouble besetting them all. She did not know that +the girl was fighting her own battle in her own way. She did not know +that her interest in her book was partly feigned. Nor was she aware +that the girl's effort was not only for herself, but to help the mother +she was unconsciously offending. +</P> + +<P> +The anxious waiting for Murray's return had been well-nigh unbearable. +These people, all the folk on Snake River, knew the dangers and chances +of the expedition. Confidence in Murray was absolute, but still it +left a wide margin for disaster. They had calculated to the finest +fraction the time that must elapse before his return. Three weeks was +the minimum, and the three weeks had already terminated three nights +ago. It was this which had set the mother's nerves on edge. It was +this knowledge which kept Jessie's eyes glued to the pages of her book. +It was this which made the contemplation of the later gathering of the +men in that living-room a matter for comparative satisfaction to Ailsa +Mowbray. +</P> + +<P> +Her needle passed to and fro under her skilful hands. There was almost +feverish haste in its movements. So, too, the pages of Jessie's book +seemed to be turned all too frequently. +</P> + +<P> +At last the mother's voice broke the silence. +</P> + +<P> +"It's storming," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, mother." Jessie had glanced up. But her eyes fell to her book +at once. +</P> + +<P> +"But it—won't stop them any." The mother's words lacked conviction. +Then, as if she realized that this was so, she went on more firmly. +"But Murray drives hard on the trail. And Allan—it would need a +bigger storm than this to stop him. If the river had kept open they'd +have made better time." She sighed her regret for the ice. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, mother." Jessie again glanced up. This time her pretty eyes +observed her mother more closely. She noted the drawn lines about the +soft mouth, the deep indentation between the usually serene brows. She +sighed, and the pain at her own heart grew sharper. +</P> + +<P> +Quite suddenly the mother raised her head and dropped her sewing in her +lap. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, child, child, I—I could cry at this—waiting," she cried in +desperate distress. "I'm scared! Oh, I'm scared to death. Scared as +I've never been before. But things—things can't have happened. I +tell you I won't believe that way. No—no! I won't. I won't. Oh, +why don't they get around? Why doesn't he come?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl laid her book aside. Her movement was markedly calm. Then +she steadily regarded her troubled mother. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, mother, dear," she cried. "You mustn't. 'Deed you mustn't." +Her tone was a gentle but decided reproof. "We've figured it clear +out. All of us together. Father José and Alec, too. They're men, and +cleverer at that sort of thing than we are. Father José reckons the +least time Murray needs to get back in is three weeks. It's only three +days over. There's no sort of need to get scared for a week yet." +</P> + +<P> +The reproof was well calculated. It was needed. So Jessie understood. +Jessie possessed all her mother's strength of character, and had in +addition the advantage of her youth. +</P> + +<P> +Her mother was abashed at her own display of weakness. She was abashed +that it should be necessary for her own child to reprove her. She +hastily picked up her work again. +</P> + +<P> +But Jessie had abandoned her reading for good. She leaned forward in +her chair, gazing meditatively at a glowing, red-hot spot on the side +of the stove. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she voiced the train of thought which had held her occupied so +long. +</P> + +<P> +"Why does our daddy make Bell River, mother?" she demanded. "It's a +question I'm always asking myself. He's told me it's not a place for +man, devil, or trader. Yet he goes there. Say, he makes Bell River +every year. Why? He doesn't get pelts there. He once said he'd hate +to send his worst enemy up there. Yet he goes. Why? That's how I'm +always asking. Say, mother, you ran this trade with our daddy before +Murray came. You know why he goes there. You never say. Nor does +daddy. Nor Murray. Is—it a secret?" +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa replied without raising her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not for you to ask me," she said almost coldly. +</P> + +<P> +But Jessie was in no mood to be easily put off. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe not, mother," she replied readily. "But you know, I guess. I +wonder. Well, I'm not going to ask for daddy's secrets. I just know +there is a secret to Bell River. And that secret is between you, and +him, and Murray. That's why Alec had to stop right here at the Fort. +Maybe it's a dangerous secret, since you keep it so close. But it +doesn't matter. All I know our daddy is risking his life every time he +hits the Bell River trail, and, secret or no secret, I ask is it right? +Is it worth while? If anything happened to our daddy you'd never, +never forgive yourself letting him risk his life where he wouldn't send +his worst enemy.'" +</P> + +<P> +The mother laid her work aside. Nor did she speak while she folded the +material deliberately, carefully. +</P> + +<P> +When at last she turned her eyes in her daughter's direction Jessie was +horrified at the change in them. They were haggard, hopeless, with a +misery of suspense and conviction of disaster. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use, child," she said decidedly. "Don't ask me a thing. If +you guess there's a secret to Bell River—forget it. Anyway, it's not +my secret. Say, you think I can influence our daddy. You think I can +persuade him to quit getting around Bell River." She shook her head. +"I can't. No, child. I can't, nor could you, nor could anybody. Your +father's the best husband in the world. And I needn't tell you his +kindness and generosity. He's all you've ever believed him, and +more—much more. He's a big man, so big, you and I'll never even +guess. But just as he's all we'd have him in our lives, so he's all he +needs to be on the bitter northern trail. The secrets of that trail +are his. Nothing'll drag them out of him. Whatever I know, child, +I've had to pay for the knowing. Bell River's been my nightmare years +and years. I've feared it as I've feared nothing else. And now—oh, +it's dreadful. Say, child, for your father's sake leave Bell River out +of your thoughts, out of your talk. Never mention that you think of +any secret. As I said, 'forget it.'" +</P> + +<P> +Her mother's distress, and obvious dread impressed the girl seriously. +She nodded her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll never speak of it, mother," she assured her. "I'll try to forget +it. But why—oh, why should he make you endure these years of +nightmare? I——" +</P> + +<P> +Her mother abruptly held up a finger. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush! There's Father José." +</P> + +<P> +There was the sharp rattle of a lifted latch, and the slam-to of the +outer storm door. They heard the stamping of feet as the priest freed +his overshoes of snow. A moment later the inner door was pushed open. +</P> + +<P> +Father José greeted them out of the depths of his fur coat collar. +</P> + +<P> +"A bad night, ma'am," he said gravely. "The folks on the trail will +feel it—cruel." +</P> + +<P> +The little man divested himself of his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"The folk on the trail? Is there any news?" Ailsa Mowbray's tone said +far more than her mere words. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie had risen from her chair and crossed to her mother's side. She +stood now with a hand resting on the elder woman's shoulder. And the +priest, observing them as he advanced to the stove, and held his hands +to the comforting warmth, was struck by the twin-like resemblance +between them. +</P> + +<P> +Their beauty was remarkable. The girl's oval cheeks were no more +perfect in general outline than her mother's. Her sweet gray eyes were +no softer, warmer. The youthful lips, so ripe and rich, only possessed +the advantage of her years. The priest remembered Allan Mowbray's wife +at her daughter's age, and so he saw even less difference between them +than time had imposed. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I've been along up to see Alec at the store for. Alec's +gone out with a dog team to bear a hand—if need be." +</P> + +<P> +The white-haired man turned his back on the stove and faced the +spacious room. He withdrew a snuffbox from his semi-clerical vest +pocket, and thoughtfully tapped it with a forefinger. Then he helped +himself to a large pinch of snuff. As far as the folks on Snake River +knew this was the little priest's nearest approach to vice. +</P> + +<P> +"Alec gone out? You never told us?" Ailsa Mowbray's eyes searched the +sharp profile of the man, whose face was deliberately averted. "Tell +me," she demanded. "You've had news. Bad? Is it bad? Tell me! Tell +me quickly!" +</P> + +<P> +The man fumbled in an inner pocket and produced a folded paper. He +opened it, and gazed at it silently. Then he passed it to the wife, +whose hands were held out and trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had this. It came in by runner. The poor wretch was badly +frost-bitten. It's surely a cruel country." +</P> + +<P> +But Ailsa Mowbray was not heeding him. Nor was Jessie. Both women +were examining the paper, and its contents. The mother read it aloud. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"DEAR FATHER JOSE: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"We'll make the Fort to-morrow night if the weather holds. Can you +send out dogs and a sled? Have things ready for us. +<BR><BR> +"MURRAY." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +During the reading the priest helped himself to another liberal pinch +of snuff. Then he produced a great colored handkerchief, and trumpeted +violently into it. But he was watching the women closely out of the +corners of his hawk-like eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa read the brief note a second time, but to herself. Then, with +hands which had become curiously steady, she refolded it, retaining it +in her possession with a strangely detached air. It was almost as if +she had forgotten it, and that her thoughts had flown in a direction +which had nothing to do with the letter, or the Padre, or—— +</P> + +<P> +But Jessie came at the man in a tone sharpened by the intensity of her +feelings. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Father, there's no more than that note? The runner? Did he tell +you—anything? You—you questioned him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the mother took a step forward. One of her hands closed upon +the old priest's arm with a grip that made him wince. +</P> + +<P> +"The truth, Father," she demanded, in a tone that would not be denied. +Her eyes were wide and full of a desperate conviction. "Quick, the +truth! What was there that Murray didn't write in that note? Allan? +What of Allan? Did he reach him? Is—is he dead? Why did he want +that sled? Tell me. Tell it all, quick!" +</P> + +<P> +She was breathing hard. Her desperate fear was heart-breaking. Jessie +remained silent, but her eyes were lit by a sudden terror no less than +her mother's. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the priest faced the stove again. He gazed down at it for a +fraction of time. Then he turned to the woman he had known in her +girlhood, and his eyes were lit with infinite kindness, infinite grief +and sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said in a low voice. "There was a verbal message for my ears +alone. Murray feared for you. The shock. So he told me. Allan——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is dead!" Ailsa Mowbray whispered the words, as one who knows but +cannot believe. +</P> + +<P> +"Is dead." The priest was gazing down at the stove once more. +</P> + +<P> +No word broke the silence of the room. The fire continued to roar up +the stovepipe. The moaning of the wind outside deplorably emphasized +the desolation of the home. For once it harmonized with the note of +despair which flooded the hearts of these people. +</P> + +<P> +It was Jessie who first broke down under the cruel lash of Fate. She +uttered a faint cry. Then a desperate sob choked her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, daddy, daddy!" she cried, like some grief-stricken child. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment she was clasped to the warm bosom of the woman who had been +robbed of a husband. +</P> + +<P> +Not a tear fell from the eyes of the mother. She stood still, silent, +exerting her last atom of moral strength in support of her child. +</P> + +<P> +Father José stirred. His eyes rested for a moment upon the two women. +A wonderfully tender, misty light shone in their keen depths. No word +of his could help them now, he knew. So with soundless movement he +resumed his furs and overshoes, and, in silence, passed out into the +night. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The wind howled against the ramparts of the Fort. It swept in through +the open gates, whistling its fierce glee as it buffeted the staunch +buildings thus uncovered to its merciless blast. The black night air +was alive with a fog of snow, swept up in a sort of stinging, frozen +dust. The lights of Nature had been extinguished, blotted out by the +banking storm-clouds above. It seemed as though this devil's +playground had been cleared of every intrusion so that the riot of the +northern demons might be left complete. +</P> + +<P> +A fur-clad figure stood within the great gateway. The pitiful glimmer +of a lantern swung from his mitted hand. His eyes, keen, penetrating, +in spite of the blinding snow, searched the direction where the trail +flowed down from the Fort. He was waiting, still, silent, in the howl +of the storm. +</P> + +<P> +A sound came up the hill. It was a sound which had nothing to do with +the storm. It was the voices of men, urgent, strident. A tiny spark +suddenly grew out of the blackness. It was moving, swinging +rhythmically. A moment later shadowy figures moved in the darkness. +They were vague, uncertain. But they came, following closely upon the +spark of light, which was borne in the hand of a man on snowshoes. +</P> + +<P> +The fur-clad figure swung his lantern to and fro. He moved himself +from post to post of the great gateway. Then he stood in his original +position. +</P> + +<P> +The spark of light came on. It was another lantern, borne in the hand +of another fur-clad figure. It passed through the gateway. A string +of panting dogs followed close behind, clawing at the ground for +foothold, bellies low to the ground as they hauled at the rawhide tugs +which harnessed them to their burden behind. One by one they passed +the waiting figure. One by one they were swallowed up by the blackness +within the Fort. Five in all were counted. Then came a long dark +shape, which glided over the snow with a soft, hissing sound. +</P> + +<P> +The waiting man made a sign with his mitted hand as the shape passed +him. His lips moved in silent prayer. Then he turned to the gates. +They swung to. The heavy bars lumbered into their places under his +guidance. Then, as though in the bitterness of disappointment, the +howling gale flung itself with redoubled fury against them, till the +stout timbers creaked and groaned under the wanton attack. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JOHN KARS +</H3> + + +<P> +Seven months of dreadful winter had passed. Seven months since the +mutilated body of Allan Mowbray had been packed home by dog-train to +its last resting place within the storm-swept Fort he had labored so +hard to serve. It was the open season again. That joyous season of +the annual awakening of the northern world from its nightmare of stress +and storm, a nightmare which drives human vitality down to the very +limit of its mental and physical endurance. +</P> + +<P> +Father José and Ailsa Mowbray had been absent from the post for the +last three months of the winter. Their return from Leaping Horse, the +golden heart of the northern wild, had occurred at the moment when the +ice-pack had vanished from the rivers, and the mud-sodden trail had +begun to harden under the brisk, drying winds of spring. They had made +the return journey at the earliest moment, before the summer movements +of the glacial fields had converted river and trail into a constant +danger for the unwary. +</P> + +<P> +Allan Mowbray had left his affairs in Father José's hands. They were +as simple and straight as a simple man could make them. The will had +contained no mention of his partner, Murray's name, except in the way +of thanks. To the little priest he had confided the care of his +bereaved family. And it was obvious, from the wording of his will, +that the burden thus imposed upon his lifelong friend had been +willingly undertaken. +</P> + +<P> +His wishes were clear, concise. All his property, all his business +interests were for his wife. Apart from an expressed desire that Alec +should be given a salaried appointment in the work of the post during +his mother's lifetime, and that at her death the boy should inherit, +unconditionally, her share of the business, and the making of a +monetary provision for his daughter, Jessie, the disposal of his +worldly goods was quite unconditional. +</P> + +<P> +Father José had known the contents of the will beforehand. In fact, he +had helped his old friend in his decisions. Nor had Alec's position +been decided upon without his advice. These two men understood the boy +too well to chance helping to spoil his life by an ample, unearned +provision. They knew the weak streak in his character, and had decided +to give him a chance, by the process of time, to obtain that balance +which might befit him for the responsibility of a big commercial +enterprise. +</P> + +<P> +When Murray learned the position of affairs he offered no comment. +Without demur he concurred in every proposition set before him by +Father José. He rendered the little man every assistance in his power +in the work which had been so suddenly thrust upon his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +So it was that more than one-half of the winter was passed in delving +into the accounts of the enterprise Allan and his partner had built up, +while the other, the second half, was spent by Mrs. Mowbray and Father +José at Leaping Horse, where the ponderous legal machinery was set in +motion for the final settlement of the estate. +</P> + +<P> +For Father José the work was not without its compensations. His grief +at Allan's dreadful end had been almost overwhelming, and the work in +which he found himself involved had come as a help at the moment it was +most needed. Then there was Ailsa, and Jessie, and Alec. His work +helped to keep him from becoming a daily witness of their terrible +distress. Furthermore, there were surprises for him in the pages of +the great ledgers at the Fort. Surprises of such a nature that he +began to wonder if he were still living in the days of miracles, or if +he were simply the victim of hallucination. +</P> + +<P> +He found that Allan was rich, rich beyond his most exaggerated dreams. +He found that this obscure fur post carried on a wealth of trade which +might have been the envy of a corporation a hundred times its size. He +found that for years a stream of wealth had been pouring into the +coffers at the post in an ever-growing tide. He found that +seven-tenths of it was Allan's, and that Murray McTavish considered +himself an amply prosperous man on the remaining three-tenths. +</P> + +<P> +Where did it all come from? How did it come about? He expressed no +wonder to anybody. He gave no outward sign of his astonishment. There +was a secret. There must be a secret. But the books yielded up no +secret. Only the broad increasing tide of a trade which coincided with +the results. But he felt for all their simple, indisputable figures, +they concealed in their pages a cleverly hidden secret, a profound +secret, which must alone have been shared by the partners, and possibly +Ailsa Mowbray. Allan Mowbray's fortune, apart from the business, +closely approximated half a million dollars. It was incredible. It +was so stupendous as to leave the simple little priest quite +overwhelmed. +</P> + +<P> +However, with due regard for his friendship, he spared himself nothing. +Nothing was neglected. Nothing was left undone in his stewardship. +And so, within seven months of Allan's disastrous end, he found himself +once more free to turn to the simple cares of the living in his +administration of the Mission on Snake River, which was the sum total +of his life's ambition and work. +</P> + +<P> +His duty to the dead was done. And it seemed to his plain thinking +mind that the episode should have been closed forever. But it was not. +Moreover, he knew it was not. How he knew was by no means clear. +Somehow he felt that the end was far off, somewhere in the dim future. +Somehow he felt that he was only at the beginning of things. A secret +lay concealed under his friend's great wealth, and the thought of it +haunted him. It warned him, too, and left him pondering deeply. +However, he did not talk, not even to his friend's widow. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The round form of Murray McTavish filled the office chair to +overflowing. For a man of his energy and capacity, for a man so +perfectly equipped, mentally, and in spirit, for the fierce battle of +the northern latitudes, it was a grotesque freak of Nature that his +form, so literally corpulent, should be so inadequate. However, there +it was. And Nature, seeming to realize the anachronism, had done her +best to repair her blunder. If he were laboring under a superfluity of +adipose, she had equipped him with muscles of steel and lungs of +tremendous expansion, a fierce courage, and nerves of a tempering such +as she rarely bestowed. +</P> + +<P> +He was smoking a strong cigar and reading a letter in a decided +handwriting. It was a man's letter, and it was of a business nature. +Yet though it entailed profit for its recipient it seemed to inspire no +satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +The big eyes were a shade wider than usual. Their glowing depths +burned more fiercely. He was stirred, and the secret of his feelings +lay in the signature at the end of the letter. It was a signature that +Murray McTavish disliked. +</P> + +<P> +"John Kars," he muttered aloud. +</P> + +<P> +There was no friendliness in his tone. There was no friendliness in +the eyes which were raised from the letter and turned on the deep-set +window overlooking the open gates beyond. +</P> + +<P> +For some silent moments he sat there thinking deeply. He continued to +smoke, his gaze abstractedly fixed upon the blue film which floated +before it upon the still air. Gradually the dislike seemed to pass out +of his eyes. The fire in them to die down. Something almost like a +smile replaced it, a smile for which his face was so perfect a setting. +But his smile would have been difficult to describe. Perhaps it was +one of pleasure. Perhaps it was touched with irony. Perhaps, even, it +was the smile, the dangerous smile of a man who is fiercely resentful. +It was a curiosity in Murray that his smile could at any time be +interpreted into an expression of any one of the emotions. +</P> + +<P> +But suddenly there came an interruption. In a moment his abstraction +was banished. He sprang alertly from his chair and moved to the door +which he held open. He had seen the handsome figure of Ailsa Mowbray +pass his window. Now she entered the office in response to his silent +invitation. She took the chair which always stood ready before a +second desk. It was the desk which had been Allan Mowbray's, and which +now was used by his son. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come to talk about Alec," the mother said, turning her chair +about, and facing the man who was once more at his desk. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." The man nodded. His smile had vanished. His look was all +concern. He knew, none better than he, that Alec must be discussed +between them. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray had aged in the seven months since her husband's death. +She had aged considerably. Her spirit, her courage, were undiminished, +but the years had at last levied the toll which a happy wifehood had +denied them. Nor was Murray unobservant of these things. His partner +in the fortunes of Fort Mowbray was an old woman. +</P> + +<P> +"There's difficulty," the mother went on, her handsome eyes averting +their gaze towards the window. "Allan didn't reckon on the boy when he +said he should have a position right here." +</P> + +<P> +Murray shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said. "Guess that desk's been closed down since the season +opened. He's brought in half a hundred pelts to his own gun, and +guesses he's carrying on his father's work." There was a biting irony +in the man's tone. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't seem to like settling to the work here." +</P> + +<P> +It was some moments before Murray replied. His big eyes were deeply +reflective. The fire in their depths seemed to come and go under +varying emotions. His eyes were at all times expressive, but their +expressions could rarely be read aright. +</P> + +<P> +"He's troubled with youth, ma'am," he said, as though at last arrived +at a definite conclusion, "and he needs to get shut of it before he can +be of use to himself, or—to us. You'll excuse me if I talk plain. +I've got to talk plain, right here and now. Maybe it hasn't occurred +to either of us before just what it means to our enterprise Allan being +gone. It means a mighty big heap, so almighty big I can only just see +over the top. I take it you'll get me when I say this thing can't be +run by a woman. It needs to be run by a man, and, seeing Alec don't +figger to set around in this store, I've got to do most of it—with +your help. Y'see, ma'am, there's just two sides to this proposition. +Either we run it together, or you sell out to me. Anyway, I'm not +selling. I'll take it you'll say we run it together. Good. Then it's +up to me to do the man's work, while you, I guess, won't have forgotten +the work you had to do before I came. If you feel like fixing things +that way I guess we can make good till this boy, Alec, forgets he's a +kid, and we can hand him all Allan didn't choose to hand him during his +life. Get me? Meanwhile we're going to help the boy get over his +youth by letting him get his nose outside this region, and see a live +city where things happen plenty, and money buys a good time. That way +we'll bridge over what looks like a pretty awkward time. I take up the +work where Allan quit it, and you—well, it's all here same as it was +before I got around. I want you to feel I figger Allan left me with a +trust which I'm mighty glad to fulfil. He let me in on the ground +floor of this thing, and I don't forget it. I want to do all I know to +fix it right for those he left behind him. Maybe you'll find me rough +sometimes, maybe I don't happen to have a patience like old Job. But +I'm going to put things through, same as I know Allan would have had +them." +</P> + +<P> +The frankness of the man was completely convincing. Ailsa expanded +under the warm kindliness of his tone in a manner which surprised even +herself. Hitherto this man had never appealed to her. She knew her +husband's regard for him. She had always seen in him an astute man of +business, with a strength of purpose and capacity always to be relied +upon. But the sentiments he now expressed were surprising, and came as +a welcome display such as she would never have expected. +</P> + +<P> +"You are good to us, Murray," she said gratefully. "Maybe it won't +sound gracious, but Allan always told me I could rely on you at all +times. You've never given me reason to doubt it. But I hadn't thought +to hear you talk that way. I'm real glad we had this talk. I'm real +glad I came. I don't just know how to thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you try, ma'am," was the man's dry response. "Guess I've yet +got to show you I can make my talk good before you need to think +thanks. And, anyway, maybe the thanks'll need to come from me before +we're through." +</P> + +<P> +He picked up the letter on the desk before him, and glanced at it. +Then he flung it aside. Ailsa Mowbray waited for him to go on. But as +he gave no further sign she was forced to a question. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand," she said at last. "How do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray laughed. It was the easy, ready laugh the woman was accustomed +to. +</P> + +<P> +"There's some things that aren't easy to put into words. Not even to a +mother." His eyes had become serious again. "There's some things that +always make a feller feel foolish—when you put 'em into words." +</P> + +<P> +The mother's thought darted at once to the only possible interpretation +of his preamble. Her woman's instinct was alert. She waited. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe it's not the time to talk of these things, ma'am. But—but it's +mighty difficult to figger such time when it comes along. I've got a +letter here makes me want to holler 'help.' It's from a feller we all +know, and most of us like well enough. For me, I'm scared of him. +Scared to death. He's the only man I've ever felt that way towards in +my life." +</P> + +<P> +His words were accompanied by another laugh so ringing that Ailsa +Mowbray was forced to a smile at his care-free way of stating his fears. +</P> + +<P> +"Your terror's most alarming," she said comfortably. "Will you tell me +of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Murray picked up the letter again and stared at it. "Have you +got any feller fixed in your mind you're yearning for your daughter +Jessie to marry?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was abrupt, startling. And somehow to Ailsa Mowbray it +was as though a fierce winter blast had suddenly descended upon her +heart. +</P> + +<P> +"I—don't think I'd thought about it—seriously," the mother replied +after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +Murray swung about and faced her. His eyes were serious. There could +be no mistaking his earnestness. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't figger how you're going to take what I've got to say, ma'am. +I said the 'thanks' might be all due from me, before we're through. I +don't know. Anyway, I guess I need to get busy right away in the way +it seems to me best." +</P> + +<P> +"You want to marry—Jessie?" +</P> + +<P> +The mother's question came without any enthusiasm. There was even +coldness in it. +</P> + +<P> +"More than anything in the world, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +The sincerity of the man was in every line of his face. It shone in +the burning depths of his eyes. It rang in the vibrant tones of his +voice. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the mother glanced about her rather helplessly. Then she +gathered her faculties with an effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Have—have you asked her?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray further added a helpless gesture with her hands. It +seemed to be the cue the man was awaiting. +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am," he reiterated. "I'd have spoken months ago, but—for the +things that's happened. Maybe you won't just get it when I say that +with Allan around the position was clear as day. It was up to me to +leave her folks till I'd asked her. Now it's different. Jessie has no +father behind her. Only her mother. And her mother has no husband +behind her to help her figger her daughter's future right. Now I come +to you, ma'am. Guess I'm a plain man more ways than one. I'm just +thirty-five. I've a goodish stake in this proposition of ours, and can +give your daughter all she needs of the world's goods. I love her, and +want her bad, ma'am. If she'll marry me, why, I'll just do all I know +to make her happy." +</P> + +<P> +The appeal was full of simple, straightforward honesty. There could be +no denying it. Even its crudity was all in its favor. But all this +passed Ailsa Mowbray completely by. +</P> + +<P> +"What made you choose this moment?" she questioned, avoiding any direct +answer. +</P> + +<P> +Murray laughed. It was a laugh which hid his real feelings. He held +up the letter. +</P> + +<P> +"John Kars is coming along up." +</P> + +<P> +"And so you spoke—before he came." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Suddenly Murray flung the letter on the desk in a fashion that +said more than words. "I'm scared of John Kars, ma'am, because I want +to marry your daughter. I'm no coward. But I know myself, and I know +him. Here am I ready to meet John Kars, or a dozen of his kind, in any +play known to man, except rivalry for a woman. He's got them all where +he wants them from the jumping off mark. It's only natural, too. Look +at him. If he'd stepped out of the picture frame of the Greek Gods he +couldn't have a better window dressing. He's everything a woman ever +dreamed of in a man. He's all this country demands in its battles. +Then take a peek at me. You'll find a feller cussed to death with a +figure that's an insult to a prime hog. What's inside don't figger a +cent. The woman don't look beyond the face and figure, and the +capacity to do. Maybe I can do all John Kars can do. But when it +comes to face and figure, it's not a race. No, ma'am, it's a +procession. And I'm taking his dust all the time." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think Jessie is—likes John Kars?" The mother's question came +thoughtfully. To Murray it was evident the direction in which she was +leaning. +</P> + +<P> +"She'd need to be a crazy woman if she didn't," he retorted bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +Then he rose from his seat, and moved over to the window. He stood +gazing out of it. Ailsa Mowbray's eyes followed his movements. They +regarded him closely, and she thought of his own description of +himself. Yes, he was not beautiful. Wholesome, strong, capable. But +he was fat—so fat. A shortish, tubby man whose figure added ten years +to his age. +</P> + +<P> +But with his face towards the window, his strong tones came back to +her, and held her whole attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am. She likes him. But I don't guess it's more than +that—yet. Maybe it would never become more if you discouraged it. I +could even think she'd forget to remember the queer figure I cut in the +eyes of a woman—if it suited you to tell her diff'rent. It seems a +pretty mean proposition for a feller to have to hand his love interests +over to another, even when it's the girl's mother. But whatever I can +do in the affairs of the life about us, whatever my ability, ma'am, to +put through the business side of our affairs, I guess I'm mighty short +winded in the race for a woman's love, and—know it. Say, you guessed +just now you owed me thanks for the things I figger to do for you. I'd +say if you'd feel like helping me to marry Jessie I'd owe you more +thanks on the balance than I can ever hope to pay off." +</P> + +<P> +He abruptly turned back from the window. He stepped quickly towards +her, his movements surprising in their vigor. He looked down into the +woman's handsome, but now lined, face, and his eyes shone with a +burning fire tremendously compelling. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa felt the influence he wielded. She read the strength of the +man's emotion. She knew that for once she was being permitted a sight +of the man behind his mask of smiling serenity. Nor were these things +without effect. Furthermore, her own sense warned her that in the best +interests of their affairs, of the girl, herself, Murray McTavish was +certainly the husband for Jessie. But even so there was more than +reluctance. There was desperate distaste. The romantic vision of John +Kars, the wealthiest mine owner in Leaping Horse, the perfect +adventurer of the northern trail, rose before her eyes, and made her +hesitate. In the end, however, she thrust it aside and rose from her +chair, and held out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I can promise no result," she said seriously, and she knew it was +subterfuge, "I'll do my best. Anyway, your cause shan't suffer at my +hands. Will that do?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish took her warm hand in both of his. He held it tightly +for a few seconds. +</P> + +<P> +"My thanks begin from now, ma'am," he said. "I guess they'll go right +on to—the end." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING +</H3> + + +<P> +Jessie Mowbray left the Mission House as the last of the small crowd of +copper-hued pappooses bundled pell-mell in the direction of the teepees +and cabins of their dusky parents. +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments she stood there in the open with pensive eyes +following the movements of scurrying, toddling legs, many of them +encased in the minutest of buckskin, chap-like pantaloons and the +tiniest of beaded moccasins. It was a sight that yielded her a +tenderness of emotion that struggled hard to dispel the cloud which her +father's death had caused to settle over the joyous spirit of her young +life. +</P> + +<P> +In a measure it was not without success. The smallness of these Indian +children, their helplessness, appealed to her woman's heart as possibly +nothing else could have done. It mattered nothing to her that the +fathers and mothers of these tots belonged to a low type of race +without scruple, or honesty, or decency, or any one of the better +features of the aboriginal. They were as low, perhaps lower than many +of the beasts of the field. But these "pappooses," so quaint and +small, so very helpless, were entirely dependent upon the succor of +Father José's Mission for the hope of their future. The sight of them +warmed her spirit out of the cold depths of her own personal grief, and +left her yearning. +</P> + +<P> +The last of the children vanished within the shelter of the surrounding +woods, where the homes of their parents had been set up. Then movement +in the clearing ceased. All was still in the early evening light. The +soft charm, the peace of the Mission, which had been the outward and +visible sign of her understanding of home all her years, settled once +more, and with it fell the bitter, haunting memory of the tragedy of +seven months ago. +</P> + +<P> +To Jessie Mowbray the tragedy of the life about her had suddenly become +the seriousness of it. In one night she had been robbed of all the +buoyant optimism of youth. As yet she had failed to achieve the smile +of courage under the buffet, just as she had never yet discovered that +the real spirit of life is to achieve hard knocks with the same ready +smile which should accompany acts of kindliness. +</P> + +<P> +Her father had been her hero. And she had been robbed of her hero by +the ruthless hands of the very savages whom it was her daily mission to +help towards enlightenment. The bitterness of it had sunk deeply into +a sensitive heart. She lacked the experiences of life of her mother. +She lacked the Christian fortitude of Father José. She knew nothing of +the iron nerve of Murray, or the youthful selfishness of her brother +Alec. So she shrank under the burden of bereavement, and fostered a +loyal resentment against her father's slayers. +</P> + +<P> +The chill of the northern evening was already in the air. The sunlight +fell athwart the great fringe of foliage which crowned the lank trunks +of primordial pine woods. It lit the clearing with a mellow radiance, +and left the scene tempered with a shadowed beauty, which in all +Jessie's girlhood had never failed to appeal to her. Now it passed her +by. She saw only the crude outline of the great log home, which, for +her, had been desolated. About her were the equally crude Mission +buildings, with Father José's hut a few yards away. Then there was the +light smoke haze from the Indian camp-fires, rising heavily on the +still air, and a smell of cooking was painfully evident. Here and +there a camp dog prowled, great powerful brutes reared to the burden of +the trail. The sound of human voice, too, came from the woodlands, +chanting the droning song of labor which the squaws love to voice +without tune or meaning. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie moved slowly off in the direction of her home. Half-way across +the clearing she paused. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she turned +away and passed down the narrow avenue which led to the landing on the +river. There was an hour to supper. The twilight of her home was less +attractive now than the music of the river, which had so often borne +the burden of Allan Mowbray's laden canoes. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie had lost none of her youthful grace of movement. Her tall +figure, so round with the charms of womanhood, yet so supple, so full +of natural, unfettered grace, made her a delight to the eye. Her +beauty was unquestioned. But the change in her expression was marked. +Her ripe young lips were firmer, harder even. There was, too, a slight +down drooping at the corners of her mouth. Then her eyes had lost +something of their inclination to smile. They were the grave eyes of +one who has passed through an age of suffering. +</P> + +<P> +She moved swiftly to the landing and took up a position on one of the +timber balks set for mooring. She drew her coat about her. The dying +sun lit her ruddy brown hair with its wintry smile, and the song of the +flowing waters caught and lulled her spirit. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish approached her. He came with bristling step and an air +of virile energy. He dragged forward an empty crate, and, setting it +near her, used it for a seat. +</P> + +<P> +She withdrew her gaze from the glacial field beyond the river, and +looked into the man's smiling eyes, as he greeted her. +</P> + +<P> +"There's just about two things liable to hold a young girl sitting +around on the bank of the Snake River, with a spring breeze coming down +off the glacier. One of them's dreams, the sort of romance that don't +belong to these latitudes." +</P> + +<P> +"And the other?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mostly foolishness." +</P> + +<P> +There was no offence in the man's manner. Jessie was forced to smile. +His words were so characteristic. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I guess it's foolishness with me," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I figgered when I saw you making this way, just as I was +leaving the store. Say, that coat's mighty thin. Where's your fur—if +you have to sit around here?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's eyes surveyed the long cloth coat doubtfully. +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not cold." +</P> + +<P> +A sharp, splitting crack, followed by a dull, echoing boom drew the +eyes of both towards the precipitous bank across the river. The great +glacial field had already awakened from its long winter sleep. Once +more it was the living giant of countless ages stirring and heaving +imperceptibly but irresistibly. +</P> + +<P> +The sound died out and the evening peace settled once more upon the +world. In the years of their life upon this river these people had +witnessed thousands, ay, perhaps millions of tons of the discolored ice +of the glacier hurled into the summer melting pot. The tremendous +voice of the glacial world was powerless to disturb them. +</P> + +<P> +Murray gave a short laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess romance has no sort of place in these regions," he said, his +thoughts evidently claimed by the voice they had both just listened to. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie looked round. +</P> + +<P> +"Romance doesn't belong to regions," she said. "Only to the human +heart." +</P> + +<P> +Murray nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"That's so—too." His amiable smile beamed into the girl's serious +eyes. "Those pore darn fools that don't know better than to hunt fish +through holes in the polar ice are just as chock full of romance as any +school miss. Sure. If it depended on conditions I guess we'd need to +go hungry for it. Facts, and desperate hard facts at that, go to make +up life north of 'sixty,' and any one guessing different is li'ble to +find all the trouble Providence is so generous handing out hereabouts." +</P> + +<P> +"I think that way, too—now. I didn't always." +</P> + +<P> +The girl sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +The man seemed to have nothing further to add, and his smile died out. +Jessie was once more reflectively contemplating the masses of +overhanging ice on the opposite bank. The thoughts of both had drifted +back over a space of seven months. +</P> + +<P> +It was the man who finally broke the spell which seemed to have fallen. +He broke it with a movement of impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use?" he said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"No—there's no use. Nothing can ever bring him back to us." The girl +suddenly flung out her hands in a gesture of helpless earnestness and +longing. "Oh, if he might have been spared to me. My daddy, my brave, +brave daddy." +</P> + +<P> +Again a silence fell between them, and again it was the man who finally +broke it. This time there was no impatience. His strange eyes were +serious; they were as deeply earnest as the girl's. But the light in +them suggested a stirring of deep emotion which had nothing of regret +in it. +</P> + +<P> +"His day had to come," he said reflectively. "A man can live and +prosper on the northern trail, I guess, if he's built right. He can +beat it right out, maybe for years. But it's there all the time +waiting—waiting. And it's going to get us all—in the end. That is +if we don't quit before its jaws close on our heels. He was a big man. +He was a strong man. I mean big and strong in spirit. You've lost a +great father, and I a—partner. It's seven months and more +since—since that time." His voice had dropped to a gentle, persuasive +note, his dark eyes gazing urgently at the girl's averted face. "Is it +good to sit around here in the chill evening dreaming, and thinking, +and tearing open afresh a wound time and youths ready to heal up good? +Say, I don't just know how to hand these things right. I don't even +know if they are right. But it kind of seems to me we folk have all +got our work to do in a country that don't stand for even natural +regrets. It seems to me we all got to shut our teeth and get right on, +or we'll pay the penalty this country is only too ready to claim. +Guess we need all the force in us to make good the life north of +'sixty.' Sitting around thinking back's just going to weaken us so +we'll need to hand over the first time our bluff is called." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's sad eyes came back to his as he finished speaking. She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You're surely right. It's no use. It's worse. It's playing +the enemy's game. Mother needs my help. Alec. The little kiddies at +the Mission. You're right, Murray." Then, in a moment of passion her +eyes lit and all that was primitive in her flamed up. "Oh, I could +curse them, I could crush them in these two hands," she cried, suddenly +thrusting out two clenched small fists in impotent threat, +"these—these devils who have killed my daddy!" +</P> + +<P> +The man's regard never wavered. The girl's beauty in the passion of +the moment held him. Never had her desirability appeared greater to +him. It was on the tip of his tongue to pour out hot words of love. +To force her, by the very strength of his passionate determination, to +yield him the place in her heart he most desired. But he refrained. +He remembered in time that such a course must be backed by a physical +attraction which he knew he entirely lacked. That lack must be +compensated for by an added caution. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk that way," he said gently. "It's all been awful. But it +can't be undone now, and—— Say, Jessie, you got your mother, and a +brother who needs you. Guess you're more blessed than I am. I haven't +a soul in the world. I'm just a bit of flotsam drifting through life, +looking for an anchorage, and never finding one. That's how it is I'm +right here now. If I'd had folks I don't guess I'd be north of 'sixty' +now. This place is just the nearest thing to an anchorage I've lit on +yet, but even so I haven't found a right mooring." +</P> + +<P> +"You've no folks—none at all?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's moment of passion had passed. All her sympathy had been +suddenly aroused by the man's effort to help her, and his unusual +admission of his own loneliness. +</P> + +<P> +A shadow of the man's usual smile flickered across his features. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a soul," he said. "Not a father, mother, relative or—or wife. +Sounds mean, don't it?" Quite abruptly he laughed outright. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I could tell you a dandy story of days and nights of lonesomeness. +I could tell you of a boyhood spent chasing the streets o' nights +looking for a sidewalk to crawl under, or a sheltered corner folks +wouldn't drive me out of. I could tell you of hungry days without a +prospect of better to come, of moments when I guessed the cold waters +of Puget Sound looked warmer than the night ahead of me. I could tell +you of a mighty battle fought out in silence and despair. Of a resolve +to make good by any means open to man. I could tell you of strivings +and failures that 'ud come nigh breaking your heart, and a resolve +unbreakable not to yield. Gee, I've known it all, all the kicks life +can hand a derelict born under an evil influence. Say, I don't even +know who my parents were." +</P> + +<P> +"I never thought—I never knew——" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's words were wrung from her by her feelings. In a moment this +man had appeared to her in a new light. There was no sign of weakness +or self-pity in Murray as he went on. He was smiling as usual, that +smile that always contained something of a mocking irony. +</P> + +<P> +"Pshaw! It don't figger anyway—now. Nothing figgers now but the +determination never to find such days—and nights again. I said I need +to find a real mooring. A mooring such as Allan found when he found +your mother. Well, maybe I shall. I'm hoping that way. But even +there Nature's done all she knows to hand me a blank. I'd like to say +look at me, and see the scurvy trick Nature's handed out my way. But I +won't. Gee, no. Still I'll find that mooring if I have to buy it with +the dollars I mean to wring out of this devil's own country." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's feelings had been caught and held through sympathy. Sympathy +further urged her. This man had failed to appeal before. A feeling of +gentle pity stirred her. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say that," she cried, all her ideals outraged by the suggestion +of purchasing the natural right of every man. "There's a woman's love +for every man in the world. That surely is so. Guess it's the good +God's scheme of things. Saint or sinner it doesn't matter a thing. +We're as God made us. And He's provided for all our needs. Some day +you'll wonder what it was ever made you feel this way. Some day," she +went on, smiling gently into the round face and the glowing eyes +regarding her, "when you're old, and rich, and happy in the bosom of +your family, in a swell house, maybe in New York City, you'll likely +get wondering how it came you sat right here making fool talk to a girl +denying the things Providence had set out for you." Her pretty eyes +became grave as she leaned forward earnestly. "Say, I can see it all +for you now. The picture's standing right out clear. I can see your +wife now——" +</P> + +<P> +The man smiled at her earnestness as she paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie nodded. Her gaze was turned upon the far reach of the river. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. She's medium height—like you. She's a woman of sort of +practical motherly instinct. Her eyes are blue, and clear, and fine, +revealing the wholesome mind behind. She'll be slim, I guess, and her +gown's just swell—real swell. She'll——" +</P> + +<P> +The man broke in on an impulse which he was powerless to deny. +</P> + +<P> +"She won't be tall?" he demanded, his eyes shining into hers with an +intensity which made Jessie shrink before them. "She won't move with +the grace of—of a Juno, straight limbed, erect? She won't have dandy +gray eyes that look through and beyond all the time? She won't have +lovely brown hair which sort of reflects the old sun every time it +shines on it? She won't have a face so beautiful it sets a feller just +crazy to look at it? Say, if it was like that," he cried, in a voice +thrilling with passion, "I'd feel I didn't owe Providence the kick +I've——" +</P> + +<P> +How far his feelings would have carried him it was impossible to say. +He had been caught off his guard, and had flung caution to the winds. +But he was spared the possible consequences by an interruption which +would not be denied. It was an interruption which had claimed them +both at the same instant. +</P> + +<P> +A sound came out of the distance on the still evening air. It came +from the bend of the river where it swung away to the northwest. It +was the sound of the dipping of many paddles, a sound which was of +paramount importance to these people at all times. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was on her feet first. Nor was Murray a second behind her. +Both were gazing intently out in the growing dusk. Simultaneously an +exclamation broke from them. Then the girl spoke while the man +remained silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Canoes," she said. "One, two, three, four—five. Five canoes. I +know whose they are." +</P> + +<P> +Murray was standing close beside her, the roundness of his ungainly +figure aggravated by the contrast. He, too, was gazing hard at the +flotilla. He, too, had counted the canoes as they came into view. He, +too, had recognized them, just as he had recognized the thrill of +delighted anticipation in the girl's voice as she announced her +recognition of them. +</P> + +<P> +He knew, no one better, all that lay behind the shining gray of the +girl's eyes as she beheld the canoes approach. He needed no words to +tell him. And he thanked his stars for the interruption which had +saved him carrying his moment of folly further. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes expressed no anticipation. Their glowing fires seemed to have +become extinguished. There was no warmth in them. There was little +life in their darkly brooding watchfulness. Never was a contrast so +deeply marked between two watchers of the same object. The man was +cold, his expression hard. It was an expression before which even his +habitual smile had been forced to flee. Jessie was radiant. +Excitement surged till she wanted to cry out. To call the name that +was on her lips. +</P> + +<P> +Instead, however, she turned swiftly upon the man at her side, who +instantly read the truth in the radiant gray eyes gazing into his. +</P> + +<P> +"It's—John Kars," she said soberly. Then in a moment came a +repetition. "Fancy. John Kars!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TWO MEN OF THE NORTH +</H3> + + +<P> +North, south, east, west. There was, perhaps, no better known name in +the wide northern wilderness than that of John Kars. In his buoyant +way he claimed for himself, at thirty-two, that he was the "oldest +inhabitant" of the northland. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was he without some justification. For, at the age of thirteen, +accompanying his father, he had formed one of the small band of gold +seekers who fought their way to the "placers" of Forty-mile Creek years +before the great Yukon rush. +</P> + +<P> +He was one of those who helped to open the gates of the country. His +child's muscles and courage had done their duty beside those of far +older men. They had taken their share in forcing the icy portals of a +land unknown, and terror-ridden. He had endured the agony of the first +great battle against the overwhelming legions of Nature. He had +survived, all unprepared and without experience. It was a struggle +such as none of those who came later were called upon to endure. For +all that has been told of the sufferings of the Yukon rush they were +incomparable with those which John Kars had been called upon to endure +at an age when the terror of it all might well have overwhelmed him. +</P> + +<P> +But he had done more than survive. Good fortune and sanity had been +his greatest assets. The first seemed to have been his all through. +Sanity only came to him at the cost of other men's experience. For all +his hardihood he was deeply human. The early temptations of Leaping +Horse had appealed to the virile youth in him. He had had his falls. +But there was something in the blood of the youth which quickly +convinced him of the folly of the life about him. So he, to use his +own expression, "quit the poultry ranch" and "hit the bank roll trail," +and good fortune followed hard behind him like a faithful spouse. +</P> + +<P> +He became rich. His wealth became a byword. And later, when, out of +disorder and vice, the city of Leaping Horse grew to capital +importance, he became surfeited with the accumulations of wealth which +rolled in upon him from his manifold interests. +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that the man which the Yukon world now knew suddenly +developed. He could have retired to the pleasant avenues of +civilization. He could have entered public life in any of the great +capitals of the world. But these things had no appeal for him. +</P> + +<P> +The battle of the trail had left a fever in his blood. He was smitten +with the disease of Ishmael. Then, before all, and above all, he +counted the northland his home. So, when everything the world could +yield him lay at his feet, the drear, silent north trail only knew him. +His interests in the golden world of Leaping Horse were left behind +him, while he satisfied his passion in the far hidden back countries +where man is a mere incident in the world's unbroken silences. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, yes, his quest was gold, frankly gold. But not in relation to +values. He sought gold for the joy of search, to provide excuse. He +sought gold for the romance of it, he sought it because adventure lay +in the track of virgin gold as it lies nowhere else. Besides, the +battle of it suited the man's hardihood. +</P> + +<P> +Once, to his philosopher friend, Dr. Bill Brudenell of Leaping Horse, +he said, "Life's just a shanty most every feller starts right in to set +up for himself. And I guess more than half of 'em couldn't set two +bricks right. It seems to me if you're going to make life a reasonable +proposition you need to start in from the beginning of things, and act +the way you see clearest. It's no use groping around in a fog just +because folks reckon it's up to you to act that way. If you can't set +two bricks right, then set one. Anyway, do the things you can do, and +don't kick because you can't do more. The trail I know. Gold I know. +The Yukon I know. Then what's the use in quittin' it fer something I +don't know, and don't care a cuss for anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +This was the man, simple, direct. Wealth meant nothing to him. It was +there. It sometimes seemed like snowing him under. He couldn't help +it. Life was all he wanted. The life he loved, the life which gave +him room in which to stretch his great body. The life which demanded +the play of his muscles of steel. The life which absorbed every mental +faculty in its simple preservation. He was, as Bill once said: "A +primitive, an elemental creature, a man destined for the altar of the +gods of the wilderness when the sands of his time ran out." +</P> + +<P> +What wonder then that Jessie Mowbray's eyes should shine with a light +such as only one man can inspire. +</P> + +<P> +Her delight was unrestrained as the flotilla drew near, and she +descried the familiar figure of its leader. Then came the ringing +greeting across the water. Nor could the manner of her response be +mistaken. Murray saw, he heard and understood. And so the fixity of +his smiling greeting which completely masked his feelings. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars' manner owed nothing to convention. But it was governed by a +sureness of touch, a perfect tact, and a great understanding of those +with whom he came into contact. To him man was simply man. Woman was +just woman. The latter claimed the last atom of his chivalrous regard +at all times. The former possessed only the distinction which his +qualities entitled him to. +</P> + +<P> +He grasped the warm, soft hand outheld to him as he leaped out of his +canoe. The girl's shining eyes looked up into his bronzed, clean-cut +features with the confidence of one who understands the big spirit +stirring behind them. She listened responsively to the simple greeting +which fell so naturally from his firm lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it's good to see you all again. Home?" He glanced swiftly round +at the scene about them. "This is home, I guess." Then he laughed. +"The other," he went on, with a backward jerk of the head to indicate +Leaping Horse, whence he had just come, "why, the other's just a sort +of dumping ground for the waste left over—after home's finished with +things. Bill, here, don't feel that way. He guesses we're on an +unholy vacation with home at the other end. You can't get the same +sense out of different heads." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to Murray with a cordiality which was only less by reason of +the sex of its object. "And Murray, too. Well, say, it's worth while. +It surely is." +</P> + +<P> +The trader's response was all sufficient. But his smile contained no +added warmth, and his hand-shake lacked the grip it received. +</P> + +<P> +In five minutes John Kars had made his explanations. But they were +made to Jessie. Murray was left on the fringe of their talk. +</P> + +<P> +He told her in his rapid, easy fashion that he was out for the whole +open season. That he'd practically had to kidnap Bill from his beloved +Leaping Horse. That his old friend was just recovering from his +consequent grouch, and, anyway, folks mustn't expect anything more than +common civility from him as yet. He said that he hoped to make Fort +Wrigley on the Mackenzie River some time in the summer, and maybe even +Fort Simpson. But that would be the limit. By that time, he guessed +Bill would have mutinied and probably murdered him. He said he hoped +to appease the said Doctor with a good bag of game. But even that was +problematical, as Bill had never been known to hit anything smaller +than a haystack in his life. +</P> + +<P> +So he talked with the daughter of his old friend Allan Mowbray, knowing +of the man's murder by the Indians, but never by word or sign reminding +the girl of her loss. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime Bill Brudenell deliberately completed the work of +superintending the "snugging" of the canoes for the night. He heard +his friend's charges, and smiled his retorts with pointed sarcasm. And +Jessie understood, for she knew these two, and their great friendship. +And Dr. Bill—well, she regarded him as a sort of delightful uncle who +never told her of her faults, or recommended his own methods of +performing the difficult task of getting through life successfully. +</P> + +<P> +When all was ready they moved off the landing towards the Mission +clearing. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray was preparing supper. The scones were nearly ready in +the oven, and she watched them with a skilful eye. +</P> + +<P> +She looked still older in her moments of solitude. The change in her +wrought by the last seven months must have been heart-breaking to those +who had not seen her since that dreadful night of tragedy. But her +spirit was unimpaired. There were her two children left, and a +merciful Providence had bestowed upon her a world of maternal devotion. +For all her grief, she had not been entirely robbed of that which made +life possible. Her husband lived again in the children he had blessed +her with. +</P> + +<P> +Had she so chosen she might have severed herself forever from the life +which had so deeply wounded her. Her fortune made it possible to seek +comfort in the heart of the world's great civilization. But the +thought of it never entered her simple head. She was a born housewife. +The love of her home, and its care, was part of her. That home which +had yielded her her greatest joys and her greatest trial. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes the thought would obtrude that Jessie deserved something more +than the drear life of the northland. But the girl herself dispelled +these thoughts. Like her mother, she had no desire beyond the home she +had always known. +</P> + +<P> +When Jessie hurried into the spotless kitchen her mother glanced +quickly up from her cook-stove. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" she demanded, at the sight of the eager eyes and parted +lips. "You're——" She broke off with a smile. "There, child," she +added, "you don't need to tell it. Your face does that. John Kars has +come up the river." +</P> + +<P> +The girl flushed scarlet. Her eyes were horrified. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, mother," she cried dismayed, "am I so easy to read? Can—can +anybody read me like—you can?" +</P> + +<P> +The mother's eyes were very tender. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe John Kars can anyway," she said reassuringly. "You +see, he's a man. Is he coming along over?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's relief was as obvious as her momentary dismay. The flush of +shame faded from her pretty cheeks. Her eyes were again dancing with +delight. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, sure, mother," she cried. "He's coming right over—after they've +fixed things with Father José. I don't think they'll be to supper. +Dr. Bill's with him, of course. And say, aren't they just two dears? +To see them together, and hear their fool talk, you'd think them two +kids instead of two of the big men of the country. It must be good to +keep a heart so young all the time. I think, mother, they must be good +men. Real good men. I don't mean like Father José. But the sort who +do things square because they like square living. I—I wish they lived +here all the time. I—I don't know which I like best." +</P> + +<P> +"I do." +</P> + +<P> +The mother set the scones on the table and glanced over it with +approving eyes. The girl's protest came swiftly but playfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Be quiet, you mother dear," she cried, her ready blushes mounting +again. "Don't you dare to say—things. I——" +</P> + +<P> +The mother only smiled the more deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"Best go and round Alec up. Supper's ready." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"He's at the barns fixing his outfit with Keewin," she said. "He +reckons to break trail in a few days. Say, Murray's gone across to +Father José with them. Will I get him, too?" Then she added +thoughtfully, "Do you know, mother, I don't think Murray's glad to see +John Kars. He's sort of quiet with him around. I don't know. I don't +reckon he likes him. I wonder why?" +</P> + +<P> +The mother's eyes searched her daughter's face. Her smile must have +been full of meaning for any one less simple than the girl before her. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no accounting the way men feel for each other," she said at +last. "Maybe Murray guesses John Kars is butting into our trade. +Maybe he's anxious to keep the country to ourselves. You see, these +folks aren't traders, and we are." +</P> + +<P> +The girl became indignant at once. +</P> + +<P> +"But he's no right to feel that way," she cried. "The country's free. +It's big enough for us all. Besides, if John Kars isn't a trader, +where's the trouble? I think Murray's mean. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +The mother shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Best go and call the men-folk," she said, in her direct fashion. +"Murray can see to his likes and dislikes the same as he can see to +most things he's set on." Then she smiled. "Anyway, I don't suppose +it figgers any with you around. John Kars isn't likely to suffer from +it." +</P> + +<P> +Just for one instant the girl's eyes answered the mother's gentle +challenge. Then she went off firing her parting shot over her shoulder +as she vanished through the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"I've always thought Murray mean—for—for all his fat smile. I—just +hate meanness." +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray was startled. Nothing could have startled her more. In +all the years of their association with Murray she had never before +heard so direct an expression of dislike from either of her children. +It troubled her. She had not been blind to Alec's feelings. Ever +since the boy had grown to manhood she had known there had been +antagonism between them. She was never likely to forget the scene on +the night her husband's appeal for help reached her. But Jessie. +</P> + +<P> +She was disquieted. She was wondering, too. And, wondering, the +memory of her promise to Murray rose up threateningly before her. She +turned slowly back to the stove for no definite purpose, and, so +turning, she shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +Later, Jessie returned, the last sign of her ill-humor completely gone. +Behind her came the two men of her mother's household. And so the +evening meal progressed to its conclusion. +</P> + +<P> +Later still Father José and his two visitors foregathered in the +hospitable living-room, and, for the time at least, Ailsa Mowbray gave +no further thought to her disquiet, or to the appeal Murray had made to +her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY +</H3> + + +<P> +For a whole week Ailsa Mowbray was given no further opportunity of +dwelling upon the possibilities of the situation between Jessie and +Murray McTavish. John Kars pervaded the Mission with a personality too +buoyant to allow of lurking shadows. On the mother he had an effect +like the voice of hope urging her to a fuller appreciation of the life +about her, an even greater desire for the fulfilment of those +responsibilities which the passing of her husband had thrust upon her. +His great figure, his strong, reliant face, his decision of manner, all +combined to sweep any doubt from the path of the simple folk at St. +Agatha's Mission. +</P> + +<P> +The only person who escaped his cheering influence, perhaps, was Murray +McTavish. Father José yielded Kars a friendship and liking almost +equal to the friendship which had sent him to Leaping Horse in the +depths of winter on behalf of Allan Mowbray's widow. This man was a +rock upon which the old priest, for all his own strength of character, +was not ashamed to seek support. To Alec he was something of a hero in +all those things for which his youthful soul yearned. Was he not the +master of great wealth? Did he not live in Leaping Horse, where life +pulsated with a rush, and no lagging, sluggish stream of existence +could find a place? Then, too, the instinct of the trail which the +youth had inherited from his father, was not John Kars endowed with it +all? +</P> + +<P> +But the week of this man's stay had more meaning for Jessie than for +any one else. Her frank delight in his presence found no denial. +Every shadow was banished out of her life by it. Her days were +rendered doubly bright. Her nights were illuminated by happy dreams. +His kindness to her, his evident delight in her company, were sources +of unspeakable happiness. +</P> + +<P> +He had brought presents for them all, he had reserved the best and +costliest for Jessie. Yet no word of love passed his lips, no act of +his could have been interpreted as an expression of such by the most +jealous-minded. Nor had the girl any thought but of the delight of the +moments spent with him, and of the shadow his going must inevitably +leave behind. +</P> + +<P> +The mother watched. She understood. And, understanding, she dreaded +more than she admitted even to herself. She felt that her child would +awaken presently to the reality, and then—what then? Would John Kars +pass on? Would he come again, and again pass on? And Murray. Murray +was always in the back of her mind. +</P> + +<P> +The last day came. It was a day of labor and preparation at the +landing. Under the supervision of Kars and Bill the work went forward +to its completion, with a precision and care for detail which means +perhaps the difference between safety and disaster on the long trail. +Nothing was too small for the consideration of these men in their +understanding of the fierce wilderness which they had made their own. +</P> + +<P> +Their spirits were high. It was the care-free spirit which belongs to +the real adventurer. That spirit which alone can woo and win the +smiles of the wanton gods of the wilderness. The landing was alive +with activity. Father José found excuse for his presence there. Even +Ailsa Mowbray detached herself from the daily routine of her labors to +watch the work going forward. Nor was there a moment when a small +crowd of the Indian converts of the Mission were not assembled in the +hope that the great white hunter might be disposed to distribute at +least a portion of tobacco by way of largesse. Murray, too, found his +way thither. And his mood seemed to have improved. Perhaps it was the +knowledge of the going of these people on the morrow which stirred his +spirits to match their own. +</P> + +<P> +And Jessie? Jessie found every excuse she desired to add her presence +at the bank of the river. The day for her was all too short. For her +it was full of the excitement of departure, with the regret at the +going looming like a shadow and shutting out her sun. She concealed +nothing from herself, while her smile and happy laughter banished every +sign of all it really meant. +</P> + +<P> +So the day wore on till the last of the evening light found everything +ready for the morning's departure. All stores were bestowed under +their lashed coverings, and the canoes lay deep in the water. Then +came the evening festival planned by Ailsa in her hospitable home. A +homely supper, and a gathering of all the white folk of the post. It +was all so simple. But it was just such as these people understood and +appreciated. It was the outward sign of the profound bond which held +them all in a land that is eternally inhospitable. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly midnight when the party broke up. Farewells were said +and the men departed. Jessie, herself, closed the heavy door upon the +last of them. Alec bade his mother and sister good-night, and betook +himself to his belated rest. Mother and daughter were left alone. +</P> + +<P> +The mother's knitting needles were still clicking busily as she sat +beside the great stove, whose warmth was a necessity in the chill of +the spring evenings. Jessie came slowly over and stood gazing down at +the fierce glow radiating beneath the iron door, where the damper had +been withdrawn. +</P> + +<P> +No word was spoken for some moments. Then a sound broke the quiet of +the room. It was the sound of a stifled sob, and the mother looked up +anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, child!" she cried, and sprang to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment her protecting arms were about the pretty figure of the +girl, and she drew her to her bosom, with a world of tender affection. +</P> + +<P> +For some moments Jessie struggled with her tears. The mother said no +word. It was the gentle hand stroking the girl's beautiful hair which +spoke for the lips which sympathy had rendered dumb. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the half-stifled confession which could no longer be denied. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, mother, mother!" the girl cried, through her sobs. "I—I can't +help it. I—I love him, and—and he's gone." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Dr. Bill had gone on with Father José. To Murray's surprise, John Kars +expressed his intention of accompanying him up to the Fort, which was +the former's sleeping quarters. Murray was astonished. Nor was it a +companionship he in the least desired. The prospect even robbed him of +some of the satisfaction which the departure on the morrow inspired. +Still he was left with no choice. To refuse him on any pretext would +only be to show his hand, and bring into active expression all the +bitter feeling which lay smoldering behind his exterior of cordiality. +</P> + +<P> +He knew what John Kars meant to his hopes with regard to Jessie +Mowbray. He had admitted that he feared him. The past week had only +confirmed those fears beyond all question. He realized, surely enough, +that, whatever Kars' feelings, Jessie's were unmistakable. He knew +that time and opportunity must inevitably complete the destiny before +them. Just now it seemed to him that only something in the nature of a +miracle could help him. +</P> + +<P> +Reluctantly enough he led the way up to the grim old Fort. The path +lay through the woods, which only extended to the lower slopes of the +bald knoll upon which it stood. The moonless night made no difference +to him. He could have made the journey blindfolded. +</P> + +<P> +At the summit Murray led the way round to the gateway of the stockade, +and passed within. He was still speculating, as he had speculated the +whole way up, as to the purpose of this visit. He only saw in one +direction, at the moment, and that direction was the girl he desired +for wife. If she were to be the subject of their talk, well, he could +match any words of this man, whom he knew to be his rival. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the room, which served him as an office, Murray lit an oil lamp +on his desk. Then he set a chair for his visitor so that he should +face the light. Kars flung himself into it, while the trader took his +place before the desk, and tilted his swivel chair back at a +comfortable angle, his round smiling face cordially regarding his +companion. +</P> + +<P> +Kars bulked large in the light of the lamp. The chair under him was +completely hidden. He was of very great size and Murray could not help +but admire the muscular body, without a spare ounce of that burden of +fat under which he labored. Then the keen eyes under the strongly +marked brows. The well-shaped nose, so suggestive of the power +expressed in every line of his features. The clean-shaven lips and +chin, almost rugged in their suggestion of purpose. And above all the +curling dark hair, now bared by the removal of his beaver cap. +</P> + +<P> +Kars permitted not a moment's delay in announcing the purpose of his +visit. +</P> + +<P> +"I waited till now to have this talk, Murray, because—why, because I +don't think I could have helped things for you folks waking memories +before. I got to talk about Allan Mowbray, about the Bell River +neches. And I take it you're wisest on both subjects." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were grave. Nor did Murray fail to observe the sternness +which gravity gave to the rest of his face. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had the story of these things as the trail knows it. An' as the +gossips of Leaping Horse figgered it out. But I don't reckon I need to +tell you Ananias didn't forget to shed his old wardrobe over the north +country gossips when he cashed in. Do you feel like saying some?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's reply came without hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, sure," he replied. "All I know." +</P> + +<P> +Neither by look, nor tone, did his manner convey his dislike. His +smile was amiability itself. Yet under it his feelings were bitter. +</P> + +<P> +He stooped abruptly and groped in a small cupboard beside his desk. A +moment later he set a whisky bottle and two glasses in front of him, +and pushed one of the latter towards his visitor. Then he reached the +water carafe and set it beside them. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Scotch," he said invitingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks." +</P> + +<P> +Kars helped himself and watered it down considerably. +</P> + +<P> +"It needs strong water in the stomach of the feller who's got to raise +the ghosts of Bell River. Gee, the thought makes me weaken." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's smile had vanished. He had by no means exaggerated his +feelings. The truth of his words was in his mysterious eyes. It was +in the eagerness of his action in raising the glass of spirit to his +lips. Kars watched him gulp down his drink thirstily. The sight of it +prepared him. He felt that he had done more than well in thus delaying +all reference to the murder of Allan Mowbray. If this were its effect +on Murray, what would it have been on Jessie, or her mother? +</P> + +<P> +The glasses were set back on the desk in silence. Kars had something +of the waiting attitude of a great watchful dog. He permitted no word +or action of his to urge the man before him. He wanted the story in +Murray's own way, and his own time. His own reasons for requesting it +were—his own. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an ugly story," Murray announced, his eyes regarding his +companion with a stare that passed through, and traveled far beyond +him. "I don't just see where to start." He stirred in his chair with +a nervous movement. "Allan was a pretty big man. I guess his nerve +was never really all out, even in this hellish country. It was as +strong as chilled steel. It was a nerve that left danger hollerin' +help. He didn't know fear—which isn't good in this land. You need to +know fear if you're to win out. There's times in this latitude you +need to be scared—badly scared—if you're to make good all the time." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm scared most all the time." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's eyes became alert. A shadow of his smile returned to his +lips. It was gone again in a second. He replenished his glass and +produced cigars. Both men helped themselves, and, in a moment, the +fragrant smoke clouded about the globe of the oil lamp. +</P> + +<P> +"Allan was 'mushing' the long trail, same as he'd done years in the +open season," Murray said, drawing a deep sigh as he opened his story. +"I don't rightly know his itinerary. Y'see Allan had his trade secrets +which he didn't hand on to a soul. Not even his partner. But," he +leaned forward impressively, and Kars caught the full glow of his +earnest eyes, "Bell River wasn't on his schedule. We'd agreed to leave +it alone. It's fierce for a white man. It's been so years. The trade +there isn't worth the chances. He knew it. I knew it. We'd agreed to +cut it out." +</P> + +<P> +"But he went there—why?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' question was the obvious one, and Murray's fleshy shoulders +answered it. He sat back in his chair moodily puffing at his cigar. +His eyes were on his desk. It was moments before he replied. +</P> + +<P> +At last he reached out and seizing his glass drank the contents at a +gulp. Then he leaned forward. His voice was deep. But his eyes were +steady and questioning. +</P> + +<P> +"That question'll never find its answer," he said. "Anyway he went +there. It was from there we got his call for help. It came by a +runner. It came to his wife. Not to me. He'd sent to me days before, +and it hadn't come through. Guess that call of his was a farewell to +his wife. The game must have been played when he wrote it, and I guess +he was wise to it. Say"—he sat back in his chair and pushed his fat +fingers through his hair—"it makes me sweat thinking of it." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' silent nod of sympathy was followed by a kindly warning. +</P> + +<P> +"Take your time." +</P> + +<P> +"Time?" A mirthless laugh responded to the caution. "It don't need +time. Anyway time's not calculated to make it easier. It's all right +before me now, set out as only the fiend-spawn of Bell River can set it +out." His tone deepened and he spoke more rapidly. "We got that call +in the evening. An hour after I was hot foot down the river with an +outfit of thirty neches, armed with an arsenal of weapons." His tone +grew. His eyes shone fiercely, and a deep passion seemed to stir him. +"Say, they reckon I can drive hard on the river. They reckon I've got +neither mercy, nor feeling when it comes to putting things through. I +proved all they said that trip. I drove those crews as if hades was on +our heels. I didn't spare them or myself. We made Bell River a day +under the time I figgered, and some of the boys were well-nigh dead. +Say, I guessed the clock hands were runnin' out the life of my big +friend, and—well, the life of my fellers didn't weigh an ounce in the +balance. But I was late. Late by a day." +</P> + +<P> +He broke off and dashed more whisky into his glass. He drank it down +neat. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you need more?" His eyes shone, and his voice rose. Then came his +mirthless laugh again. "Yes, best have it all. Oh, it's pretty. As +pretty as if demons had fixed it. We found him. What was left of him. +He was well-nigh hacked to dog meat, and around him were the bodies of +some of his boys. Oh, he'd put up an elegant scrap. He'd fought 'em +at something more than man for man. The Bell River dead lay about +round that bluff on the river bank in heaps. He'd fought 'em to the +last man, and I guess that was Allan. He'd fought 'em as Allan Mowbray +only knew how to fight. And he'd died as just he knew how to die. A +man." +</P> + +<P> +His voice ceased and in the silence John Kars drew a deep breath. A +great sympathy was stirring him. But he had no words to offer, and +presently the other went on. +</P> + +<P> +"We gathered him up, and the frost helped us. So we brought him right +along home. He's buried here inside this old stockade. His grave's +marked. Alec made the cross, I set it up. An' Jessie—why, Jessie +wrote some on it. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +Kars rose to his feet. His cigar was out. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," he said, with curious formality. +</P> + +<P> +Then he relit his cigar. He stood for a moment as though debating with +himself. Murray remained in his chair. Somehow his fat figure seemed +to have become huddled. His gaze, too, seemed to have only his +thoughts to dwell upon. +</P> + +<P> +At last Kars went on. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't ask all this for any sort of curiosity," he said. "I asked +it because I need to know. I'm mushing a long trail myself this year, +an' I guess my way's likely taking me in the region of Bell River, +before I git back here next fall. Guess I've got that yellow streak a +feller needs to make good," he went on, his gravity thawing under a +shadowy smile. "And you figger Bell River's mighty unhealthy for a +white man about now." +</P> + +<P> +While the other was talking the last vestige of Murray's preoccupation +seemed to fall from him. He was alert. He rose from his chair. His +decision was full, and strong, and emphatic, when he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Unhealthy? It don't say a thing. Avoid Bell River, or you'll regret +it. They're devils let loose. I tell you right here you'll need an +outfit of half a hundred to pass safe through that country. They got a +taste for white man's outfit now. Time was when they fancied only +neche scalps. It's not that way now. No, sir. I'm figgering now how +long we'll be safe here, in this Fort. There's just two hundred and +odd miles between us, and—— Say, when do you figger you're making +that way? Fall?" Kars nodded. "The time they got Allan. Don't do +it. I warn you solemnly. And I guess I—know." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's warning was delivered with urgency. There was no mistaking +its sincerity. He seemed to have risen above his antipathy for this +man. He seemed only concerned to save another from a disaster similar +to that which had befallen his partner. +</P> + +<P> +Kars thanked him and held out one powerful hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm obliged," he said, in a sober way as they gripped hands. "I've +had full warning, and, maybe, it's going to save me trouble. Anyway if +my way does take me around that region, and I get my medicine, well—I +guess it's up to me. Good-night, Murray. Thanks again. I'll be off +before you're around to-morrow morning. So long." +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish accompanied his visitor to the door. There was no more +to be said. His smile returned as he bade him farewell, and it +remained for a few moments as he stood till the night swallowed up the +departing figure. Then it died out suddenly, completely. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN WITH THE SCAR +</H3> + + +<P> +Two men moved about slowly, deliberately. They were examining, with +the closest scrutiny, every object that might afford a clue to the +devastation about them. A third figure, in the distance, was engaged +similarly. He was dressed in the buckskin so dear to the Indian heart. +The others were white men. +</P> + +<P> +The scene was complete in horror. It was the incinerated ruins of a +recently destroyed Indian encampment, set in the shadow of a belt of +pine woods which mounted the abrupt slopes of a great hill. The woods +on the hillside were burnt out. Where had stood a dense stretch of +primordial woodland, now only the skeleton arms of the pines reached up +towards the heavens as though appealing despairingly for the vengeance +due to them. +</P> + +<P> +The day was gray. The air was still, so still. It reeked with the +taint of burning. It reeked with something else. There were bodies, +in varying stages of decomposition, lying about, many of them burned, +many of them half eaten by the wild scavengers of the region. All were +mutilated in a dreadful manner. And they were mostly the bodies of +women and children. +</P> + +<P> +Not a teepee remained standing. The mud walls of one or two huts still +stood up. But all of them that were destructible had been devoured by +hungry flames. +</P> + +<P> +After half an hour's search the two white men came to the edge of the +burnt-out forest. They paused, and John Kars' eyes searched amongst +the charred poles. Presently he shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"No use going up this way. We can't learn more than we've read right +here. It's the work of the Bell River outfit, sure. That's if the +things we've heard are true." He turned to his companion. "Say, Bill, +it makes you wonder. What 'bug' is it sets folk yearning to get out +and kill, and burn, all the time? Think of it. Just think if you and +me started right in to holler, an' shoot, an' burn. What would you +say? We're crazy, sure. Yet these folk aren't crazy. They're just +the same as they were born, I guess. They weren't born crazy, any more +than we were. It gets me beat. Beat to death." +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell was overshadowed in stature by his friend. But his wit +was as keen. His mental faculties perhaps more mature. He might not +have been able to compete with John Kars in physical effort, but he +possessed a ripe philosophy, and a wonderful knowledge of human nature. +</P> + +<P> +"The craziest have motives," he said, with a whimsical smile in his +twinkling eyes. "I've often noticed that folk who act queer, and are +said to be crazy, and maybe get shut up in the foolish-house, generally +have an elegant reason of their own for acting the way they do. Maybe +other folks can't get it right. I once had to do with a case in which +a feller shot up his mother, and was made out 'bug,' and was put away. +It worried me some. Later I found his ma made his life miserable. He +lived in terror of her. She'd broken bottles over his head. She'd +soused him with boiling water. She'd raised the devil generally, +till—well, till he reached the limit. Then I found she acted that way +because her dandy boy was sparking around some tow-headed female, and +guessed he intended marrying her, and setting her to run the home his +mother had always run for him. There's some sort of reason to most +crazy acts. Guess we'll need to chase up the Bell River outfit if +we're looking for the reason to this craziness." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Bill turned away and picked up a stained and rusted hatchet of +obviously Indian make. He examined it closely. John Kars stared about +him with brooding eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think lies back of this?" he inquired presently. His +manner was abstracted, and his eyes were watching the movements of the +third figure in the distance. +</P> + +<P> +Bill glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. It was a swift, +speculating glance. Then he continued his examination of the hatchet, +while he talked. +</P> + +<P> +"Much of what lies back of most desperate acts," he said. "Guess the +Bell River folk have got something other folk need, and the other folk +know it. I allow the Bell River folk don't figger to hand over to +anybody. Maybe it's hunting grounds, maybe it's fishing. Can't say. +But you see this crowd are traveling Indians, or were," he added drily. +"We're within twenty miles of Bell River. If they were traveling, +which the remains of their teepees make them out to have been, then I +guess they weren't doing it for health. More than likely it was +robbery of some sort. Well, I guess they were up against a +proposition, and got it—plenty. It's going to snow. What are you +figgering?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars searched the gray skies. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll make Bell River." +</P> + +<P> +"I guessed you would. Maybe some folks would say it's you that's +crazy. Ask Peigan." +</P> + +<P> +Bill laughed. His clever face was always at its best when his +twinkling eyes, as it were, bubbled over. +</P> + +<P> +The men moved on towards their camp. +</P> + +<P> +The threat of the sky added to the gloomy nature of the crudely rugged +country. On every hand the hills rose mightily. Dark woodlands +crowded the lower slopes, but the sharply serrated crests, many of them +snow-clad, left a merciless impression upon the mind. The solitude of +it all, too, was overpowering. +</P> + +<P> +The long summer trail lay behind them, all its chances successfully +taken, all its many dangers surmounted. The threat of the sky was real +and they had no desire now to fall victims to a careless disregard of +ordinary climatic conditions. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' calculation had been carefully made. His plans were laid so that +they should reach the upper stream of the Snake River, where his river +depot had been established, and his canoes were awaiting them, with at +least three weeks to spare before the ice shut down all traffic. The +outfit would then have ample time in which to reach the shallows of +Peel River, whence the final stage of the journey to Leaping Horse +would be made overland on the early winter trail. +</P> + +<P> +Peigan Charley joined them at the camp. The man came up with that +curiously silent, almost furtive gait, which no prairie Indian, however +civilized, ever quite loses. It comes from long years of moccasin use, +and an habitual bent knee walk. Peigan Charley considered himself +unusually civilized. But it was for his native abilities that Kars +employed him. +</P> + +<P> +His broad, bronze face and dark eyes were quite without expression, for +all he had searched closely and probed deeply into the horrors of that +desperate camp. Perhaps he had no appreciation of horror. Perhaps he +saw nothing outrageous in the dreadful destruction. +</P> + +<P> +He was carrying a broken modern rifle in his hand, and with a word +promptly offered it to his chief. +</P> + +<P> +Kars took the weapon. He examined it closely while Bill looked on. +Then the white chief's eyes searched the Indian's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +The copper-hued expressionless features of the man underwent a change. +They became almost animated. But it was with a look of awe, or even +apprehension. +</P> + +<P> +"Him Bell River," he stated bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +John Kars had learned all he wanted from the scout. His own opinion +was corroborated. So he handed the useless weapon back and pointed at +it. +</P> + +<P> +"Allan Mowbray's outfit," he said. "Bell River neche steal 'em." +</P> + +<P> +The scout nodded. +</P> + +<P> +The smell of cooking pervaded the camp. For some moments no one spoke. +Bill was watching his friend, waiting for that decision which he knew +had long since been taken. The Indian was silent, as was his habit, +and Kars appeared to be considering deeply. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he looked up at the sky. +</P> + +<P> +"That snow will be—rain," he said. "Wind's got south. We'll make Big +Butte to-night. Bell River to-morrow. Noon." +</P> + +<P> +Bill was observing the Indian. Peigan Charley's bovine stare changed +swiftly as the white chief whom he regarded above all men gave his +decision. Its stolidity had given way to incredulity, and Bill found +in it a source of amusement. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Charley thrust up one hand. The long, tawny fingers were +parted, and he counted off each one. +</P> + +<P> +"One, two, tree, four," he enumerated, bending each finger in turn. +"Him all big fool pack neche. No good. Plenty 'fraid. Plenty eat. +Oh, yes, plenty eat. One, two." Again he told off his fingers. "Good +neche. Fight plenty. Oh, yes. Peigan Charley." He held up one +finger. "Heap good feller," he commented solemnly. "Big Chief, boss. +Big Chief, Bill. Two." Again the inevitable fingers. "Shoot plenty +much. No good. Five hundred Bell River devils. Mush gun. Shoot bad. +Big Chief boss all kill up. Boss go Bell River. Boss crazy—sure." +</P> + +<P> +Bill was thoroughly enjoying himself. Nor did Kars resent his smiles. +He, too, laughed in spite of the Indian's growing concern. +</P> + +<P> +"We make Bell River to-morrow," he said finally. "See the boys get +busy with food. We mush in half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian had made his protest. There was nothing further to add. So +he went off and the white man watched him go. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess there'll be something doing around the camp when he gets amongst +the boys," Kars observed. Then he added, after a smiling pause, "That +feller thinks me crazy. Guess Murray McTavish would think that way, +too. Maybe that's how you're thinking. Maybe you're all right, and +I'm all wrong. I can't say. And I can't worry it out. Y'see, Bill, +my instinct needs to serve me, like your argument serves you. Only you +can't argue with instinct. The logic of things don't come handy to me, +and Euclid's a sort of fool puzzle anyway to a feller raised chasing +gold. There's just about three things worrying the back of my head +now. They've been worrying it all summer, worse than the skitters. +Maybe Bell River can answer them all. I don't know. Why are these +Bell River neches always shooting up their neighbors, and any one else? +How comes it Allan Mowbray died worth half a million dollars on a fur +trade? What was he doing on Bell River when he got killed?" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was a wide flat stretch of grass, a miniature table-land, set high +up overlooking the broken territory of the Bell River forge. It was +bleak. A sharp breeze played across it with a chill bitterness which +suggested little enough mercy when winter reigned. It was an outlook +upon a world quite new to Bill. To John Kars the scene was by no means +familiar. +</P> + +<P> +These men gazed out with a profound interest not untouched by awe. +Their eyes sought in every direction, and no detail in the rugged +splendor was lost. For long minutes they stood silently reading the +pages of the new book opened to them. +</P> + +<P> +It was, in Kars' own words, a "fierce" country. It suggested something +like desperation in the Creator of it all. It seemed as though +imagination must have deserted Him, and He was left only with the +foundations, and the skeleton walls of a vast structure upon His hands. +</P> + +<P> +The horizon was approached by tier on tier of alternating glacier and +barren hill. What lay hidden in the hollows could only be conjectured. +In every direction, except the southeast, whence they had come, the +outlook was the same. Hills, and more hills. Glacial stretch, +followed by glacial stretch. Doubtless the hollows contained vast +primordial woods, and fiercely flooding mountain streams, scoring their +paths through wide stretches of miry tundra, quaking and treacherous. +</P> + +<P> +This was the distance, than which nothing could have been more +desolate. But the nearer view was their chief concern. +</P> + +<P> +The gorge yawned almost at their feet. It was tremendous, and its +vastness set the mind dizzy. Great circling patches of mist rose up +from below and added a sense of infinity to its depths. So wide. So +deep. The broad river in its bowels was reduced to something like a +trickling streamlet. The woodlands crowding the lower slopes, dim, +vague in the distance, became merely a deepening of the shadows below. +Forests of primordial immensity were lost in the overwhelming nature of +their setting. +</P> + +<P> +The air of sterility, in spite of the woodlands so far down below, in +spite of the attenuated grass on which they stood, inspired a profound +sense of repugnance. To the mind of Bill Brudenell, at least, it was a +land of hopelessness, a land of starvation and despair. +</P> + +<P> +He turned to his companion at last, and his voice rang with deep +feeling. +</P> + +<P> +"Fierce? Gee! There's not a word in the whole vocabulary of a white +man that gets nearer than ten miles of describing it," he exclaimed. +"And the neches, here, figger to scrap to hold it. Well, it certainly +needs attractions we can't locate from here." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I've felt all through," he said. "Now? Why, now I'm dead +sure. This is where they murdered Jessie's father. Well, even a +railroad corporation couldn't advertise it a pleasure resort. We'd +best get right on down to the camp. I reckon to locate those +attractions before we're through." +</P> + +<P> +Leaving the plateau they passed down the seemingly endless slope. Bill +cursed the foothold, and blasphemed generally. Kars remained silent. +He was absorbed with the task he had set himself in approaching this +murder-haunted gorge. +</P> + +<P> +The return to the camp occupied the best part of an hour, and the +latter part of the journey was made through a belt of pine wood, the +timber of which left the human figure something so infinitesimal that +its passage was incapable of disturbing the abiding silence. The +scrunch of the springy carpet of needles and pine cones under heavily +shod feet was completely lost. The profoundness of the gloom was +tremendous. +</P> + +<P> +The camp suggested secrecy. It lay in the bowels of a hollow. The +hollow was crowded with spruce, a low, sparse-growing scrub, and +mosquitoes. Its approach was a defile which suggested a rift in the +hills at the back. Its exit was of a similar nature, except that it +followed the rocky bed of a trickling mountain stream. A mile or so +further on this gave on to the more gracious banks of the Bell River to +the west of the gorge. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had taken up a position upon some rolled blankets. He was +smoking, and meditating over the remains of a small fire. Bill was +stretched full-length upon the ground. His philosophic temperament +seemed to render him impervious to the attacking hordes of mosquitoes. +Beyond the hum of the flying pestilence the place was soundless. +</P> + +<P> +Near by the Indians were slumbering restfully. It is the nature of the +laboring Indian to slumber at every opportunity—slumber or eat. +Peigan Charley was different from these others of his race. But the +scout had long been absent from the camp on work that only the keenest +of his kind could accomplish successfully. Indian spying upon Indian +is like hunting the black panther. The difficulty is to decide which +is the hunter. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was drowsily watching a cloud of mosquitoes set into undue +commotion by the smoke from his pipe. But for all that his thoughts +were busy. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess Charley isn't likely to take fool chances?" he suggested after a +while. +</P> + +<P> +Kars shook his head at the fire. His action possessed all the decision +of conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley's slim. He's a razor edge, I guess. He's got us all beaten +to death on his own play. He's got these murdering devils beaten +before they start." Then he turned, and a smile lit his steady eyes as +they encountered the regard of his friend. "It seems queer sending a +poor darn Indian to take a big chance while we sit around." +</P> + +<P> +Then he kicked the fire together as he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"But we're taking the real chance, I guess," he said, with a short +laugh. "If the Bell River outfit is all we reckon, then it's no sort +of gamble we made this camp without them getting wise." +</P> + +<P> +Bill sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we certainly are taking the big chance." +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. And I'll be all broken up if we don't hear from 'em," he said. +</P> + +<P> +He knocked out his pipe and refilled it. Once during the operation he +paused and listened. +</P> + +<P> +"Y'see," he went on, after a while, "we're white folks." +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I've always heard. So was—Allan Mowbray." +</P> + +<P> +Kars picked up a hot coal from the fire, rolled it in the palm of his +hand, and dropped it on the bowl of his pipe. Once the pipe was lit he +shook it off again. +</P> + +<P> +"Allan got around here—many times," he said reflectively. "He wasn't +murdered on his first visit—nor his second. Allan's case isn't ours. +Not if I figger right." +</P> + +<P> +"How d'you figger?" +</P> + +<P> +"They'll try and hustle us. If I figger right they don't want folk +around—any folk. I don't think that's why they murdered Allan. There +was more to that. Seems to me we'll get a visit from a bunch of 'em. +Maybe they'll get around with some of the rifles they stole from Allan. +They'll squat right here on their haunches and tell us the things they +fancy, and—— Hello!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars broke off, but made no movement. He did not even turn his head +from his contemplative regard of the white ashes of the fire. There +was a sound. The sound of some one approaching through the trees. It +was the sound of a shod footstep. It was not the tread of moccasins. +</P> + +<P> +Bill eased himself. In doing so his revolver holster was swung round +to a handy position. But Kars never stirred a muscle. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later he spoke in a tone keyed a shade lower. +</P> + +<P> +"A feller wearing boots. It's only one—I wonder." +</P> + +<P> +Bill had risen to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"My nerves aren't as steady as yours. I'm going to look," he announced. +</P> + +<P> +He moved off, and presently his voice came back to the man by the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, John! A visitor," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +The man at the fire replied cordially. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring him right along. Pleased to see him." +</P> + +<P> +But Kars had not moved from his seat. As he flung his reply back, he +glanced swiftly at the place where his own and Bill's rifles stood +leaning against the pale green foliage of a bush within reach of his +hand. Then, with elaborate nonchalance, he spread his hands out over +the smoldering ashes of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +A moment or two later he was gazing up smilingly into the face of a man +who was obviously a half-breed. +</P> + +<P> +The man was dressed in a beaded buckskin shirt under a pea-jacket of +doubtful age. It was worn and stained, as were the man's moleskin +trousers, which were tucked into long knee-boots which had once been +black. But the face held the white man's interest. It was of an olive +hue, and the eyes which looked out from beneath almost hairless brows +were coal black, and fierce, and narrow. A great scar split the skin +of his forehead almost completely across it. And beneath the +attenuated moustache another scar stretched from the corner of his +mouth half-way across his right cheek. Then, too, his Indian-like +black hair was unable to conceal the fact that half an ear was missing. +Nor did it take Kars a second to realize that the latter mutilation was +due to chewing by some adversary in a "rough and tumble" fight. +</P> + +<P> +The man's greeting came in the white man's tongue. Nor was it tinged +with the "pigeon" method of the Indian. It smacked of the gold city +which knows little enough of refinement amongst even its best classes. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you boys are takin' all kinds of chances," he said, in a voice +that had little pleasantness of intonation. "I had some scare when I +see you come over the hills ther'. The darn neches bin out the way you +come, burnin', an' massacrin'. How you missed 'em beats me to death. +But I guess you did miss 'em?" he added significantly. "And I'm glad." +</P> + +<P> +Kars was only concerned with the information of the Indians' movements. +</P> + +<P> +"They're out?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure they're out." The man laughed. "They're out most all the time. +Gee, it's livin' with a cyclone playin' around you on this +God-forgotten river. But, say, you boys need to beat it, an' beat it +quick, if you want to git out with your hair on. They're crazy for +guns an' things. If they git their noses on your trail they'll git you +sure as death." +</P> + +<P> +The warning received less attention than it seemed to demand. +</P> + +<P> +Kars looked the half-breed squarely in the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" he demanded. Abrupt as was the challenge the tone of it +had no roughness. +</P> + +<P> +"Louis Creal." +</P> + +<P> +"Belong here?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' steady eyes were compelling. +</P> + +<P> +A flush of anger surged in the half-breed's mutilated cheeks. His eyes +snapped viciously. +</P> + +<P> +"This ain't a catechism, is it?" he cried hotly. Then in a moment he +moderated his tone. "Fellers on the 'inside' don't figger to hand +around their pedigrees—usual. Howsum, I allow I come right along to +pass you a friendly warning, which kind o' makes it reasonable to tell +you the things folk don't usually inquire north of 'sixty.' Yep. I +live around this river, an' hand the neches a bum sort o' trade fer +their wares. Guess I scratch a livin', if you can call it that way, up +here. But it don't figger any. My ma come of this tribe. I guess my +paw belonged to yours." +</P> + +<P> +"Where d'you get your goods for trade?" +</P> + +<P> +The sparkle of hasty temper grew again in the black depths of the +half-breed's eyes. The man's retort came roughly enough now. +</P> + +<P> +"What in——!" he cried. Then again he checked his fiery impulse. +"Say, that ain't no darn bizness of any one but me. Get me? It's a +fool question anyway. Ther's a dozen posts I could haul from. My +bizness ain't your bizness. I stand pat fer why I traipsed nigh two +miles to reach your darn fool camp. I handed you the trouble waitin' +around if you ain't wise. I guess you're wise now, an' if you don't +act quick it's up to you. If you've the savvee of a buck louse you'll +beat it good an' quick. You'll beat it as if the devil was chasin' you +plenty." +</P> + +<P> +Then it seemed as if urgency overcame his resentment, for he went on +with a sort of desperate eagerness. "Say, I ain't got your names, I +don't know a thing. I ain't no interest if you're alive, or hacked to +small chunks. But if you got any value fer your lives, if you've got +folks to worry fer you, why, git right out o' this just as fast as the +devil'll let you. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks—we will." Kars had suddenly abandoned all his previous +assurance of manner. He seemed to be laboring under the influence of +the warning. "Guess we're kind of obliged to you. More than I can +say. Maybe you won't take amiss the things I asked. You see, finding +a white man in this region seemed sort of queer since they murdered +Allan Mowbray. I just had to ask." He turned to Bill, who was +watching him curiously. "We'll strike camp right away. Guess we best +get out west if the neches are southeast. Seems to me we're in a bad +fix anyway." Then he turned again to the half-breed. "Maybe you'll +stop around and take food? We'll eat before we strike." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' changed attitude seemed to please the half-breed. But he shook +his head with a smile that only rendered his expression the more crafty. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' doin' that way," he said decidedly. "Gee, no!" Then he added +confidentially: "I come two miles to give you warnin'. That's straight +across as the birds fly. I made nearer five gettin' here. Maybe +you'll get that when I tell you these devils have eyes everywhere. +Since they shot up Allan Mowbray I'm scared. Scared to death. I've +taken a big chance coming around. I ain't makin' it bigger stoppin' to +feed. An' if you'll take white advice you won't neither. Jest get to +it an' set all the darnation territory you ken find between you an' +Bell River before to-morrow. I quit. So long. I've handed you +warning. It's right up to you." +</P> + +<P> +He turned abruptly away and moved off. To the dullest it was obvious +he was anxious to escape further interrogation. And these men were not +dull. +</P> + +<P> +Bill followed him a few steps and stood watching his slim, lithe figure +vanish amongst the close-growing spruce. Kars, too, watched him go. +But he had not stirred out of his seat. They waited until the sound of +his footsteps had died out. Then Kars bestirred himself. He passed +from the camp to where his Indians were sleeping. When he returned +Bill was standing over the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"I've set a boy to trail him to the edge of the woods," he said. Then +he returned to his seat. +</P> + +<P> +Bill nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"An elegant outfit," he said with appreciation. "I guess he's more +scared of us than the Bell River devils. We're not to get the bunch of +neches I guessed." +</P> + +<P> +"No. He's a crook and—a bad one. When do we pull out?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars looked up. His eyes were steady and keen. His jaws were set +aggressively. +</P> + +<P> +"When I've nosed out the secret of this darned layout." +</P> + +<P> +"But——" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Bill," Kars' manner became suddenly alive with enthusiasm, "we've +chased a thousand miles and more this summer, nosing, and scratching, +and worrying to find some of the secrets of this mighty big land. +We've sweated and cussed till even the flies and skitters must have +been ashamed. I figger we've lit right on top of a big secret here, +and—well, I don't fancy being bluffed out of it by any low-down bum of +a half-breed. That feller wants to be quit of us. He's bluffing. +We've hit the camp with the neches <I>out</I>. Do you get that? If they'd +bin around we wouldn't have seen any Louis Creal. We'd have had all +the lead poisoning the neches could have handed us. Wait till Charley +gets back." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Peigan Charley was squatting on his haunches holding out the palms of +his lean hands to the warming blaze of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness had shut down upon the gloomy world about them. The air was +chill. The fire was more than welcome. Kars was sitting adjacent to +his faithful servant, and Bill was on the other side of him. The +Indian was talking in a low voice, and in a deliberate fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"I mak him," he said, in his quaint, broken way. "Neche all out. Only +squaws, an' pappoose by the camp. Old men—yes. Him all by river. +Much squaws by river. Charley not come by river. No good. Charley +him look by camp. Him see much teepee, much shack. Oh, yes, plenty. +One big—plenty big—shack. Squaws mak go by shack. Him store. +Charley know. Yes, Breed man run him store. Charley, him see Breed +woman, too. All much plenty busy. So. Charley him come. Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars smoked on for some silent moments. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't risk the river?" he inquired presently. "Just where were +they working?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Charley him all get kill up dead by river. No bush. No +nothing." He made a gesture that was unmistakable. Then he went on. +"Charley, him go up dis way." He pointed at the hill directly behind +him. "Him go up—up. Much walk, oh, yes. Then Charley, him go down. +Plenty big piece. Heap down. So. Come by river. Much bush. +Charley, him go on. Quiet. Oh, yes. Quiet—much quiet. Then no bush +any more. Big rock. High. Much high. Wide. Dis way." He spread +his arms out to their full extent, indicating the gorge. "Water so." +He narrowed his hands together. "Squaws, him plenty much work by +water. So." +</P> + +<P> +Again the men smoked on in silence. Bill made no comment at all. He +was looking to Kars. This was entirely Kars' affair. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Kars looked round. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley made good—very good," he said. "Charley good man." +</P> + +<P> +Then he looked across at Bill. He was smiling, and the light of the +fire made his smile queerly grim. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all I need, Bill," he said. "The rest I'll do myself. I'm +going to quit you for the time. Maybe I won't join you till nearly +morning. I can't say. I want you to strike camp right away. Get on +the move down to the river bank—above the gorge. Then follow it along +for a few miles. Maybe ten. Then wait around, and keep an eye wide. +Then send Charley back to wait for me on the river bank—just above the +gorge. Get that, Charley?" He turned to the Indian. "I need you to +know just where Boss Bill is waiting, so you can guide me." +</P> + +<P> +"Charley git him plenty. Charley him wait." +</P> + +<P> +"Good. You get it, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Right. Then I'll be moving." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SECRET OF THE GORGE +</H3> + + +<P> +Peigan Charley's belief in his white boss's lack of sanity was +characteristic of Indian regard for the reckless. The reason, the +driving power of his chief's character was lost to his primitive mind. +The act was all he had power to judge by, and the act of voluntarily +visiting the headquarters of the Bell River Indians said he was "crazy." +</P> + +<P> +But Kars was by no means "crazy," nor anything like it. He had a +definite purpose to fulfil, and, in consequence, all hazard was +ignored. The man's simple hardihood was the whole of him. He had been +bred in the rough lap of the four winds at his father's side. He would +have smothered under the breath of caution. +</P> + +<P> +He set out from the camp at the moment he had carefully selected. He +set out alone, without a thought for the chances of disaster which the +night might have for him. His eyes were alight with satisfaction, with +anticipation. Invincible determination inspired him as he faced the +hill which had served the Indian earlier in the day. He moved off with +a swing to his great body which said all that his lips had left +unspoken of the confidence which at all times supported him in the +battle with elemental forces. +</P> + +<P> +When he left the camp the blackness of the night had given way to the +jewel-studded velvet of a clearing sky. The spectre lights of the +north were already dancing their sombre measure. There was no moon. +These things all possessed their significance for him. +</P> + +<P> +The shadowy night light, however, only served him in the open, in the +breaks in the deep woodlands he must thread. For the rest his +woodcraft, even his instinct, must serve him. A general line of +direction was in his mind. On that alone he must seriously depend. +His difficulties were tremendous. They must have been insurmountable +for a man of lesser capacity. But the realization of difficulty was a +sense he seemed to lack. It was sufficient that a task lay before him +for the automatic effort to be forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +He climbed the hill through endless aisles of straight-limbed timber. +His gait was rapid. His deep, regular breathing spoke of an effort +which cost him little. His muscles were as hard as the tree-trunks +with which he frequently collided. And so he came to the barren crest +where the fierce night wind bit deeply into the warm flesh. +</P> + +<P> +He only paused for his bearings. The stars and the dancing lights +yielded him the guidance he needed. He read these signs with the ease +of an experienced mariner. Then, crushing his soft beaver cap low down +over his ears, and buttoning his pea-jacket about his neck, he left the +bitter, wind-swept hilltop and plunged down the terrific slope, at the +far-off bottom of which lay the river, whose very name had cast a spell +of terror over the hearts of the people of the northland. +</P> + +<P> +Again he was swallowed up by the dark bowels of the woods, whose origin +went back to the days before man trod the earth. And curiously enough +a sensation of committing an intrusion stirred as the silence closed +down about him. A dark wall always seemed to confront him, a wall upon +which he was being precipitated. +</P> + +<P> +The steep of the decline was at times terrific. There were moments of +impact with trees which left him bruised and beaten. There were +moments when projecting roots threatened to hurl him headlong to +invisible depths. Each buffet, each stumble, however, only hardened +his resolve. These things were powerless to deter him. +</P> + +<P> +His descent of the approach to the gorge was a serious test. He felt +thankful at least that his plans called for no reascent of the hill +later. Twice he was precipitated into the bed of a spring "washout," +and, sore and angry, he was forced to a blind scramble from the moist, +soft bed. +</P> + +<P> +Once he only escaped with his life by a margin the breadth of a hair. +On this occasion he recovered himself with a laugh of something like +real amusement. But death had clutched at him with fierce intent. He +had plunged headlong over the edge of a chasm, hewn in the hillside by +a subsidence of the foundations some hundreds of feet below. Six feet +from the brink his great body had been caught in the arms of a bushy +tangle, which bent and crushed under his great weight in a perilous, +almost hopeless fashion. But he clung to the attenuated branches that +supported him and waited desperately for the further plunge below, +which the yielding roots seemed to make inevitable. +</P> + +<P> +But the waiting saved him. Had he struggled while the bush labored +under the shock, maybe his anticipations would have been fulfilled. As +it was the roots definitely held, and, cautiously, he was able to haul +himself up against the weed-grown wall of the precipice, and finally +obtain a foot and hand hold in its soil. The rest was a matter of +effort and nerve, and at last he clambered back to comparative safety. +</P> + +<P> +So the journey went on with varying fortune, his blind groping and +stumblings alternating with the starlit patches where the woods broke. +But it went on deliberately to the end with an inevitability which +revealed the man. +</P> + +<P> +At last he stood in the open with the frowning walls of the great gorge +far above him, like a giant mouth agape in a desperate yawn. At his +feet lay the river, flowing swiftly on to join the great Mackenzie in +its northward rush to swell the field of polar ice. +</P> + +<P> +Here, in the bowels of the great pit, he was no longer blinded by the +darkness, for, in the three hours of infinite effort he had expended, +the moon had risen, and its radiance shone down the length of the gorge +like some dull yellow search-light. The wood-lined walls were lit till +their conformation was vaguely discernible. The swift stream reflected +the yellow rays on the crests of its surging ripples. Then, far in, +beyond the mouth of the canyon, the long low foreshore stood out almost +plainly to his searching eyes. +</P> + +<P> +His task was only at its beginning. He waited just sufficiently long +to deliberate his next move. Then he set off, heading for the heart of +the gorge itself. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was a scene of deep interest for eyes backed by understanding. +</P> + +<P> +A figure moved slowly about, searching here, probing there. It was a +figure suggesting secret investigation without a sign of real secrecy +in its movements. +</P> + +<P> +The foreshore of the river was wide, far wider than could have been +believed from the heights above. It sloped gradually to the water's +edge, and the soil was loose, gravelly, with a consistency that was +significant to the trained mind. But its greater interest lay in the +signs of intense labor that stood out on every hand. Operations, +crudely scientific, had been carried out to an extent that was almost +staggering. Here, in the heart of a low class Indian territory was the +touch of the white man. It was more than a touch. It was the impress +of his whole hand. +</P> + +<P> +The foreshore was honeycombed with shallow pits, shored, and timbered +with rough hewn timber. Against the mouth of each pit, and there were +dozens of them, a great pile of soil stood up like a giant beehive, +Some of these were in the process of formation. Some were completed, +and looked to have stood thus for many months. Some were in the +process of being demolished, and iron-wheeled trolleys on timbered +pathways stood about them, with the tools of the laborers remaining +just where they had been flung down when the day's work was finished. +</P> + +<P> +Each pit, each "dump" was narrowly scrutinized by the silent figure as +it moved from point to point. Even the examination extended to touch. +Again and again the soil was handled in an effort to test its quality. +</P> + +<P> +But the search extended beyond the "dumps" and pits. It revealed a +cutting hewn out of the great wall of the gorge. It was hewn at a +point well above the highest water level of the spring freshets. And +it was approached by a well timbered roadway of split green logs. +</P> + +<P> +The figure moved over to this, and, as it left the beehive "dumps," a +second figure replaced it. But whereas the first made no secret of its +movements, the second displayed all the furtive movements of the hunter. +</P> + +<P> +The cutting further revealed the guidance of the master mind. It was +occupied by a mountainous dump of the accumulated "dirt" from the +foreshore. It was built up, up, by a system of log pathways, till a +rough estimate suggested the accumulation of thousands upon thousands +of tons. +</P> + +<P> +What was the purpose of this storage? +</P> + +<P> +The question was answered by a glance in a fresh direction. Adjoining +the cutting stood an iron winch. It was a man-power winch, but it +worked an elevated cable trolley communicating with a trestle work +fifty yards away. +</P> + +<P> +Moving swiftly on towards the trestle work the man searched its length. +He peered up, far up the great hillside in the uncertain moonlight, +seeking the limits of its trailing outline in that direction. But its +ascent was gradual. It took the hill diagonally, and quickly lost +itself round a bend in the narrow roadway which had been hewn out of +the primordial forest. +</P> + +<P> +The end of this work in the other direction was far down on the +foreshore, stopping short of the water's edge by, perhaps, fifty yards. +It terminated at what was obviously a great mound of "tailings." +</P> + +<P> +The man moved down to this spot. As he paused by the mound, and gazed +up, the trestle work stood above him more than twice his own height. +Furthermore, here the skeleton work gave place to built-out platforms, +the purpose of which was obvious. A moment later his powerful hands +were gripping the massive stanchions, and he was clambering up to the +platforms. +</P> + +<P> +It was a simple enough task for a man of activity, and he swarmed up +with the rapidity of some great cat. He stood on the topmost platform, +and his gaze ran down the length of the structure. +</P> + +<P> +"A sluice-box and—conduit," he muttered. Then in a tone of deep +appreciation: "Gee, and it's fixed—good!" +</P> + +<P> +He bent down over the sluice-box, and groped with his hands over the +bottom of it. There was a trickle of water flowing gently in its +depths. He searched with his fingers along the riffles. And that +which he found there he carefully and laboriously collected, and drew +up out of the water. He placed the collected deposit in a colored +handkerchief, and again searched the riffles. He repeated the +operation again and again. Then, with great care he twisted up the +handkerchief and bestowed it in an inner pocket of his pea-jacket. +</P> + +<P> +After that he sat himself upon the edge of the sluice-box for some +thoughtful minutes, and his mind traveled back over many scenes and +incidents. But it dwelt chiefly upon Jessie Mowbray and her dead +father. And it struggled in a great effort to solve the riddle of the +man's death. +</P> + +<P> +But, in view of his discoveries, just now it was a riddle that +suggested far too many answers. Furthermore, to his mind, none of them +quite seemed to fit. There were two facts that stood out plainly in +his mind. Here, here was the source of Allan's wealth, and this was +the enterprise which in some way had contrived to leave Jessie Mowbray +fatherless. +</P> + +<P> +He sighed. A wave of intense pity swept over him. Nor was his pity +for the man who had kept his secret so profoundly all these years. It +was for the child, and the widow he had left behind. But more than all +it was for the child. +</P> + +<P> +It was with something like reluctance that he tore himself away from +the magic of the sluice-box. Once on the solid ground, however, he +again turned his eyes to gaze up at the structure. Then he laughed. +It was an audible expression of the joy of discovery. +</P> + +<P> +"What a 'strike'!" he said aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"An' one you ain't gettin' away with!" +</P> + +<P> +John Kars started. He half turned at the sound of the familiar voice. +But his intention remained incompleted. It may have been instinct. It +may have been that out of the corner of his eye he saw the white ring +of the muzzle of a revolver shining in the moonlight close against his +head. +</P> + +<P> +On the instant of the last sound of the man's voice he dropped. He +dropped like a stone. His movement came only the barest fraction of a +second before the crack of the revolver prefixed the whistle of the +bullet which spat itself deeply into the woodwork of the trestle. +</P> + +<P> +Thought and action ran a neck and neck race in Kars at all times. Now +it was never better exampled. His arms flung out as he dropped. And, +before a second pressure of the trigger could be accomplished, the man +behind the gun was caught, and thrown, and sprawled on the ground with +his intended victim uppermost. +</P> + +<P> +For Kars it was chiefly a struggle for possession of the gun. On his +assailant's part it was for the use of it upon his intended victim. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had felled the man by the weight and suddenness of his attack. He +had him by the body, and his own great bulk lay atop of him. But the +man's arms were free. There was a moment's desperate pause as they +fell, and it was that pause which robbed the gunman of his chance of +accomplishing the murder he had designed. Kars knew his man on the +instant. The voice was the voice of Louis Creal, the half-breed who +had warned him of the danger of Bell River. He could have laughed had +not the moment been too desperate. +</P> + +<P> +On the instant of impact with the ground Kars released his hold of the +man's body, and with catlike agility hurled himself at the man's +throat. With the threat of the revolver over him there remained only +one means of defence. He must paralyze all action even if he killed +the man under his hands. Physically his assailant was no match for +him, but the gun leveled things up. +</P> + +<P> +His great hands closed on the man's throat like a vice. It was a +strangle hold that knew no mercy. He reared his body up and his grip +tightened. The Breed struggled fiercely. He flung up his gun arm and +fired recklessly. The first shot flew high into the air but the scorch +of the fire stung the face of the man over him. A second shot came. +It cut its way through the thick muscles of Kars' neck. He winced +under its hot slither, but his grip only further tightened on the man's +throat. +</P> + +<P> +Then came collapse with hideous suddenness. With a choking gurgle the +Breed's arms dropped nervelessly to the ground and the revolver fell +from his relaxed grip. On the instant the white man released his hold. +He caught up the gun and flung it wide. +</P> + +<P> +He had won out. The cost to him did not matter. He stood up and gazed +down at the man on the ground. He was still—quite still. Then he +searched his own pockets for a handkerchief. The only one he possessed +had been set to precious use. He rejected it. So he bent over the +prostrate Breed and unfastened the colored handkerchief about his neck. +This he proceeded to fasten about the flesh wound in his own neck, for +the blood flowing from it was saturating his clothes. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later the half-breed stirred. It was what the white man had +awaited. The sight of the movement brought a sigh of relief. He was +glad he had not been forced to become the slayer of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later the dazed half-breed seemed to awaken to realities. +He propped himself on his elbow, and, with his other hand, felt about +his throat, whilst his dark, evil face and beady eyes stared +malevolently up in the moonlight at the man standing over him. +</P> + +<P> +"Feeling better?" the white, man demanded coldly. +</P> + +<P> +As he received no answer he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess you acted foolish trailing up so close on me. Maybe you were +scared you'd miss me in the dark? Anyway, you gave me a chance no real +gunman would have given. Guess you weren't more than a rabbit in my +hands. Say, can you swim? Ah, don't feel like talking," he added, as +the man still kept to his angry silence. "Anyway you'll need to. +You've got off mighty light. Maybe a bath won't come amiss." +</P> + +<P> +He bent down and before the Breed was aware of his intention he seized +him in his arms and picked him up much as he might have picked up some +small child. +</P> + +<P> +Then the struggle began afresh. But it was hopeless from the outset. +Louis Creal, unarmed, was powerless in the bear-like embrace of John +Kars. Struggling and cursing, the half-breed was borne to the water's +edge, held poised for a few seconds, then flung with all the strength +of the white man into the rapid waters of the Bell River. +</P> + +<P> +Kars only waited to see him rise to the surface. Then, as the man was +carried down on the swift tide, swimming strongly, he turned away with +a laugh and hurried from the scene. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +John Kars halted abruptly in response to a whistle. The sound came +from the thick scrub with which the low bank of the river beyond the +gorge was deeply overgrown. It was a whistle he knew. It came low and +rose to a piercing crescendo. Then it died away to its original note. +His answer was verbal. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Charley?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +His demand was answered by the abrupt appearance of the figure of his +faithful scout from within the bush. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Boss. Charley him wait. Charley him hear much shoot. Boss +kill 'em plenty good?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Not kill 'em," he said. "Half-breed wash 'em in river." +</P> + +<P> +"Boss no kill 'em?" The Indian's disappointment was pathetic. +</P> + +<P> +"No-o." +</P> + +<P> +Kars passed a hand wearily across his eyes. There was a drag, too, in +his negative. It was almost indifferent. +</P> + +<P> +But the display of weakness was instantly swept aside by an energy +which cost him more than he knew. +</P> + +<P> +"It don't matter anyway," he cried. "We need to make camp—we must +make it quick." +</P> + +<P> +There was irritation in his manner, as well as energy. But then his +neglected wound was causing him infinite pain, and the loss of blood +aggravated it by a feeling of utter weariness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT +</H3> + + +<P> +The fire spluttered just beyond the door of the tent. Its cheerful +light supported the efforts of the kerosene lamp within. Peigan +Charley squatted over its friendly warmth, his lean hands outheld to +its flickering blaze in truly Indian fashion. His position had been +taken up with a view to observing his wounded chief, whose condition +concerned him more than anything else in the world, except it was, +perhaps, his delight in driving the men of his own color under him, and +his absolute contempt for his own race. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars was lying on his blankets, yielding to the skilful attention +of Dr. Bill. His final journey from the gorge to the camp, ten miles +distant, had been perhaps the greatest effort of the night. But with +Charley's help, with the dogged resolve of a spirit that did not +understand defeat, it had been finally achieved. +</P> + +<P> +His wound was by no means serious. He knew that. Charley believed, in +his simple mind, that his boss was practically a dead man. Hence his +watchful regard now. Kars' trouble was little more than loss of blood, +and though his tremendous physique had helped him, his weakness during +the last two miles of the journey had demanded all his resources to +overcome. +</P> + +<P> +The dressing was complete. The last stitches had been put in the +bandages about the wound. Bill closed his instrument case, and +returned the bottles of antiseptic drugs to the miniature chest he +carried. He sat down on the blankets which were spread out for his own +use, and smiled genially down at his patient. +</P> + +<P> +"That's that," he said cheerfully. "But it was a lucky get out for +you, John. Say, a shade to the left, and that Breed would have handed +you a jugular in two parts. Just take it easy. You'll travel +to-morrow, after a night's sleep. Guess you'll be all whole against we +make Fort Mowbray. You best talk now, an' get rid of it all. Maybe +you'll sleep a deal easier after." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' regard of his friend said far more than his simple words. But +then the friendship between these two was of a quality which required +little enough of verbal expression. It was the friendship of two men +who have shared infinite perils together, of two men whose lives are +bound up in loyalty to each other. +</P> + +<P> +For some moments the wounded man made no response to the invitation. A +pleasant lassitude was at work upon him. It seemed a pity to disturb +it by the effort of talk. But it was necessary to talk, and he knew +that this was so. There were thoughts and questions in his mind that +must have the well-balanced consideration of his friend's calm mind. +</P> + +<P> +At last he broke the silence with an expletive which expressed +something of the enthusiasm he really felt. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee, what a strike!" he said, in a voice much weaker than his usual +tone. Then he added as an afterthought, "The gorge is chock full of +color. Just git a holt on that handkerchief in my pea-jacket and open +it. Say, handle it easy." +</P> + +<P> +He watched the other search the pockets of the coat lying at the foot +of his blankets. A great light shone in his gray eyes as Bill produced +the handkerchief and began to unfold it. Then, with a raging +impatience, he waited while the deposit he had collected from the +riffles of the sluice-box was examined under the lamplight. +</P> + +<P> +At last Bill raised his eyes, and Kars read there all he wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +"It's mostly color. There's biggish stuff amongst it." +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I figgered." Kars' tone was full of contentment. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill carefully refolded the handkerchief, and laid it beside his +medicine chest. +</P> + +<P> +Kars emitted a sound like a chuckle, +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it was a bully play," he said. Then, after a moment: "Listen, +I'll tell it from the start." +</P> + +<P> +Kars talked, with occasional pauses, for nearly half an hour. He +detailed the events of the night in the barest outline, and only dealt +closely with the fact of the gold workings. These he explained with +the technicalities necessary between experts. He dwelt upon his +estimate of the quality of the auriferous deposits as he had been able +to make it in the darkness, and from his sense of touch. The final +story of his encounter with Louis Creal only seemed to afford him +amusement in the telling. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Bill," he added, "that feller must have been sick to death. +I mean finding himself with just the squaws and the fossils left around +when we come along. His play was clear as daylight. He tried to scare +us like a brace of rabbits to be quit of us. It was our bull-headed +luck to hit the place right when we did. I mean finding the neches out +on a trail of murder instead of lying around their teepees." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But we're going to get them on our trail anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure we are—when he's rounded 'em up." +</P> + +<P> +Bill produced his timepiece and studied it reflectively. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an hour past midnight," he said. "We'll need to be on the move +with daylight. We best hand them all the mileage we can make. We've +got to act bright." +</P> + +<P> +He sat lost in thought for some minutes, his watch still held in the +palm of his hand. He was thinking of the immediate rather than of the +significance of his friend's discovery. His cheerful face was grave. +He was calculating chances with all the care of a clear-thinking, +experienced brain. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars was thinking too. But the direction which absorbed him was +quite different. He was regarding his discovery in connection with +Fort Mowbray. +</P> + +<P> +At last he stirred restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't get it right!" he exclaimed. "I just can't." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill's plans were complete. For a day or so he knew that his would be +the responsibility. Kars would have to take things easy. +</P> + +<P> +"What can't you get right?" he added. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, the whole darn play of it. That strike has been worked years, +I'd say. We've trailed this country with eyes and ears mighty wide. +Guess we haven't run into a thing about Bell River but what's darn +unpleasant. Years that's been waiting. Shrieking for us to get around +and help ourselves. Gee, I want to kick something." +</P> + +<P> +Bill regarded his friend with serious eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You're going to butt in? You're going to play a hand in that—game?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes widened in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Then he added, "So are you." He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +Bill shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Not willingly—me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill stretched himself out on his blankets. He was fully dressed. He +intended to pass the night that way. He clasped his hands behind his +neck, and his gaze was on the firelight beyond the door. +</P> + +<P> +"First, because it's taking a useless chance. You don't need it," he +said deliberately. "Second, because that was Allan Mowbray's strike. +It was his big secret that he'd worked most of his days for, and, in +the end, gave his life for. If we butt in there'll come a rush, and +you'll rob a widow and a young girl who've never done you injury. It +don't sound to me your way." +</P> + +<P> +"You think Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie know of it?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill glanced round quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Mowbray—sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah—not Jessie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't say. Maybe not. More than likely—not." +</P> + +<P> +"Alec?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill shook his head decidedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that boy." +</P> + +<P> +"Murray McTavish?" +</P> + +<P> +"He knows." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"He knew when he was lying to me he didn't understand Allan visiting +Bell River," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes had become coldly contemplative. And in the brief silence +that followed, for all his intimate understanding of his friend, Bill +Brudenell was unable even to guess at the thoughts passing behind the +icy reserve which seemed to have settled upon him. +</P> + +<P> +But his questions found an answer much sooner than he expected. The +silence was broken by a short, hard laugh of something like +self-contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"You an' me, Bill. We're going up there with an outfit that knows all +about scrapping, and something about gold. We're going up there, and +d'you know why? Oh, not to rob a widow and orphan." He laughed again +in the same fashion. "Not a soul's got to know, or be wise to our +play," he went on. "The strike they've worked won't be touched by us. +We'll make our own. But for once gold isn't all we need. There's +something else. I tell you I can't rest till we find it. There's a +gal, Bill, on the Snake River, with eyes made to smile most all the +time. They did—till Allan Mowbray got done up. Well, I got a notion +they'll smile again some day, but it won't be till I've located just +how her father came by his end, after years of working with the Bell +River neches. I want to see those eyes smile, Bill. I want to see 'em +smile bad. Maybe you think me some fool man. I allow I'm wiser than +you guess. Maybe, even, I'm wiser than you, who've never yearned to +see a gal's eyes smiling into yours in all your forty-three years. +That's why we're going to butt in on that strike, and you're coming +right along with me if I have to yank you there by your mighty badly +fledged scalp." +</P> + +<P> +Bill had turned over on his side. His shrewd eyes were smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds like fever," he said, in his pleasant way. "I'll need to take +the patient's temperature. Say, John, you won't have to haul on my +scalp for any play like that. I'm in it—right up to my neck. That +I've lived to see the day John Kars talks of marrying makes me feel +I've not lived——" +</P> + +<P> +"He's not talking of marriage," came the swift retort with flushed +cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"No. But he's thinking it. Which, in a man like John Kars, comes +pretty near meaning the same thing. Did you ask her, boy?" +</P> + +<P> +Just for a moment resentment lit the other's eyes. It was on his +tongue to make a sharp retort. But, under the deep, new emotion +stirring him, an emotion that made him rather crave for a sympathy +which, in all his strong life, he had never felt the necessity before, +the desire melted away. In place of it he yielded to a rush of +enthusiasm which surprised himself almost as much as it did his old +friend. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Bill." He laughed. "I—hadn't the nerve to. I don't know as +I'll ever have the nerve to. But I want that little gal bad. I want +her so bad I feel I could get right out an' trail around these +darnation hills, an' skitter holes, hollering 'help' like some mangy +coyote chasing up her young. Oh, I'm going to ask her. I'll have to +ask her, if I have to get you to hand me the dope to fix my nerve +right. And, say, if she hands me the G. B. for that bladder of +taller-fat, Murray, why I'll just pack my traps, and hit the trail for +Bell River, and I'll sit around and kill off every darned neche so she +can keep right on handing herself all the gold she needs till she's +sitting atop of a mountain of it, which is just about where I'd like to +set her with these two dirty hands." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes smiled as he held out his hands. But he went on at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you've got it all. And I guess we'll let it go at that. You and +me, we're going to set right out on this new play. There isn't going +to be a word handed to a soul at the Fort, or anywhere else. Not a +word. There's things behind Allan Mowbray's death we don't know. But +that dirty half-breed knows 'em, if we don't. And the gold on the +river has a big stake in the game. That being so, the folk Allan left +behind him are to be robbed. Follow it? It kind of seems to me the +folk at the Fort are helpless. But—but we aren't. So it's up to me, +seeing how I feel about that little gal." +</P> + +<P> +Kars had propped himself up under the effect of his rising excitement. +Now, as he finished speaking, he dropped back on his blankets with some +display of weariness. +</P> + +<P> +Bill's eyes were watching him closely. He was wondering how much of +this he would have heard had Kars been his usual, robust self. He did +not think he would have heard so much. +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his blankets. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all in, boy, on this enterprise," he said, in his amiable way. +"Meanwhile I'm dousing this light. You'll sleep then." +</P> + +<P> +He blew out the lamp before the other could protest. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll just get a peek at the boys on watch. I need to fix things with +Charley for the start up to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +He passed out of the tent crawling on his hands and knees. Nor did he +return till he felt sure that his patient was well asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Even then he did not seek his own blankets. For a moment he studied +his friend's breathing with all his professional skill alert. Then, +once more, he withdrew, and took his place at the camp-fire beside +Peigan Charley. +</P> + +<P> +The first sign of dawn saw the camp astir. Kars was accommodated with +one of the Alaskan ponies under pressure from Bill, as the doctor. The +whole outfit was on the move before daylight had matured. Neither the +scout, nor the two white men were deceived. Each knew that they were +not likely to make the headwaters of Snake River without molestation. +</P> + +<P> +How right they were was abundantly proved on the afternoon of the +second day. +</P> + +<P> +They were passing through a wide defile, with the hills on either side +of them rising to several hundreds of feet of dense forest. It was a +shorter route towards their objective, but more dangerous by reason of +the wide stretching tundra it was necessary to skirt. +</P> + +<P> +Half-way through this defile came the first sign. It came with the +distant crack of a rifle. Then the whistle of a speeding bullet, and +the final "spat" of it as it embedded itself in an adjacent tree-trunk. +Everybody understood. But it took Peigan Charley to sum up the +situation, and the feeling of, at least, the leaders of the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +"Fool neche!" he exclaimed, with a world of contemptuous regard flung +in the direction whence came the sound. "Shoot lak devil. Much shoot. +Plenty. Oh, yes." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FALL TRADE +</H3> + + +<P> +The fall trade of the post was in full swing, and gave to the river, +and the approaches of the Fort, an air of activity such as it usually +lacked. Murray McTavish seemed to blossom under the pressure of the +work entailed. His good humor became intensified, and his smile +radiated upon the world about him. These times were the opportunity he +found for the display of his abounding energies. They were healthy +times, healthy for mind and body. To watch his activities was to +marvel that he still retained the grossness of figure he so deplored. +</P> + +<P> +A number of canoes were moored at the Mission landing. Others were +secured at piles driven into the banks of the river. These were the +boats of the Indians and half-breeds who came to trade their summer +harvest at the old post. A few days later and these same craft would +be speeding in the direction of distant homes, under the swift strokes +of the paddle, bearing a modicum of winter stores as a result of their +owner's traffic. +</P> + +<P> +And what a mixed trade it was. Furs. Rough dried pelts, ranging from +bear to fox, from seal to Alaskan sable. Furs of thirty or forty +descriptions, each with its definite market value, poured into the +Fort. The lucky pelt hunters were the men who brought black-fox, and +Alaskan sable, or a few odd seals from the uncontrolled hunting grounds +within the Arctic circle. These men departed with amply laden canoes, +with, amongst their more precious trophies, inferior modern rifles and +ammunition. +</P> + +<P> +But these voyageurs did not make up the full tally of the fall trade +which gave Murray so much joy. There were the men of the long trail. +The long, land trail. Men who came with their whole outfit of +belongings, women and children as well. They packed on foot, and on +ponies, and in weird vehicles of primitive manufacture, accompanied by +the dogs which would be needed for haulage should the winter snows +overtake them before they completed their return journey. +</P> + +<P> +These were of the lesser class trade. It was rare enough to obtain a +parcel of the more valuable pelts from these folk. But they not +infrequently brought small parcels of gold dust, which experience had +taught them the curious mind of the white man set such store by. +</P> + +<P> +Gold came in shyly, however, in the general trade. Indian methods were +far too primitive in procuring it. Besides which, for all the value of +it, traders in these remotenesses were apt to discourage its pursuit. +It was difficult to understand the psychology of the trader on the +subject. But no doubt he was largely influenced by the fear of a white +invasion of his territory, should the news of the gold trade leak out. +Maybe he argued that the stability of his legitimate trade was +preferable to the risks of competition which an influx of white folk +would bring. Anyway, open trade of this nature was certainly +comparatively discouraged. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray was not alone in the work of the fall trade. Ailsa Mowbray +supported him in a very definite share. She had returned to the work +of the store, such as she had undertaken in the days when her husband +was alive and Murray had not yet made his appearance upon the river. +Then, too, Alec had returned from his summer trail, his first real +adventure without the guiding hand of his father to direct him. He had +returned disillusioned. He had returned discontented. His summer bag +was incomparable with his effort. It was far below that of the average +river Indians. +</P> + +<P> +He went back to the store, to the work he disliked, without any +willingness, and only under the pressure of his perturbed mother and +sister. Furthermore, he quickly began to display signs of rebellion +against Murray McTavish's administration of affairs. +</P> + +<P> +Murray was considering this attitude just now. He was standing alone, +just within the gates of the Fort, and his meditative gaze was turned +upon a wonderful sunset which lit the distant heights of the outspread +glacial field with a myriad of varying tints. +</P> + +<P> +There had been words with Alec only a few minutes before. It was on +the subject of appraising values. Alec, in a careless, haphazard +fashion, had baled some inferior pelts with a number of very beautiful +foxes. Murray had discovered it by chance, and his words to the youth +had been sharply admonishing. +</P> + +<P> +Alec, tall as his father had been, muscular, bull-necked in his +youthful physical strength, bull-headed in his passionate impetuosity, +had flared up immoderately. +</P> + +<P> +"Then do it your darn self!" he cried, the hot blood surging to his +cheeks, and his handsome eyes aflame. "Maybe you think I'm hired man +in this layout, an' you can hand me any old dope you fancy. Well, I +tell you right here, you need to quit it. I don't stand for a thing +from you that way. You'll bale your own darn buys, or get the boys to +do it." +</P> + +<P> +With this parting the work of his day was terminated. He departed for +the Mission clearing, leaving Murray to digest his words at leisure. +</P> + +<P> +Murray was digesting them now. They were rankling. Bitterly rankling +in a memory which rarely forgot things. But his round, ample face +displayed no definite feeling other than that which its tendency +towards a smile suggested. +</P> + +<P> +His own work was finished. Though he would not have admitted it he was +tired, weary of the chaffer of it all. But his weariness was only the +result of a day's labor, mental and physical, from sunrise to sunset. +</P> + +<P> +The scene before him seemed to hold him. His big eyes never wavered +for a moment. There was something of the eagle in the manner in which +they stared unflinchingly at the radiant brilliancy of the western sky. +</P> + +<P> +He stood thus for a long time. He displayed no sign of wearying of his +contemplation. It was only an unusual sound which finally changed the +direction of his gaze. +</P> + +<P> +It was the soft shuffle of moccasined feet that reached his quick ears. +It was coming up from the wooded slopes below him, a direction which +came from the river, but not from the landing. His questioning eyes +searched closely the sharp cut, where the pine trees gave way to the +bald crown on which the Fort stood. And presently two figures loomed +out of the shadow of the woods, and paused at the edge of them. +</P> + +<P> +They were Indians in beaded buckskin, and each was laboring under a +burden of pelts which seemed unusually heavy for its size. They were +armed, too, with long rifles of a comparatively modern type. +</P> + +<P> +Some moments passed while they surveyed the figure at the gates. Then, +after the exchange of a few words between themselves, they came +steadily on towards the Fort. +</P> + +<P> +Murray waited. The men approached. Neither spoke until the men halted +in front of the trader and relieved themselves of their burdens. Then +it was that Murray spoke, and he spoke fluently in an Indian tongue. +The men responded in their brief spasmodic fashion. After which the +white man led the way into the store. +</P> + +<P> +The incident was one such as might have occurred any time during these +days of busy trading. There was certainly nothing peculiar about it in +its general outline. And yet there was a subtle suggestion of +something peculiar in it. Perhaps it was in the weight of the bales of +pelts these men carried. Perhaps it was that Murray had addressed them +in a definite Indian tongue first, without waiting to ascertain whence +they hailed, or to what small tribe they belonged. Perhaps it was the +lateness of the hour, and the chance that Murray should be waiting +there after the day's work was completed, when it was his eager custom +to seek his evening meal down at Ailsa Mowbray's home, and spend his +brief leisure in company of Alec's sister. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly an hour before the two Indians reappeared. When they did +so the last of the splendid sunset had disappeared behind the distant +peaks. They left the Fort relieved of their goods, and bearing in +their hands certain bundles of trade. They hurried away down the slope +and vanished into the woods. And some minutes later the sound of the +dipping paddles came faintly up upon the still evening air. +</P> + +<P> +Murray had not yet reappeared. And it was still some time before his +bulky form was visible hurrying down the short cut to the Mission +clearing. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The evening meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house was more than half over when +Murray appeared. He bustled into the little family circle, radiating +good humor and friendliness. There could be no doubt of his apparent +mood. +</P> + +<P> +The comfort and homeliness of the atmosphere into which he plunged were +beyond words. The large room was well lit with good quality oil lamps, +whose warmth of light was mellow, and left sufficient shadow in the +remoter corners to rob the scene of any garishness. The stove was +roaring under its opened damper. The air smelt warm and good, and the +pungent odor of hot coffee was not without pleasure to the hungry man. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie retained their seats at the amply filled table. +But Alec rose from his and departed without a word, or even a glance in +Murray's smiling direction. The rudeness, the petulance of his action! +These things left his mother and sister in suspense. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray took charge of the situation with a promptness and ease that +cleared what looked like the further gathering of storm-clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, ma'am," he cried at once, "I just deserve all you feel like +saying, but don't say, anyway. Late? Why, I guess I'm nearly an hour +late. But I got hung up with some freight coming in just as I was +quitting. I'm real sorry. Maybe Jessie here's going to hand me some +words. That so, Jessie?" +</P> + +<P> +His smiling eyes sought the girl's with kindly good nature. But Jessie +did not respond. Her eyes were serious, and her mother came to her +rescue. +</P> + +<P> +"That doesn't matter a thing, Murray," she said, in her straightforward +fashion, as she poured out the man's coffee, while he took his seat +opposite Jessie. Then she glanced at the door through which Alec had +taken himself off. "But what's this with Alec? You've had words. +He's been telling us, and he seems mad about things, and—you. What's +the matter with the boy? What's the matter between you, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +The man shrugged helplessly. Nor would his face mold itself into a +display of seriousness to match the two pairs of beautiful eyes +regarding him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I guess we had a few words," he said easily. "Maybe I was hasty. +Maybe he was. It don't figure anyway. And, seeing it's not Alec's way +to lie about things, I don't suppose there's need for me to tell you +the story of it. Y'see, ma'am, I ought to remember Alec's just a boy +full of high spirits, and that sort of thing, but, in the rush of work, +why, it isn't always easy. After supper I figger to get a yarn with +him and fix things up." +</P> + +<P> +Then he laughed with such a ring of genuineness that Jessie found +herself responding to it, and even her mother's eyes smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not easy when I'm on the jump. I guess nobody is, not even Alec." +Murray turned to Jessie. "It's queer folks act the way they do. Ever +see two cats play? They're the best of friends. They'll play an hour, +clawing and biting. Then in a second it's dead earnest. The fur you +could gather after that would stuff a—down pillow." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's smile had vanished. She sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's not that way with you two folk. The cats will be playing +around again in five minutes. Alec's up against you all the time. And +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's smile still remained. +</P> + +<P> +"Alec's his father's son, I guess. His father was my best friend. His +mother and sister I hope and believe are that way, too." Then quite +suddenly his big eyes became almost painfully serious. The deep glow +in them shone out at those he was facing. "Say, I'm going to tell you +folks just how I feel about this thing. It kind of seems this is the +moment to talk clear out. Alec's trouble is the life here. I can see +it most every way. He's a good boy. He's got points I'd like to know +I possess. He's his father over again, without his father's +experience. Say, he's a blood colt that needs the horse-breaker of +Life, and, unless he gets it, all the fine points in him are going to +get blunted and useless, and there's things in him going to grow up and +queer him for life. He needs to think right, and we folks here can't +teach him that way. Not even Father José. There's jest one thing to +teach him, and that's Life itself—on his own. If I figger right he'll +flounder around. He'll hit snags. He'll get bumped, and, maybe, have +some nasty falls. But it's the only way for a boy of his spirit, +and—weakness." +</P> + +<P> +"Weakness?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's echo came sharply. She resented the charge with all a +sister's loyalty. But her mother took up her challenge. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid Murray's right—in a way," she admitted, with a sigh. She +hated the admission, but she and her dead husband had long since +arrived at the same conclusion. "It worries me to think of," she went +on. "And it worries me to think of him out on the world—alone. I +wish I knew what's best. I've talked to Father José, and he agrees +with you, Murray. But——" +</P> + +<P> +For some moments Jessie had been thinking hard. She was angry with +Murray. She was almost angry with her mother. Now she looked over at +the man, and her pretty eyes had a challenge in them. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go and ask Alec to come right along here," she said. "You can +talk to him here and now, Murray. Let him decide things for himself, +and you, mother, abide by them. You both guess he's a boy. He's not. +He's a man. And he's going to be a good man. There never was any good +in women trying to think for men, any more than men-folk can think for +women. And there's no use in Murray handing us these things when +Alec's not here." +</P> + +<P> +She started up from her seat. Her mother protested. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll make trouble, Jessie," she said sharply. "The boy's in no mood +for talk—with Murray," she added warningly. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray, himself, became the deciding factor. +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie's right, ma'am," he said quickly. +</P> + +<P> +And in those words he came nearer to the good-will he sought in the +girl than he had ever been before. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll talk to him as you've—said to us?" the mother demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Murray's smile was warmly affirmative. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do all I know." +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray was left without further protest. But she offered no +approval. Just for one second Jessie glanced in her mother's +direction. It was the girl in her seeking its final counsel from the +source towards which it always looked. But as none was forthcoming she +was left to the fact of Murray's acceptance of her challenge. +</P> + +<P> +She turned from the table and passed out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray raised a pair of handsome, troubled eyes to the factor's +face. Her confidence in this man was second only to the confidence she +had always had in her husband's judgment. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think it wise?" she demurred. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the only thing, ma'am," Murray replied seriously. "Jessie's dead +right." He held up one fleshy hand and clenched it tightly. "Trouble +needs to be crushed like that—firmly. There's a whole heap of trouble +lying around in this thing. I've got to do the best for the folks +Allan left behind, ma'am, and in this I guess Jessie's shown me the +way. Do you feel you best step around while I talk to Alec? There's +liable to be awkward moments." +</P> + +<P> +The mother understood. She had no desire to pry into the methods of +men in their dealings with each other. She rose from the table and +passed into her kitchen beyond. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT +</H3> + + +<P> +Murray McTavish was standing before the glowing wood stove when Alec +entered the room. The factor was gazing down at the iron box of it +with his fat, strong hands outspread to the warmth. He was not cold. +He had no desire for the warmth. He was thinking. +</P> + +<P> +He was not a prepossessing figure. His clothing bulged in almost every +direction. In age this loses its ugliness. In a young man there is no +more painful disadvantage. His dark hair was smoothly brushed, almost +to sleekness. His clothing was good, and by no means characteristic of +the country. He was the epitome of a business man of civilization, +given, perhaps, to indulgence in the luxuries of the table. Nature had +acted unkindly by him. He knew it, and resented it with passionate +bitterness. +</P> + +<P> +Alec Mowbray displayed no hesitation. He entered the room quickly, and +in a truculent way, and closed the door with some sharpness behind him. +The action displayed his mood. And something of his character, too. +</P> + +<P> +Murray took him in from head to foot without appearing to observe him. +Nor was his regard untinged with envy. The youngster was over six feet +in height. In his way he was as handsome as his mother had been. +There was much of his dead father about him, too. But his eyes had +none of the steadiness of either of his parents. His mouth was soft, +and his chin was too pointed, and without the thrust of power. But for +all these things his looks were beyond question. His fair, crisply +curling hair, his handsome eyes, must have given him an appeal to +almost any woman. Murray felt that this was so. He envied him and—— +He looked definitely in the boy's direction in response to a rough +challenge. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's shining eyes gazed steadily at him. The smile so usual to him +had been carefully set aside. It left his face almost expressionless +as he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you I'm sorry for—this afternoon. Darn sorry. I was +on the jump with work, and didn't pause to think. I hadn't the right +to act the way I did. And—well, I guess I'm real sorry. Will you +shake?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy was all impulse, and his impulses were untainted by anything +more serious than hot-headed resentment and momentary intolerance. +Much of his dislike of Murray was irresponsible instinct. He knew, in +his calmer moments, he had neither desire nor reason to dislike Murray. +Somehow the dislike had grown up with him, as sometimes a boy's dislike +of some one in authority over him grows up—without reason or +understanding. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray's amends were too deliberate and definite to fail to appeal +to all that was most generous and impulsive in Alec. It was impossible +for him to listen to a man like Murray, generously apologizing to him, +without going more than half-way to meet him. His face cleared of its +shadow. His hot eyes smiled, as many times Murray had seen his mother +smile. He came towards the stove with outstretched hand. A hand that +could crush like a vice. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you just don't need to say another word, Murray," he exclaimed. +"And, anyway, I guess you were right. I'd slacked on those pelts and +knew it, and—and that's what made me mad—you lighting on it." +</P> + +<P> +The two men shook hands, and Alec, as he withdrew his, passed it across +his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. +</P> + +<P> +"But say, Murray," he went on, in a tone of friendliness that rarely +existed between them. "I'm sick. Sick to death with it all—and +that's about the whole of the trouble. It's no sort of good. I can't +even keep my mind on the work, let alone do it right. I hate the old +store. Guess I must get out. I need to feel I can breathe. I need to +live. Say, I feel like some darn cabbage setting around in the middle +of a patch. Jess doesn't understand. Mother doesn't. Sometimes I +kind of fancy Father José understands. But you know. You've lived in +the world. You've seen it all, and know it. Well, say, am I to be +kept around this forgotten land till my whiskers freeze into sloppy +icicles? I just can't do it. I've tried. Maybe you'll never know how +I've tried—because of mother, and Jess, and the old dad. Well, I've +quit now. I've got to get out a while, or—or things are going to +bust. Do you know how I feel? Do you get me? I'll be crazy with six +months more of this Fort, and these rotten neches. Gee! When I think +how John Kars has lived, and where he's lived, it gets me beat seeing +him hunting the long trail in these back lands." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's smile had returned. But it was encouraging and friendly, and +lacked all fixity. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe the other life set him crazy, same as this is fixing you," he +said, with perfect amiability. +</P> + +<P> +The boy laughed incredulously. He flung himself into his mother's +chair, and looked up at Murray's face above the stove. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe that life could set folk crazy. There's too much to +it," he laughed. He went on a moment later with a warmth of enthusiasm +that must have been heart-breaking to those of greater experience. +"Think of a city," he cried, almost ecstatically. "A big, live city. +All lights at night, and all rushing in daylight. Men eager and +striving in competition. Meeting, and doing, and living. Women, +beautiful, and dressed like pictures, with never a thought but the joy +of life, and the luxury of it all. And these folk without a smell of +the dollars we possess. Folk without a difference from us. Think of +the houses, the shows, the railroads. The street cars. The sleighs. +The automobiles. The hotels. The dance halls. The—the—oh, gee, it +makes me sick to think of all I've missed and you've seen. I can't—I +just can't stand for it much longer." +</P> + +<P> +Murray nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess I—understand." Then, in a moment, his eyes became serious, as +though some feeling stirred them that prompted a warning he was +powerless to withhold. "It's an elegant picture, the way you see it. +But it's not the only picture. The other picture comes later in life, +and if I tried to paint it for you I don't reckon you'd be able to see +it—till later in life. Anyway, a man needs to make his own +experience. Guess the world's all you see in it, sure. But there's a +whole heap in it you don't see—now. Say, and those things you don't +see are darn ugly. So ugly the time'll come you can't stand for 'em +any more than you can stand for the dozy life around here now. Those +folk you see in your dandy picture are wage slaves worshiping the gods +of this darned wilderness just as we are right here. Just as are all +the folks who come around this country, and I'd say there's many folks +hating all the things you fancy, as bad as you hate the life you've +been raised to right here. Still, I guess it's up to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd give a heap to have mother think that way," Alec responded with a +shade of moodiness. +</P> + +<P> +"She does think that way." +</P> + +<P> +The youngster sprang from his chair. His eyes were shining, and a +joyous flush mounted to his handsome brow. There was no mistaking the +reckless youth in him. +</P> + +<P> +"She does? Then—say, it's you who've persuaded her. There hasn't +been a day she hasn't tried to keep me right here, like—like some darn +kid. She figgers it's up to me to choose what I'll do?" he cried +incredulously. +</P> + +<P> +Murray nodded. His eyes were studying the youth closely. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll tell her right away." Alec laughed a whole-hearted, +care-free laugh. "I'll ask her for a stake, and then for Leaping +Horse. Maybe Seattle, and 'Frisco—New York! Murray, if you've done +this for me, I'm your slave for life. Say, I'd come near washing your +clothes for you, and I can't think of a thing lower. You'll back me +when I put it to her?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no need. She'll do just as you say." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's moment of serious regard had passed. He was smiling his +inscrutable smile again. +</P> + +<P> +"When? When?" +</P> + +<P> +The eagerness of it. It was almost tragic. +</P> + +<P> +"Best go down with me," Murray said. "I'm making Leaping Horse early +this fall on the winter trail. I'm needing stocks. I'm needing arms +and stuff. How'd that fix you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bully!" Then the boy laughed out of the joy of his heart. "But fix +it early. Fix it good and early." +</P> + +<P> +The exclamation came in such a tone that pity seemed the only emotion +for it to inspire. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray had finished. Whatever he felt there was no display of any +emotion in him. And pity the least of all. He crossed to the door +which opened into the kitchen. He opened it. In response to his call +Ailsa Mowbray appeared, followed by Jessie. +</P> + +<P> +Murray indicated Alec with a nod. +</P> + +<P> +"We're good friends again," he said. "We've acted like two school +kids, eh, Alec?" he added. "And now we've made it up. Alec figgers +he'd like to go down with me this fall to Leaping Horse, Seattle, +'Frisco, and maybe even New York. I told him I guessed you'd stake +him." +</P> + +<P> +The widowed mother did not reply at once. The aging face was turned in +the direction of the son who meant so much to her. Her eyes, so +handsome and steady, were wistful. They gazed into the joy-lit face of +her boy. She could not deny him. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Alec, dear. Just ask me what you need—if you must go." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie gazed from one to the other of the three people her life seemed +bound up with. Alec she loved but feared for, in her girlish wisdom. +Murray she did not understand. Her mother she loved with a devotion +redoubled since her father's murder. Moreover, she regarded her with +perfect trust in her wisdom. +</P> + +<P> +The change wrought by Murray in a few minutes, however, was too +startling for her. Their destinies almost seemed to be swayed by him. +It seemed to her alarming, and not without a vague suggestion of terror. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Father José was lounging over his own wood stove in the comfort of a +pair of felt slippers, his feet propped up on the seat of another chair. +</P> + +<P> +He was a quaint little figure in his black, unclerical suit, and the +warm cloth cap of a like hue drawn carefully over a wide expanse of +baldness which Nature had imposed upon him. His alert face, with its +eyes whose keenness was remarkable and whose color nearly matched the +fringe of gray hair still left to him, gave him an interest which +gained nothing from his surroundings in the simple life he lived. It +was a face of intellect, and gentle-heartedness. It was a face of +purpose, too. The purpose which urges the humbler devotee to a charity +which takes the form of human rather than mere spiritual help. +</P> + +<P> +Father José loved humanity because it was humanity. Creed and race +made no difference to him. It was his way to stand beside the stile of +Life ready to help any, and everybody, over it who needed his help. He +saw little beyond that. He concerned himself with no doctrine in the +process. Help—physical, moral. That was his creed. And every day of +his life he lived up to it. +</P> + +<P> +The habits of the white folk at St. Agatha Mission varied little enough +from day to day. It was the custom to foregather at Mrs. Mowbray's +home in the evening. After which, with unfailing regularity, Murray +McTavish was wont to join the little priest in his Mission House for a +few minutes before retiring for the night to his sleeping quarters up +at the Fort. +</P> + +<P> +It was eleven o'clock, and the two men were together now in the shanty +which served the priest as a home. +</P> + +<P> +It was a pathetic parody of all that home usually conveys. The comfort +of it was only the comfort radiating from the contentment of the owner +in it. Its structure was powerful to resist storm. Its furnishing was +that which the priest had been able to manufacture himself. But the +stove had been a present from Allan Mowbray. The walls were whitened +with a lime wash which disguised the primitive plaster filling in +between the lateral logs. There were some photographs pinned up to +help disguise other defects. There were odds and ends of bookshelves +hung about, all laden to the limit of their capacity with a library +which had been laboriously collected during the long life of Mission +work. Four rough chairs formed the seating accommodation. A table, +made with a great expenditure of labor, and covered with an old +blanket, served as a desk. Then, at the far end of the room, under a +cotton ceiling, to save them from the dust from the thatch above, stood +four trestle beds, each with ample blankets spread over it. Three of +these were for wayfarers, and the fourth, in emergency, for the same +purpose. Otherwise the fourth was Father José's own bed. Behind this +building, and opening out of it, was a kitchen. This was the entire +habitation of a man who had dedicated his life to the service of others. +</P> + +<P> +Murray was sitting at the other side of the stove and his bulky figure +was only partly visible to the priest from behind the stovepipe. Both +men were smoking their final pipe before retiring. The priest was +listening to the trader in that watchful manner of one deeply +interested. They were talking of Alec, and the prospects of the new +decision. Murray's thoughts were finding harsh expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, we're all between the devil and the deep sea," he said, with a +hard laugh. "The boy's only fit to be tied to a woman's strings. +That's how I see it. Just as I see the other side of it. He's got to +be allowed to make his own gait. If he doesn't, why—things are just +going to break some way." +</P> + +<P> +The priest nodded. He was troubled, and his trouble looked out of his +keen eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he agreed. "And the devil's mostly in the deep waters, too. +It's devil all around." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it is." Murray bent down to the stove and lit a twist of paper +for his pipe. "Do you know the thing that's going to happen? When we +get clear away from here, and that boy's pocket is filled with the +bills his ma has handed him, I'll have as much hold on him as he's +going to have on those dollars. If I butt in he'll send me to hell +quick. And if I don't feel like taking his dope lying down there'll be +something like murder done. If I'm any judge of boys, or men, that +kid's going to find every muck hole in Leaping Horse—and there's +some—and he's going to wallow in 'em till some one comes along and +hauls him clear of the filth. What he's going to be like after—why, +the thought makes me sweat! And Allan—Allan was my friend." +</P> + +<P> +"But—you advised his mother?" The priest's eyes were searching. +</P> + +<P> +Murray crushed his paper tight in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"How'd you have done?" he demanded shortly. +</P> + +<P> +The priest weighed his words before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"The same as you," he said at last. "Life's full up of pot holes. We +can't learn to navigate right if we don't fall into some of them. I've +taught that boy from his first days. He's the makings of anything, in +a way. He can't be kept here. He's got to get out, and work off his +youthful insanity. Whatever comes of it, it won't be so bad as if he +stopped around. I think you've done the best." He sighed. "We must +hope, and watch, and—be ready to help when the signal comes. God +grant he comes to no——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off and turned towards the heavy closed door of the shanty, in +response to a sharp knocking. In a moment he was on his feet as the +door was thrust open, and two familiar figures pushed their way in. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, John Kars, this is the best sight I've had in weeks," cried the +priest, with cordiality in every tone of his voice, and every feature +of his honest face. "And, Dr. Bill, too? This is fine. Come right +in." +</P> + +<P> +The Padre's cordiality found full reflection in his visitors' faces as +they wrung his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"It's been some hustle getting here," said Kars. "There wasn't a +chance sending on word. We made the landing, and came right along up. +Ha, Murray. Say, we're in luck." +</P> + +<P> +Both men shook hands with the factor, while the priest drew up the +other chairs to the stove, which he replenished with a fresh supply of +logs from the corner of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"But I guess we're birds of bad omen," Kars went on, addressing Murray +in particular. "The neches are out on Bell River, and they sniped us +right along down to within twenty miles of the Fort." +</P> + +<P> +"The Bell River neches within twenty miles of the Fort?" +</P> + +<P> +It was the priest who answered him. His question was full of alarm. +He was thinking of the women of the Mission, white as well as colored. +</P> + +<P> +Murray remained silent while Kars and Bill dropped wearily into the +chairs set for them. Then, as the great bulk of the man he disliked +settled itself, and he held out his chilled hands to the comforting +stove, his voice broke the silence which followed on the priest's +expression of alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"Best tell us it right away. We'll need to act quick," he said, his +eyes shining under the emotion stirring him. +</P> + +<P> +Kars looked across at the gross figure which suggested so little of the +man's real energy. His steady eyes were unreadable. His thoughts were +his own, masked as emphatically as any Indian chief's at a council. +</P> + +<P> +"They handed me this," he said, with a hard laugh, indicating the +bandage which still surrounded his neck, although his wound had almost +completely healed under the skilful treatment of Dr. Bill. "We hit +their trail nearly two days from Bell River. They'd massacred an +outfit of traveling Indians, and burnt their camp out. However, we +kept ahead of them, and made the headwaters of the river. But we +didn't shake 'em. Not by a sight. They hung on our trail, I guess, +for nearly three weeks. We lost 'em twenty miles back. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +Bill and the priest sat with eyes on Murray. The responsibility of the +post was his. Kars, too, seemed to be looking to the factor. +</P> + +<P> +Murray gave no outward sign for some moments. His dark eyes were +burning with the deep fires which belonged to them. He sat still. +Quite still. Then he spoke, and something of the force of the man rang +in his words. +</P> + +<P> +"We got the arms for an outfit. But I don't guess we got enough for +defence of the post. It can't come to that. We daren't let it. I'm +getting a big outfit up this fall. Meanwhile, we'll need to get busy." +</P> + +<P> +He pulled out his timepiece and studied it deliberately. Then he +closed its case with a snap and stood up. He looked down into Kars' +watchful eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"They're on the river? Twenty miles back?" +</P> + +<P> +His questions came sharply, and Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"They're in big force?" +</P> + +<P> +Again Kars made a sign, but this time in the negative. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Right. I'll be on the trail in an hour." +</P> + +<P> +The factor turned to the Padre. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, just rouse out the boys while I get other things fixed. There +isn't a minute to waste." +</P> + +<P> +He waited for no reply, but turned at once to Kars and Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you fellers'll keep your outfit right here. There's the +women-folk. It's in case of—accident?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll join you, and leave Bill, here, with the Padre and the outfit." +Kars' suggestion came on the instant. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray vetoed it promptly. He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"It's up to me," he said curtly. Then he became more expansive. +"You've had yours. I'm looking for mine. I'm getting out for the sake +of the women-folk. That's why I'm asking you to stop right here. You +can't tell. Maybe they'll need all the help we can hand them. I've +always figgered on this play. Best act my way." +</P> + +<P> +There was something like a flicker of the eyelid as Kars acquiesced +with a nod. Except for that his rugged face was deadly serious. He +filled his pipe with a leisureliness which seemed incompatible with the +conditions of the moment. Bill seemed to be engrossed in the study of +the stove. Murray had turned to the Padre. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word to the women. We don't need to scare them. This thing's +got to be fixed sudden and sharp." +</P> + +<P> +A moment later he was gone. +</P> + +<P> +The Padre was climbing into a heavy overcoat. The night was chill +enough, and the little missionary had more warmth in his heart than he +had in his blood channels. He moved across to the door to do his part +of the work, when Kars' voice arrested him. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Padre," he cried, "don't feel worried too much. Murray'll fix +things." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were smiling as the priest turned and looked into them. Bill +was smiling, too. +</P> + +<P> +"They <I>are</I> twenty miles back—on the river?" +</P> + +<P> +The priest's demand was significant. The smiles of these men had +raised a doubt in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Then—the position's bad." +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell spoke for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"The post and Mission's safe—anyway. Murray'll see to that." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FATHER JOSE PROBES +</H3> + + +<P> +It was a startled community that awoke next morning at Fort Mowbray. +The news was abroad at the earliest hour, and it reached Jessie Mowbray +in the kitchen, as she made her appearance to superintend the +preparation of breakfast. The Indian wench told her, with picturesque +embellishments, such as are reserved for the native tongue. Jessie +listened to the story of the descent of the Bell River Indians to the +region of the Fort with feelings no less disturbed than those of the +colored woman. They were no longer mistress and servant. They were +just two women confronting a common danger. +</P> + +<P> +But the news of the arrival of John Kars, wounded, swiftly overwhelmed +all other considerations in Jessie's mind. Breakfast was left in the +hands of the squaw while the girl hastened to her mother's room. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray listened to the girl's story with no outward signs of +fear. She had passed through the worst fires that could assail her a +year ago. Nothing the warlike Indians could threaten now could +reproduce the terror of that time. +</P> + +<P> +The story of it came in a rush. But it was not until Jessie told of +John Kars, and his wounded condition, that the real emotions of the +moment were revealed. She implored her mother to permit her to go at +once and minister to him, to learn the truth about his condition, to +hear, first hand, of the catastrophe that had happened. Nor did she +passively yield to her mother's kindly admonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, child," she said, in her steady smiling way, "this country's +surely got right into your veins. You're like an unbroken colt. +You're as wild as any of those kiddies you figger to teach over at the +Mission. It's not for a child of mine to wait around on any man +living. Not even John Kars. Guess he's got Dr. Bill and Father José, +anyway. Maybe they'll get along over later." +</P> + +<P> +The girl flushed scarlet. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, mother," she cried in distress, "don't—just don't think that way +of me. I—love him, and wouldn't help it if I could. But he's sick. +Maybe he's sick to death. Men—men can't fix sick folk. They +can't—sure." +</P> + +<P> +The mother looked into the girl's eyes with gentle tolerance, and a +certain amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"Not even Dr. Bill, who's had sick folk on his hands most all his +life?" she demanded. "Not even José, who's nursed half the kiddies at +the Mission one time or another?" She shook her head. "Besides, you +only know the things Susan's handed you out of her fool head. And when +Susan talks, truth isn't a circumstance. I wouldn't say but what John +Kars hasn't got shot up at all—till I see him." +</P> + +<P> +For all her easy manner she was troubled. And when Jessie had taken +herself back to the kitchen the ominous lines, which had gathered in +her face since her husband's murder, deepened. Distress looked out of +the eyes which gazed back at her out of her mirror as she stood before +it dressing her hair in the simple fashion of her life. +</P> + +<P> +Bell River! She had learned to hate and fear its very name. Her whole +destiny, the destiny of all belonging to her seemed to be bound up in +that fateful secret which had been her husband's, and to which she had +been only partially admitted. Somehow she felt that the day must come +when she would have to assert her position to Murray, and once and for +all break from under the evil spell of Bell River, which seemed to hang +over her life. +</P> + +<P> +But the shadow of it all lifted when later in the day John Kars and Dr. +Bill presented themselves. Kars' wound was almost completely healed, +and Jessie's delight knew no bounds. The mother reflected her +daughter's happiness, and she found herself able to listen to the story +of the adventures of these men without anything of the unease which had +at first assailed her. +</P> + +<P> +Their story was substantially that which had been told to Murray, and +it was told with a matter-of-fact indifference, and made light of, in +the strong tones of John Kars, on whom danger seemed to have so little +effect. As Mrs. Mowbray listened she realized something of the +strength of this man. The purpose in him. The absolute reliance with +which he dealt with events as they confronted him. And so her thoughts +passed on to the girl who loved him, and she wondered, and more than +ever saw the hopelessness of Murray's aspirations. +</P> + +<P> +The men took their departure, and, at Kars' invitation, Jessie went +with them to inspect their outfit. The mother was left gazing after +them from the open doorway. For all the aging since her husband's +death, she was still a handsome woman in her simple morning gown of a +bygone fashion. +</P> + +<P> +She watched the three as they moved away in the direction of the +woodland avenue, which, years ago, she had helped to clear. Her eyes +and thoughts were on the man, and the girl at his side. Bill had far +less place in them. +</P> + +<P> +She was thinking, and wondering, and hoping, as, perhaps, only a mother +can hope. And so engrossed was she that she did not observe the +approach of Father José, who came from the Indian camp amongst the +straight-limbed pine woods. It was only when the little man spoke that +she bestirred herself. +</P> + +<P> +"A swell pair, ma'am," he said, pausing beside the doorway, his keen +face smiling as his eyes followed the rapid gait of the girl striving +to keep pace with her companion's long strides. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the men?" +</P> + +<P> +There was no self-consciousness in Ailsa Mowbray. The priest shook his +head. +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie and Kars." +</P> + +<P> +The woman's steady eyes regarded the priest for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"I—wonder what you're—guessing." +</P> + +<P> +The priest's smile deepened. +</P> + +<P> +"That you'd sooner it was he than—Murray McTavish." +</P> + +<P> +The woman watched the departing figures as they passed out of view, +vanishing behind the cutting where the trees stopped short. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it to be—either of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." The man's reply came definitely. "But Murray hasn't a chance. +She'll marry Kars, or no one around this Mission." +</P> + +<P> +The woman sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"I promised Murray to—that his cause shouldn't suffer at my hands. +Murray's a straight man. His interests are ours. Maybe—it would be a +good thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Then he asked you?" +</P> + +<P> +The little priest's question came on the instant. And the glance +accompanying it was anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +For some moments no word passed between them. The woman was looking +back with regret at the time when Murray had appealed to her. Father +José was searching his heart to fortify his purpose. +</P> + +<P> +Finally he shook his white head. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma'am," he said seriously, "it's not good for older folks to seek to +fix these things for the young people who belong to them. Not even +mothers." Then his manner changed, and a sly, upward, smiling glance +was turned upon the woman's face above him. "I haven't a thing against +Murray. Nor have you. But I'd hate to see him marry Jessie. So would +you. I—I wonder why." +</P> + +<P> +The mother's reply came at once. It came with that curious brusqueness +which so many women use when forced to a reluctant admission. +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," she said. "I should hate it, too. I didn't want to say +it. I didn't want to admit it—even to myself. You've made me do +both, and—you've no right to. Murray was Allan's trusted friend and +partner. He's been our friend—my friend—right along. Why should I +hate the thought of him for Jessie? Can you tell me?" She shook her +head impatiently. "How could you? I couldn't tell myself." +</P> + +<P> +The shadow had deepened in Ailsa Mowbray's eyes. She knew she was +unjust. She knew she was going back on her given word. She despised +the thought. It was treachery. Yet she knew that both had become +definite in her mind from the moment when Jessie had involuntarily +confided her secret to her. +</P> + +<P> +Father José shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I can't tell you those things, ma'am," he said. "But I'm glad of +them. Very glad." +</P> + +<P> +He drew a deep breath as his gaze, abstracted, far off, was turned in +the direction where his Mission stood in all its pristine, makeshift +simplicity. The mother turned on him sharply as his quiet reply +reached her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you glad?" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes were searching his clean-cut profile. She knew she was +seeking this man's considered judgment. She knew she was seeking to +probe the feeling and thought which prompted his approval, because of +her faith in him. +</P> + +<P> +"Because Jessie's worth a—better man." +</P> + +<P> +"Better?" +</P> + +<P> +"Surely." +</P> + +<P> +For all his prompt reply Father José remained searching the confines of +the woodland clearing in his curiously abstracted fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, ma'am," he went on presently, helping himself to a pinch of +snuff, and shutting the box with a sharp slam, "goodness is just a +matter of degree. That's goodness as we folk of the earth understand +it. We see results. We don't see the motive. It's motive that counts +in all goodness. The man who lives straight, who acts straight when +temptation offers, may be no better than—than the man who falls for +evil. I once knew a <I>saint</I> who was hanged by the neck because he +murdered a man. He gave his life, and intended to give it, for a poor +weak fellow creature who was being tortured out of her senses by a man +who was no better than a hound of Hell. That man was made of the same +stuff as John Kars, if I know him. I can't see Murray McTavish acting +that way. Yet I could see him act like the other feller—if it suited +him. Murray's good. Sure he's good. But John Kars is—better." +</P> + +<P> +The mother sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel that way, too." Then in a moment her eyes lit with a subtle +apprehension, as though the man's words had planted a poison in her +heart that was rapidly spreading through her veins. "But there's +nothing wrong with Murray? I mean like—like you said." +</P> + +<P> +The little priest's smile was good to see. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thing, ma'am," he said earnestly. "Murray's gold, so far as we +see. It's only that we see just what he wants us to see. Kars is +gold, too, but—you can see clear through Kars. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +The woman's apprehensions were allayed. But she knew that, where +Jessie was concerned, the little Padre had only put into words those +unspoken, almost unrealized feelings which had been hers all along. +</P> + +<P> +She moved out of the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Alec's up at the Fort. Maybe he's fretting I'm not up there to help." +She smiled. "Say, the boy's changed since—since he's to get his +vacation. He hasn't a word against Murray—now. And I'm glad. So +glad." +</P> + +<P> +The Padre had turned to go. He paused. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd be gladder if it was John Kars he was making the trail with," he +said, in his direct fashion. Then he smiled. "And at this moment +maybe Murray's risking his life for us." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The mother sighed. The disloyalty of their feelings seemed deplorable, +and it was the priest who came to her rescue. +</P> + +<P> +"But it can't be. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"No. It would affront Murray." +</P> + +<P> +Father José nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray mustn't be affronted—with so much depending on him." +</P> + +<P> +"No." Ailsa Mowbray's eyes lit with a shadow of a smile as she went +on. "I feel like—like a plotter. It's terrible." +</P> + +<P> +For answer Father José nodded. He had no word to offer to dispel the +woman's unease, so he hurried away without further spoken word between +them. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray turned toward the path through the woods at the foot of +the hill. As she made her way up towards the Fort her thoughts were +painfully busy. What, she asked herself, again and again, was the +thing that lay at the back of the little priest's mind? What—what was +the curious, nebulous instinct that was busy at the back of her own? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN AND A MAID +</H3> + + +<P> +It was the second day after the arrival of John Kars and his outfit. +The noon meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house had been shared by the visitors. +The river was busy with the life of the post, mother and son had +returned to the Fort to continue their long day's work, and the +woodland paths approaching it were alive with a procession of those who +had wares to trade. It was a busy scene. And one which gave no hint +of any fear of the marauders whom Murray had gone to deal with. +</P> + +<P> +Besides John Kars' outfit at the landing a number of canoes were moored +along the river bank under the shadow of the gracious, dipping willows, +which had survived years of the break up of the spring ice and the +accompanying freshet. Indians and half-breeds lounged and smoked, +squatting around regardless of the hours which had small enough meaning +for them at any time. Just now contentment reigned in their savage +hearts. Each hour of their lives contained only its own troubles. +</P> + +<P> +It was the most pleasant time of the northern year. The spring dangers +on the river were past. The chill nights had long since sealed up the +summer wounds in the great glacier. As yet the summer heat of the +earth still shed its beneficent influence on the temperature of the +air. And, greatest blessing of all, the flies and mosquitoes were +rapidly abating their attacks, and the gaps in their ranks were +increasing with every frosty night that passed. +</P> + +<P> +The fall tints in the woods were ablaze on every hand. The dark green +of the pine woods kept the character of the northland weird. The +vegetation of deciduous habit had assumed its clothing of russet and +brown, whilst the scarlet of the dying maple lit up the darkening +background with its splendid flare, so like the blaze of a setting sun. +</P> + +<P> +Only the northland man can really appreciate the last weeks before the +merciless northern winter shuts him in. The hope inspired by the +turbulent spring speaks to him but of the delight of the season to +come. Far too often do the summer storms weight down his spirit to +make the height of the open season his time of festival. Those are the +days of labor. Fierce labor, in preparation for the dark hours of +winter. The days of early fall are the days in which he can look on +labor accomplished, and forward, with confidence, to security under +stress, and even a certain comfort. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Bill had been left at the landing with the canoes, and Peigan +Charley, and the pack Indians. The girl and the man were wandering +along the woodland bank, talking the talk of those whose years, for the +greater part, lay still before them, and finding joy in the simple fact +of the life which moved about them. No threat of the Indians which +Murray had gone to encounter on their behalf could cast a shadow over +their mood. They were full to the brim of strong young life, when the +world is gold tinted, a reflection of their own virile youth. +</P> + +<P> +They had come to a broad ditch which contained in its depths the narrow +trickle of a miniature cascade, pouring down from some spring on the +hillside, whereon the old Fort stood. It was absurdly wide for the +trifling watercourse it now disgorged upon the river. But then, in +spring the whole character of it was changed. In spring it was a +rushing torrent, fed by the melting snows, and tearing out its banks in +a wild, rebellious effort against all restraint. +</P> + +<P> +Just now its marshy bed was beyond Jessie's powers to negotiate. They +stood looking across it at the inviting shades of an avenue of heavy +red willows, with its winding alley of tawny grass fringing the stately +pine woods, whose depths suggested the chastened aisles of some +mediaeval cathedral. +</P> + +<P> +To the disappointed girl all further progress in that direction seemed +hopeless, and Kars stood watching the play of her feelings in the +expression of the mobile features he had learned to dream about on the +long trail. His steady eyes were smiling happily. Even the +roughnesses of his rugged face seemed to have softened under the +influence of his new feelings. His heavy, thrusting jaw had lost +something of the grim setting it wore upon the trail. His brows had +lost their hard depression, and the smile in his eyes lit up the whole +of his face with a transparent frankness and delight. Just now he was +a perfect illustration of the man Father José beheld in him. +</P> + +<P> +He pointed across the waterway. +</P> + +<P> +"Kind of seems a pity," he said, with a tantalizing suggestion in his +smiling eyes. "Git a peek under those shady willows. The grass, too. +We don't get a heap of grass north of 'sixty.' Then the sun's getting +in amongst those branches. An' we need to turn right around back. +Seems a pity." +</P> + +<P> +The girl withdrew her gaze from the scene. Her eyes smiled up into +his. They were so softly gray. So full of trusting delight. +</P> + +<P> +"What can we do?" she asked, a woman looking for guidance from the one +man. +</P> + +<P> +"Do?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed. He flung out a hand. He was not thinking of what he +purposed. The magic of Jessie's personality held him. Her tall +gracious figure. Its exquisite modeling. The full rounded shoulders, +their contours unconcealed by the light jacket she was wearing. Her +neck, soft with the gentle fulness of youth. The masses of ruddy brown +hair coiled on her bare head without any of the artificiality of the +women he encountered in Leaping Horse. The delicate complexion of her +oval cheeks, untouched by the fierce climate in which she lived. To +him she had become a perfect picture of womanhood. +</P> + +<P> +The girl laid her small hand in his with all the confidence of a child. +The warm pressure, as his fingers closed over it, thrilled her. +Without a word of protest she submitted to his lead. They clambered +down to the water's edge. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment she was lifted off her feet. She felt herself borne high +above the little gurgling cascade. Then she became aware of the +splashing feet under her. Then of a sinking sensation, as the man +waded almost knee-deep in mud. There were moments of alarmed suspense. +Then she found herself standing on the opposite bank, with the man +dripping at her side. +</P> + +<P> +Of the two courses open to her she chose the better. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed happily. Perhaps the choice was forced on her, for John +Kars' eyes were so full of laughter that the infection became +overwhelming. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you should have told me," she exclaimed censoriously. +</P> + +<P> +But the man shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess you'd have—refused." +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly should." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl's eyes denied her words. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'd have gone around back, and you'd have been disappointed. I +couldn't stand for your being disappointed. Say——" The man paused. +His eyes were searching the sunlit avenue ahead, where the drooping +willow branches hung like floral stalactites in a cavern of ripe +foliage. "It's queer how folks'll cut out the things they're yearning +for because other folks are yearning to hand 'em on to them." +</P> + +<P> +"No girl likes to be picked up, and—and thrown around like some ball +game, because a man's got the muscles of a giant," Jessie declared with +spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"No. It's kind of making out he's superior to her, when he isn't. +Say, you don't figger I meant that way?" +</P> + +<P> +There was anxiety in the final question for all the accompanying smile. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment Jessie was all regret. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't have time to think," she said, "and anyway I wouldn't have +figgered that way. And—and I'd hate a man who couldn't do things when +it was up to him. You'd stand no sort of chance on the northern trail +if you couldn't do things. You'd have been feeding the coyotes years +back, else." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and I'd hate to be feeding the coyotes on any trail." +</P> + +<P> +They were moving down the winding woodland alley. They brushed their +way through the delicate overhanging foliage. The dank scent of the +place was seductive. It was intoxicating with an atmosphere such as +lovers are powerless to resist. The murmur of the river came to them +on the one hand, and the silence of the pine woods, on the other, lent +a slumberous atmosphere to the whole place. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie laughed. To her the thought seemed ridiculous. +</P> + +<P> +"If the stories are true I guess it would be a mighty brave coyote +would come near you—dead," she said. Then of a sudden the happy light +died out of her eyes. "But—but—you nearly did—pass over. The Bell +River neches nearly had your scalp." +</P> + +<P> +It was the man's turn to laugh. He shook his head, +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry a thing that way," he said. +</P> + +<P> +But the girl's smile did not so readily return. She eyed the ominous +bandage which was still about his neck, and there was plain anxiety in +her pretty eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"How was it?" she demanded. "A—a chance shot?" +</P> + +<P> +"A chance shot." +</P> + +<P> +The man's reply came with a brevity that left Jessie wondering. It +left her feeling that he had no desire to talk of his injury. And so +it left her silent. +</P> + +<P> +They wandered on, and finally it was Kars who broke the silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I guess you feel I ought to hand you the story of it," he said. +"I don't mean you're asking out of curiosity. But we folks of the +north feel we need to hold up no secrets which could help others to +steer a safe course in a land of danger. But this thing don't need +talking about—yet. I got this getting too near around Bell River. +Well, I'm going to get nearer still." He smiled. "Guess I've been hit +on one cheek, and I'm going to turn 'em the other. It'll be a dandy +play seeing 'em try to hit that." +</P> + +<P> +"You're—you're going to Bell River—deliberately?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's tone was full of real alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. Next year." +</P> + +<P> +"But—oh, it's mad—it's craziness." +</P> + +<P> +The terror of Bell River was deep in Jessie's heart. Hers was the +terror of the helpless who have heard in the far distance but seen the +results. Kars understood. He laughed easily. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it's—crazy. But," his smiling eyes were gazing down into the +anxious depths the girl had turned up to him, "every feller who makes +the northern trail needs to be crazy some way. Guess I'm no saner than +the others. It's a craziness that sets me chasing down Nature's +secrets till I locate 'em right. Sometimes they aren't just Nature's +secrets. Anyway it don't figger a heap. Just now I'm curious to know +why some feller, who hadn't a thing to do with Nature beyond his shape, +fancied handing it me plumb in the neck. Maybe it'll take me all next +summer finding it out. But I'm going to find it out—sure." +</P> + +<P> +The easy confidence of the man robbed his intention of half its terror +for the girl. Her anxiety melted, and she smiled at his manner of +stating his case. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder how it comes you men-folk so love the trail," she said. "I +don't suppose it's all for profit—anyway not with you. Is it +adventure? No. It's not all adventure either. It's just dead +hardship half the time. Yes—it's a sort of craziness. Say, how does +it feel to be crazy that way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Feel? That's some proposition." Kars' face lit with amusement as he +pondered the question. "Say, ever skip out of school at the Mission, +and make a camp in the woods?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, then that won't help us any," Kars demurred, his eyes dwelling on +the ruddy brown of the girl's chestnut hair. "What about a swell party +after three days of chores in the house, when a blizzard's blowing?" +</P> + +<P> +"That doesn't seem like any craziness," the girl protested. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I guess not." +</P> + +<P> +Kars searched again for a fresh simile. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, how'd you feel if you'd never seen a flower, or green grass, or +woods, and rivers, and mountains?" he suddenly demanded. "How'd you +feel if you'd lived in a prison most all your life, and never felt your +lungs take in a big dose of God's pure air, or stretched the strong +elastic of the muscles your parents gave you? How'd you feel if you'd +read and read all about the wonderful things of Nature, and never seen +them, and then, all of a sudden, you found yourself out in a world full +of trees, and flowers, and mountains, and woods, and skitters, and +neches, and air—God's pure air, and with muscles so strong you could +take a ten foot jump, and all the wonderful things you'd read about +going on around you, such as fighting, murdering, and bugs and things, +and folks who figger they're every sort of fellers, and aren't, +and—and all that? Say, wouldn't you feel crazy? Wouldn't you feel +you wanted to take it all in your arms, and, and just love it to death?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe—for a while." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's eyes were smiling provocatively. She loved to hear him +talk. The strong rich tones of his voice in the quiet of the woodland +gave her a sense of possession of him. +</P> + +<P> +She went on. +</P> + +<P> +"After, I guess I'd be yearning for the big wood stove, and a rocker, +with elegant cushions, and the sort of food you can't cook over a +camp-fire." +</P> + +<P> +Kars shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you'd fancy feeling those things were behind you on the day your +joints began aching, and your breath gets as short as a locomotive on +an up grade. When the blood's running hot there's things on the trail +get right into it. Maybe it's because of the things they set into a +man when he first stubbed his toes kicking against this old earth; when +they told him he'd need to git busy fixing himself a stone club a size +bigger than the other feller's; and that if he didn't use it quicker, +and harder, he'd likely get his head dinged so his brain box wouldn't +work right and he wouldn't be able to rec'nize the coyotes when they +came along to pick his bones clean. You can't explain a thing of the +craziness in men's blood when they come up with the Nature they belong +to. It's the thing that sets lambs skipping foolish on legs that don't +ever look like getting sense. It's the same sets a kiddie dancing +along a sidewalk coming out of the schoolhouse, and falling into dumps +and getting its bow-tie mussed. It's the same sets a boy actin' +foolish when a gal's sorrel top turns his way, even when she's all legs +and sass. It's the same sets folks crazy to risk their lives on +hilltops that a chamois 'ud hate to inspect. Guess it's a sort o' +thanks offerin' to Providence it didn't see fit setting us crawling +around without feet or hands, same as slugs and things that worry +folks' cabbige patches. I allow I can't figger it else." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't to," Jessie declared, with a happy laugh. "Guess I know +it all—now." Then her eyes sobered. "But I—I wish you'd cut Bell +River right out." +</P> + +<P> +"Just don't you worry a thing, little Jessie," Kars said, with prompt +earnestness. He had no wish to distress her. "Bell River can't hand +me anything I don't know. Anyway I'd need to thank it if it could. +And when I get back maybe you won't need to lie awake o' nights +guessing a coyote's howl is the whoop of a neche yearning for your +scalp. Hello!" +</P> + +<P> +Their wanderings had brought them to a break in the willows where the +broad flow of the river came into full view, and the overhang of +glacial ice thrust out on the top of the precipitous bank beyond. But +it was none of this that had elicited the man's ejaculation, or had +caused his abrupt halt, and sobered the smile in his keen eyes. +</P> + +<P> +It was a pair of canoes moored close in to the bank. Two powerful +canoes, which were larger and better built than those of trading +Indians. Then there were two neches squatting on the bank crouching +over a small fire smoking their red clay pipes in silent contemplation. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie recognized the neches at a glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Murray must be back or——" +</P> + +<P> +Kars turned abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"They're Murray's? Say——" He glanced up at the hill which stood +over them. A well-beaten path led up through the pine woods. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie understood the drift of his thought. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a short way to the Fort," she said. "I wonder why he landed +here. He doesn't generally." +</P> + +<P> +But the man had no speculation to offer. +</P> + +<P> +"We best get his news," he said indicating the path. +</P> + +<P> +The moments of Jessie's delight had been swallowed up in the +significance of Murray's return. She agreed eagerly. And her +eagerness displayed the nearness to her heart of the terror of the +marauding Indians. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars led the way up the woodland path. It was the same path over +which the two trading Indians had reached the Fort on the night of his +arrival from Bell River. As he went he pondered the reason of the +trader's avoidance of the usual landing. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie watched his vigorous movements and found difficulty in keeping +pace with him. She saw in his hurry the interest he had in the affairs +of Bell River. She read in him something like confirmation of her own +fears. So she labored on in his wake without protest. +</P> + +<P> +Later, when they broke from the cover of the woods, she drew abreast of +him. She was breathing hard, and Kars became aware of the pace at +which he had come. In a moment he was all contrition. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, little Jessie," he cried, in his kindly fashion, "I'm real +sorry." Then he smiled as he slackened his gait. "It's my fool legs; +they're worse than some tongues for getting away with me. We'll take +it easy." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl refused to become a hindrance, and urged him on. Her own +desire was no less than his. +</P> + +<P> +The frowning palisade of the old Fort was above them. It stood out +staunch against the sky, yet not without some suggestion of the +sinister. And for the first time in her years of association with it +Jessie became aware of the impression. +</P> + +<P> +The old blackened walls frowned down severely. They looked like the +prison walls enclosing ages of secret doings which were never permitted +the clear light of day. They suggested something of the picture +conjured by the many fantastic folk stories which she had read in +Father José's library. The ogres and giants. The decoy of beautiful +girls luring their lovers to destruction within the walls of some +dreadful monster's castle. +</P> + +<P> +They passed in through the great gateway, with its massive doors flung +wide to the trade of the river. And they sought Murray's office. +</P> + +<P> +There they found Mrs. Mowbray and Alec. Murray, too, was at his desk. +</P> + +<P> +On their entrance they were greeted at once by the mother. Her eyes +were smiling and full of confidence. She looked into John Kars' face, +and he read her news even before she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"The country's clear of them," she cried, and her relief and delight +rang in every tone. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie went at once to her side. But Kars turned to the squat figure +which filled its chair to overflowing. His steady eyes regarded the +smiling features of the trader. +</P> + +<P> +"Did it come to a scrap?" he inquired easily. +</P> + +<P> +Murray shook his head. His dark eyes were no less direct than the +other's. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess there were too many in my outfit," he said with a shrug. "It +was a bunch of neches I'd have thought your outfit could have—eaten. +A poor lot—sure." +</P> + +<P> +He finished up with a deliberate laugh, and his intention was obvious. +</P> + +<P> +Kars understood, and did not display the least resentment. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad," he said seriously. "Real glad." Then he added: "I didn't +guess you'd have a heap of trouble." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the women. And his attitude left the trader's purpose +mean and small. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's got us all beaten anyhow," he said easily. "We think we're +wise. We think we know it all. But we don't. Anyway I'm glad the +danger's fixed. I guess it'll leave me free to quit for the outside +right away." +</P> + +<P> +Then he turned to Murray, and their eyes met, and held, and only the +two men knew, and understood, the challenge which lay behind. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess I can make Leaping Horse before the rivers freeze. But I'm +getting back here with the thaw. I allow next year I'm taking no sort +of chance. This hole in my neck," he went on, indicating the bandage +about his throat, "has taught me a lot I didn't know before. The +outfit I get around with next year will be big enough to eat up any +proposition Bell River can hand me." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE +</H3> + + +<P> +Leaping Horse was a beacon which reflected its ruddy light upon the +night sky, a sign, a lure to the yearning hearts at distant points, +toiling for the wage with which to pay for sharing in its wild +excesses. It was the Gorgon of the northland, alluring, destructive, +irresistible. It was a temple dedicated to the worship of the Gods of +the Wilderness. Light, luxury and vice. Such was the summing up of +Dr. Bill, and the few who paused in the mad riot for a moment's sober +thought. Furthermore Dr. Bill's estimate of the blatant gold city was +by no means a self-righteous belief. He had known the place from its +birth. He had treated its every ailment at the height of its burning +youth. Now, in its maturity, it fell to him to learn much of the inner +secrets of its accruing mental disease. He hated it and loved it, +almost one and the same emotion. He cried aloud its shame to listening +ears. In secret he wept over its iniquities, with all the pity of a +warm-hearted man gazing upon a wanton. +</P> + +<P> +But Leaping Horse was indifferent. It spread its shabby tendrils over +hundreds of acres of territory, feeding its wanton heart upon the +squalor which gathered about its fringe as well as upon the substance +of those upon whom it had showered its fortune. +</P> + +<P> +At night its one main street radiated a light and life such as could be +found in no city in the world. The wide, unpaved thoroughfare, with +its shabby sidewalks buried to a depth of many feet of snow in winter, +and mud in the early open season, gave no indication of the tide of +wealth which flowed in this main artery. Only at night, when a +merciful dark strove to conceal, did the glittering tide light up. +Then indeed the hideous blatancy of the city's life flared out in all +its painful vulgarity. +</P> + +<P> +In the heart of the Main Street the Elysian Fields Hotel, and theatre, +and dance hall stood out a glittering star of the first magnitude, +dimming the lesser constellations with which it was surrounded. A +hundred arc lamps flung out their challenge to all roysterers and +vice-seeking souls. Thousands of small globular lights, like ropes of +luminous pearls, outlined its angles, its windows, its cornices, its +copings. All its white and gold shoddy was rendered almost magnificent +in the night. Only in the light of day was its true worth made +apparent. But who, in Leaping Horse, wanted the day? No one. Leaping +Horse was the northern Mecca of the night pleasure seeker. +</P> + +<P> +The buildings adjacent basked in its radiance. Their own eyes were +almost blinded. Their mixed forms were painfully revealed. Frame +hutches, split log cabins rubbed shoulders with buildings of steel +frame and stone fronts. Thousand dollar apartments gazed disdainfully +down upon hovels scarcely fit to shelter swine. Their noses were +proudly lifted high above the fetid atmosphere which rose from the +offal-laden causeway below. They had no heed for that breeding ground +of the germs of every disease known to the human body. +</P> + +<P> +Then the roystering throng. The Elysian Fields. It was the beach +about which the tide ebbed and flowed. It was a rough rock-bound beach +upon which the waters of life beat themselves into a fury of excess. +Its lights were the beacons of the wreckers set up for the destruction +of the human soul. +</P> + +<P> +Chief amongst the wreckers was Pap Shaunbaum, a Hebrew of doubtful +nationality, and without scruple. He prided himself that he was a +caterer for the needs of the people. His thesis was that the northland +battle needed alleviation in the narrow lap of luxury where vice ruled +supreme. He had spent his life in searching the best means of personal +profit out of the broad field of human weakness, and discovered the +Elysian Fields. +</P> + +<P> +He had labored with care and infinite thought. He had built on a +credit from the vast bank of experience, and owned in the Elysian +Fields the finest machine in the world for wrecking the soul and pocket +of the human race. +</P> + +<P> +Every attraction lay to hand. The dance hall was aglitter, the floor +perfect, and the stage equipped to foster all that appealed to the +senses. The hotel with its splendid accommodation, its bars, its +gaming rooms, its dining hall, its supper rooms, its bustle of +elaborate service. There was nothing forgotten that ingenuity could +devise to loosen the bank rolls of its clientele, and direct the flow +of gold into the proprietor's coffers—not even women. As Dr. Bill +declared in one of his infrequent outbursts of passionate protest: "The +place is one darnation public brothel; a scandal to the northland, a +shame on humanity." +</P> + +<P> +It was here, gazing down on the crowded dance hall, from one of the +curtained boxes adjacent to the stage, on which a vaudeville programme +was being performed, that two men sat screened from the chance glance +of the throng below them. +</P> + +<P> +A table stood between them, and an uncorked bottle of wine and two +glasses were placed to their hand. But the wine stood untouched, and +was rapidly becoming flat. It had been ordered as a custom of the +place. But neither had the least desire for its artificial stimulation. +</P> + +<P> +They had been talking in a desultory fashion. Talking in the pleasant +intimate fashion of men who know each other through and through. Of +men who look upon life with a vision adjusted to a single focus. +</P> + +<P> +They were watching the comings and goings of familiar faces in the +glittering overdressed throng below. The women, splendid creatures in +gowns whose cost ran into hundreds of dollars, and bejeweled almost at +any price. Beautiful faces, many of them already displaying the +ravages of a life that moved at the swiftest gait. Others again +bloated and aging long before the years asserted their claims, and +still others, fresh with all the beauty of extreme youth and a life +only at the beginning of the downward course. +</P> + +<P> +The men, too, were no less interesting to the student of psychology. +Here was every type from the illiterate human mechanism whose muscles +dominated his whole process of life, to the cultured son of +civilization who had never known before the meaning of life beyond the +portals of the temples of refinement. Here they were all on the same +highway of pleasure. Here they were all full to the brim of a +wonderful joy of life. Care was for the daylight, when the secrets of +their bank roll would be revealed, and the draft on the exchequer of +health would have to be met. +</P> + +<P> +There was displayed no element of the soil from which these people drew +their wealth, except for the talk. They had long since risen from the +moleskin and top-boot stage in Leaping Horse. The Elysian Fields +demanded outward signs of respectability in the habiliments of its +customers, and the garish display of the women was there to enforce it. +Broadcloth alone was the mode, and conformity with this rule drew forth +many delights for the observing eye. +</P> + +<P> +But the people thus disguised remained the same. Every type was +gathered, from the sound, reasonable accumulator of wealth to the +"hold-up," the gambler, the fugitive from the law. It was said of +Leaping Horse that it only required the "dust" to buy any crime known +to the penal code. And here, here at the Elysian Fields, on any night +in the week, could be found the man or woman to perpetrate it at a +moment's notice. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Bill laughed without mirth. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee, it leaves the Bell River outfit saints beside them," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' contemplative eyes were following the movements of a handsome +blond woman with red-gold hair, which was aglitter with a half circle +band of jewels supporting an aigrette, which must have cost five +thousand dollars. She was obviously young, extremely young. To his +mind she could not have been more than twenty—if that. Her eyes were +deep blue, with unusually large pupils. Her lips were ripe with a +freshness which owed nothing to any salve. Her nose was almost +patrician, and her cheeks were tinted with the bloom of exquisite +fruit. Her gown was extremely décolleté, revealing shoulders and arms +of perfect ivory beauty. She was dancing a waltz with a man in +elaborate evening dress, who had discarded orthodox sobriety for crude +embellishments. The string band in the orchestra was playing with +seductive skill. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's that dame with the guy who guesses he's a parakeet?" he +demanded, without reply to the other's statement. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the feller with the sky blue lapels to his swallow-tails?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. That's the guy." +</P> + +<P> +"Maude. Chesapeake Maude. She's Pap Shaunbaum's piece. Quite a girl. +She's only been along since we quit here last spring. Pap's crazy on +her. Folks say he dopes out thousands a week on her. He brought her +from the East on a specially chartered vessel he had fitted up to suit +her fancy. They figger he's raised his pool here by fifty per cent +since she came." +</P> + +<P> +"She plays the old game for him right here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +Both men were absorbed in the girl's perfect grace of movement, as she +and her partner glided in and out through the dancing crowd. Her +attraction was immense even to these men, who were only onlookers of +the Leaping Horse riot. +</P> + +<P> +Bill touched his friend's arm. He indicated the bar at the far end of +the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Pap. He's watching her. Gee, he's watching her." +</P> + +<P> +A slim iron gray man, with a dark, keen face was standing beside one of +the pillars which supported the gallery above. He was dressed in +evening clothes of perfect cut, which displayed a clean-cut figure. He +was a handsome man of perhaps forty, without a sign of the dissipation +about his dark face that was to be seen in dozens of younger men about +him. As Dr. Bill once said of him, "One of hell's gentle-folk." +</P> + +<P> +A better description of him could not have been found. Under a +well-nigh perfect exterior he concealed a depth of infamy beyond +description. A confidential police report to the authorities in the +East once contained this paragraph: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Pap Shaunbaum has set up a big hotel in Leaping Horse. It will be +necessary to keep a 'special' at work watching him. We should like +authority to develop this further from time to time. His record both +here, and confidential from the States, leaves him more than +undesirable. Half the toughs in Leaping Horse are in his pay." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +That was written five years before. Since then the "special" had been +developed till a large staff was employed in the observation of the +Elysian Fields. And still under all this espionage "Pap," as he was +familiarly dubbed, moved about without any apparent concern, carrying +on his underground schemes with every outward aspect of inoffensive +honesty. All Leaping Horse knew him as a crook, but accepted him as he +posed. He was on intimate terms with all the gold magnates, and never +failed to keep on good terms with the struggling element of the +community. But he was a "gunman." He had been a "gunman" all his +life, and made small secret of it. The only change in him now was that +his gun was loaded with a different charge. +</P> + +<P> +"You figger he's dopey on her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Crazy. God help the feller that monkeys around that hen roost." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet he uses her for this play?" +</P> + +<P> +"With reserve." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Bill again gave a short hard laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't see her around with folk, except on that floor. Say, get a +peek at the boxes across the way, with the curtains half drawn. +They're all—occupied. You won't see Maude in those boxes, unless it's +with Pap. She's down on that floor because she loves dancing, and for +Pap's business. She's there for loot, sure, and she gets it plenty. +She's there with her dandy smile to see the rest of the women get busy. +Playing that feller's dirty game for all it's worth. And she's just a +gal full to the brim of life. He's bought her body and soul, and I +guess it's just for folks like us to sit around and watch for what's +coming. If I've got horse sense there's coming a big shriek one day, +and you'll see Pap clear through to his soul—if he's got one. He's +fallen for that dame bad. But I guess he's done the falling. I don't +guess any feller can gamble on a woman till she's in love, then I'd say +the gamble is she'll act foolish." +</P> + +<P> +Kars had no comment to offer. He was no longer watching Maude. The +dancing had ceased, and the floor had cleared. The orchestra had +already commenced the prelude to a vaudeville turn, and the drop +curtain had revealed the stage. +</P> + +<P> +His interest was centred on Pap Shaunbaum. The man was moving about +amongst his customers, exchanging a word here and there, his dark, +saturnine face smiling his carefully amiable business smile. To the +elemental man of the trail there was something very fascinating in the +way this one brain was pitting itself to plunder through the senses of +the rest of his world. +</P> + +<P> +But Dr. Bill knew it all with an intimacy that robbed it of any charm. +He had only repulsion, but repulsion that failed to deny a certain +attraction. His hot words broke through the noisy strumming of +vaudeville accompaniment. +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake," he said, "why do we stop around this sink? You! Why +do you? The long trail? And at the end of it you got to come back to +this—every trip. I hate the place, I loathe it like a hobo hates +water. But I'm bound to it. It's up to me to help mend the poor darn +fools who haven't sense but to squander the good life Providence handed +them. But you—you with your great pile, Pap, here, would love to dip +his claws into, there's no call for you acting like some gold-crazed +lunatic. Get out, man. Get right out and breathe the wholesome air +Providence meant for you. Oh, I guess you'll say it's all on the long +trail in the northland. There isn't a thing to keep you here." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't there?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars leaned back in his chair. He stretched his great arms above his +head, and clasped his hands behind his muscular neck. +</P> + +<P> +"There's so much to keep me here that life's not long enough to see it +through. Time was, Bill, when I guessed it was the north that had got +into my bones. But I didn't know. The long trail. The search. It +was gold—gold—gold. Same as it is with any of the other fools that +get around here. But I didn't just understand. That gold. No. I've +been searching, and the search for new ground has been one long dream +of life. But the gold I've been chasing wasn't the gold I thought it. +It wasn't the yellow stuff these folks here are ready to sell their +souls—and bodies—for. It was different. You guessed I had all the +gold I needed. But I hadn't, not of the gold I've been chasing. I +hadn't any of it. I—didn't even know its color when I saw it. I do +now. And it's the color I've seen looking out of a pair of +wonderful—wonderful gray eyes. Say, I don't quit the northland till I +can take it all with me. All there is of that gold I've found on the +long trail." +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why not take her?" +</P> + +<P> +The vaudeville turn was in full swing and the folks below were standing +around talking and drinking, and gazing with only partial interest at +the feats of a woman acrobatic dancer. Bill was looking at her, too. +But his thoughts were on the girl at Fort Mowbray and this man who was +his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not take her?" he urged. "Take her away from this storm-haunted +land, and set her on the golden throne you'd set up for her, where +there's warmth and beauty. Where there's no other care for her than to +yield you the wifely companionship you're yearning for. I guess she's +the one gal can hand you those things. If you don't do it, and do it +quick, you'll find the fruit in the pouch of another. Say, the harvest +comes along in its season, and it's got to be reaped. If the right +feller don't get busy—well, I guess some other feller will. There's +not a thing waits around in this world." +</P> + +<P> +The braying of the band deadened the sound of laughter, and the rattle +of glasses, and the talk going on below. Kars was still gazing down +upon the throng of pleasure seekers, basking in the brilliant glare of +light which searched the pallid and unhealthy, and enhanced the beauty +where artificiality concealed the real. His mood was intense. His +thoughts were hundreds of miles away. Quite suddenly he turned his +strong face to his friend. There was a deep light in his steady eyes, +and a grim setting to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to collect that harvest," he said, with a deliberate +emphasis. "If you don't know it you should. But I'm collecting it my +way. I'm going to marry Jessie, if your old friend Prov don't butt in. +But I'm going to cut the ground under the feet of the other feller my +own way, first. I've got to do that. I've a notion. It's come to me +slow. Not the way notions come to you, Bill. I'm different. I can +act like lightning when it's up to me, but I can't see into a brick +wall half as far as you—nor so quick. I've bin looking into a brick +wall ever since we hit Bell River, and I've seen quite a piece into it. +I'm not going to hand you what I've seen—yet. I've got to see more. +I won't see the real till I make Bell River again. If what I guess I'm +going to see is right, after that I'm going to marry Jessie right away, +and she, and her <I>mother</I>, and me—well, we're going to quit the north. +There won't be a long trail in this country can drag me an inch from +the terminals of civilization after that." +</P> + +<P> +A deep satisfaction shone in the doctor's smiling eyes as he gazed at +the serious face of his friend. But there was question, too. +</P> + +<P> +"You've laid a plain case but I don't see the whole drift," he said. +"Still you've fixed to marry Jessie, and quit this darnation country. +For me it goes at that—till you fancy opening out. But you're still +bent on the Bell River play. I've got all you said to me on the trail +down. You figger those folks are to be robbed by—some one. Do you +need to wait for that? Why not marry that gal and get right out taking +her folks with her? Let all the pirates do as they darn please with +Bell River. I don't get any other view of this thing right." +</P> + +<P> +"No. But I do." There was a curious, obstinate thrust to this big +man's jaw. "By heaven, Bill! The feller responsible for the murder of +my little gal's father, a father she just loved to death, don't git +away with his play if I know it. The feller that hands her an hour's +suffering needs to answer to me for it, and I'm ready to hand over my +life in seeing he gets his physic. There's no one going to get away +with the boodle Allan gave his life for—not if I can hold him up. +That's just as fixed in my mind as I'm going to marry Jessie. Get that +good. And I hold you to your word on the trail. You're with me in it. +I've got things fixed, and I've set 'em working. I'm quitting for +Seattle in the morning. You'll just sit around lying low, and doping +out your physic to every blamed sinner who needs it. Then, with the +spring, you'll stand by ready to quit for the last long trail with me. +Maybe, come that time, I'll hand you a big talk of all the fool things +I've got in my head. How?" +</P> + +<P> +The other drew a deep sigh. But he nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. If you're set that way—why, count me in." +</P> + +<P> +"The man that can 'ante' blind maybe is a fool. But he's good grit +anyway. Thanks, Bill. I—what's doing?" +</P> + +<P> +The sharpness of Kars' inquiry was the result of a startled movement in +his companion. Dr. Bill was leaning forward. But he was leaning so +that he was screened by the heavy curtain of the box. He was craning. +In his eyes was a profound look of wonder, almost of incredulity. +</P> + +<P> +The vaudeville act had come to an end with a brazen flourish from the +orchestra, and a waltz had been started on the instant. The eyes of +the man were staring down at the floor below, where, already, several +couples were gliding over its polished surface. +</P> + +<P> +"Look," he said, in a suppressed tone of voice. "Keep back so he don't +see you. Get a look at Chesapeake Maude." +</P> + +<P> +Kars searched the room for the beautiful red-gold head. He looked +amongst the crowd. Then his gaze came to the few dancers, their +numbers already augmenting. The flash of jewels caught his gaze. The +wonderful smiling face with its halo of red-gold. An exclamation broke +from him. +</P> + +<P> +"Alec Mowbray!" +</P> + +<P> +But it was left to Bill to find expression for the realization that was +borne in on them both. +</P> + +<P> +"And he's half soused. The crazy kid!" +</P> + +<P> +Maude seemed to float over the gleaming floor. Alec Mowbray, for all +the signs of drink he displayed, was no mean partner. His handsome +face, head and shoulders above the tall woman he was dancing with, +gazed out over the sea of dancers in all the freshness of his youthful +joy, and triumph. He danced well, something he had contrived to learn +in the joyless country from which he hailed. But there was no +reflection of his joy in the faces of the two men gazing down from the +shelter of the curtained box. There were only concern and a grievous +regret. +</P> + +<P> +Bill rose with a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +"I quit," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kars rose, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The two men stood for a moment before passing out of the box. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks like that shriek's coming," Bill said. "God help that poor +darn fool if Pap and Maude get a hold on him." +</P> + +<P> +"He came down with Murray," Kars said pondering. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He ought to have come around with his mam." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Get a hold on him, Bill, when I'm gone. For God's sake get a hold on +him. It's up to you." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE NORTHERN SEAS +</H3> + + +<P> +The mists hung drearily on snow-crowned, distant hilltops. The deadly +gray of the sky suggested laden clouds bearing every threat known to +the elements. They were traveling fast, treading each other's heels, +and overwhelming each other till the gloom banked deeper and deeper. +It was the mockery of an early spring day. It had all the appearance +of the worst depths of winter, except that the intense cold had given +place to a fierce wind of higher temperature. +</P> + +<P> +The seas were running high, and the laden vessel labored heavily as it +passed the sharp teeth of the jaws of the wide sound which marked the +approach to the northern land. +</P> + +<P> +There was no sheltering bar here. The only obstruction to the fierce +onslaught of the North Pacific waters was the almost submerged legion +of cruel rocks which confined the deep water channel. It was a deadly +approach which took years of a ship's captain's life to learn. And +when he had learned it, so far as it was humanly possible, it quickly +taught him how little he knew. Not a season passed but some +unfortunate found for himself a new, uncharted rock. +</P> + +<P> +The land rose up to overwhelming heights on either side, and these vast +barriers narrowed the wind channel till the force of the gale was +trebled. It swept in from the broad ocean with a roar and a boom, +bearing the steamer along, floundering through the racing waters, with +a crushing following sea. +</P> + +<P> +There were twelve hours of this yet ahead of him, and John Dunne paced +his bridge with every faculty alert. He watched the skies. He watched +the breaking waters. He watched the shores on either side of him, as +he might watch the movements of a remorseless adversary about to attack +him. He had navigated this channel for upwards of fifteen years, and +understood to-day how small was his understanding of its virtues, and +how real and complete his fears of its vices. But it was his work to +face it at all times and all seasons, and he accepted the +responsibility with a cheerful optimism and an equal skill. +</P> + +<P> +Once or twice he howled a confidence to his chief officer, who occupied +the bridge with him. There were moments when his lips were at the +speaking tubes, and his hand on the telegraph. There were moments when +he stood with his arms folded over the breast of his thick pea-jacket, +and his half-closed eyes searched the barren shores while he leaned +against the shaking rail. +</P> + +<P> +He had been on the bridge the whole night, and still his bodily vigor +seemed quite unimpaired. His stocky body concealed a power of +endurance which his life had hardened him to. He rarely talked of the +dangers through which he had journeyed on the northern seas. He feared +them too well to desire to recall them. He was wont to say he lived +only in the present. To look ahead would rob him of his nerve. To +gaze back over the manifold emergencies through which he had passed +would only undermine his will. The benefit of his philosophy was +displayed in his habitual success. In consequence he was the commodore +of his company's fleet. +</P> + +<P> +He passed down from his bridge at last. And it was almost with +reluctance. It was breakfast time, and he had been summoned already +three times by an impatient steward. At the door of his cabin he was +met by John Kars who was to be his guest at the meal. These men were +old friends, bound by the common ties of the northland life. They had +made so many journeys together over these turbulent waters. To Kars it +would have been unthinkable to travel under any other sea captain. +</P> + +<P> +"Still watching for those jaws to snap?" said Kars, as he passed into +the little room ahead of his host, and sniffed hungrily at the fragrant +odor of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," he said. "Jaws that's always snapping generally need +watching, I guess. A feller needs the eyes of a spider to get to +windward of the things lying around Blackrock Sound. Say, I guess it +wouldn't come amiss to dump this patch into the devil's dugout fer fool +skippers, who lost their ships through 'souse,' to navigate around in. +It has you guessin' most of the time. And you're generally wrong, +anyway." +</P> + +<P> +The men sat down at the table, and the steward served the coffee. For +a few moments they were busy helping themselves to the grilled kidneys +and bacon. Presently the steward withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +"It's been a better trip than usual this time of year," Kars said. +"It's a pity running into this squall just now." +</P> + +<P> +The seaman raised a pair of twinkling eyes in his guest's direction. +</P> + +<P> +"It's mostly my experience. Providence generally figgers to hand you +things at—inconvenient times. This darn sound's tricky when there +ain't breeze enough to clear your smoke away. It's fierce when it's +blowing. Guess you'll be glad to see your outfit ashore." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es." +</P> + +<P> +"Up country again this year?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +The seaman regarded him enviously. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it must be great only having the weather to beat. A piece of +hard soil under your feet must be bully to work on. That ain't been +mine since I was fourteen. That's over forty years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"There's something to it—sure." Kars sipped his coffee. "But there's +other things," he added, as he set his cup down. +</P> + +<P> +The seaman smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't be Life if there weren't." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"You're shipping arms," John Dunne went on significantly. "Guns an' +things don't signify all smiles an' sunshine. No, I guess we sea folks +got our troubles. It's only they're diff'rent from other folks. You +ain't the only feller shipping arms. We got cases else. An' a big +outfit of cartridges. I was looking into the lading schedule +yesterday. Say, the Yukon ain't makin' war with Alaska?" +</P> + +<P> +The man's curiosity was evident, but he disguised it with a broad smile. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' steady eyes regarded him thoughtfully. Then he, too, smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't reckon the Yukon's worrying to scrap. But folks inside—I +mean right inside beyond Leaping Horse where the p'lice are—need arms. +There's a lot of low type Indians running loose. They aren't to be +despised, except for their manners. Guess the stuff you speak of is +for one of the trading posts?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't say. It's billed to a guy named Murray McTavish at Blackrock +Flat. There's a thousand rifles an' nigh two million rounds of +cartridges. Guess he must be carryin' on a war of his own with them +Injuns. Know the name?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars appeared to think profoundly. +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to me I know the name. Can't just place it for—— Say—I've +got it. He's the partner of the feller the neches murdered up at Fort +Mowbray, on the Snake River. Sure, that explains it. Oh, yes. The +folks up that way are up against it. The neches are pretty darn bad." +He laughed. "Guess he's out for a war of extermination with such an +outfit as that." +</P> + +<P> +"Seems like it." The skipper went on eating for some moments in +silence. His curiosity was satisfied. Nor did Kars attempt to break +the silence. He was thinking—thinking hard. +</P> + +<P> +"It beats me," Dunne went on presently, "you folk who don't need to +live north of 'sixty.' What is it that keeps you chasing around in a +cold that 'ud freeze the vitals of a tin statue?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"You can search me," he said, with a shrug. "Guess it sort of gets in +the blood, though. There's times when I cuss it like you cuss the +waters that hand you your life. Then there's times when I love it +like—like a pup loves offal. You can't figger it out any more than +you can figger out why the sun and moon act foolish chasing each other +around an earth that don't know better than to spend its time buzzing +around on a pivot that don't exist. You can't explain these things any +more than you can explain the reason why no two folks can think the +same about things, except it is their own way of thinking it's the +right way. Nor why it is you mostly get rain when you're needin' sun, +and wind when you're needin' calm, and anyway it's coming from the +wrong quarter. If you guess you're looking for gold, it's a thousand +dollars to a dime you find coal, or drown yourself in a 'gush' of oil. +If you're married, an' you're looking for a son, it's a sure gamble you +get a gal. Most everything in life's just about as crazy as they'll +allow outside a foolish house, and as for life itself, well, it's a +darn nuisance anyway, but one you're mighty glad keeps busy your way." +</P> + +<P> +At that moment, the speaking tube from the bridge emitted a sharp +whistle, and the skipper, with a broad smile on his weather-beaten +face, went to answer it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The clatter of the winches ceased. The creaking of straining hawsers +lessened. The voices of men only continued their hoarse-throated +shoutings. The gangways had been secured in place, and while the crew +were feverishly opening the vessel's hatches the few passengers who had +made the journey under John Dunne's watchful care hustled down the +high-angled gangway to the quay, glad enough to set foot on the +slush-laden land. +</P> + +<P> +The days of the wild rush of gold-mad incompetents were long since +past. The human freight of John Dunne's vessel, with the exception of +John Kars, was commercial. They were mostly men whose whole work was +this new great trade with the north. +</P> + +<P> +Kars was one of the first to land, and he swiftly searched the faces of +the crowd of longshoremen. +</P> + +<P> +It was a desolate quay-side of a disreputable town. But though all +picturesqueness was given over to utility, there was a sense of +homeliness to the traveler after the stormy passage of the North +Pacific. Blackrock crouched under the frowning ramparts of hills which +barred the progress of the waters. It was dwarfed, and rendered even +more desolate, by the sterile snow-laden crags with which it was +crowded. But these first impressions were quickly lost in the life +that strove on every hand. In the familiar clang of the locomotive +bell, and the movement of railroad wagons which were engaged in haulage +for Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' search ended in a smile of greeting, as a tall, lean American +detached himself from the crowd and came towards him. He greeted the +arrival with the easy casualness of the northlander. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you, Chief," he said, shaking hands. "Stuff aboard? +Good," as the other nodded. "Guess the gang'll ship it right away jest +as soon as they haul it out o' the guts of the old tub. You goin' on +up with the mail? She's due to get busy in two hours, if she don't get +colic or some other fool trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Abe Dodds refused to respond to his friend and chief's smile of +greeting. He rarely shed smiles on anything or any one. He was a +mining engineer of unusual gifts, in a country where mining engineers +and flies vied with each other for preponderance. He was a man who +bristled with a steady energy which never seemed to tire, and he had +been in the service of John Kars from the very early days. +</P> + +<P> +Kars indicated the snub-nosed vessel he had just left. +</P> + +<P> +"The stuff's all there," he said. "Nearly fifty tons of it. You need +to hustle it up to Leaping Horse, and on to the camp right away. Guess +we break camp in two weeks." +</P> + +<P> +The man nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. That's all fixed. Anything else?" +</P> + +<P> +His final inquiry was his method of dismissing his employer. But Kars +did not respond. His keen eyes had been searching the crowd. Now they +came back to the plain face of Abe, whose jaws were working busily on +the wreck of the end of a cigar. He lowered his voice to a +confidential tone. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a big outfit of stuff aboard for Murray McTavish, of Fort +Mowbray. Has he an outfit here to haul it? Is he still around Leaping +Horse?" +</P> + +<P> +Abe's eyes widened. He was quite unconcerned at the change of tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," he replied promptly. "Sure he's an outfit here. He's +shipping it up to Leaping Horse by the Yukon Transport—express. He +quit the city last November, an' come along down again a week ago. +Guess he's in the city right now. He's stopping around Adler's Hotel." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes were on the "hauls" of the cargo boat which were already +busy. +</P> + +<P> +"You boys kept to instructions?" he demanded sharply. "No one's wise +to your camp?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"There's not a word of me going around the city?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word." +</P> + +<P> +"The outfit's complete?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. To the last boy. You can break camp the day after this stuff's +hauled and we've packed it." +</P> + +<P> +"Good." Kars sighed as if in relief. "Well, I'll get on. Hustle all +you know. And, say, get a tally of McTavish's outfit. Get their time +schedule. I'll need it. So long." +</P> + +<P> +Kars followed his personal baggage which a quayside porter had taken on +to the grandiosely named mail train. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +John Kars was standing at the curtained window of Dr. Bill's apartment +in the Hoffman Apartment House. His back was turned on the luxuriously +furnished room. For some time the silence had been broken only by the +level tones of the owner of the apartment who was lounging in the +depths of a big rocker adjacent to a table laden with surgical +instruments. He had been telling the detailed story of the +preparations made at the camp some ten miles distant from the city, and +the supervision of whose affairs Kars had left in his hands. As he +ceased speaking Kars turned from his contemplation of the tawdry white +and gold of the Elysian Fields which stood out in full view from the +window of the apartment. +</P> + +<P> +"Now tell me of that boy—Alec," he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +The directness of the challenge had its effect. Bill Brudenell stirred +uneasily in his chair. His shrewd eyes widened with a shade of +trouble. Nor did he answer readily. +</P> + +<P> +"Things are wrong?" Kars' steady eyes searched his friend's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—they're not—good." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah. Tell me." +</P> + +<P> +Kars moved from the window. It almost seemed that all that had passed +was incomparable in interest with his present subject. He seated +himself on the corner of the table which held the surgical instruments. +</P> + +<P> +"No. It's not good. It's—it's darned bad." Bill rose abruptly from +his chair and began to pace the room, his trim shoulders hunched as +though he were suddenly driven to a desire for aggression. "Look here, +John," he cried almost vehemently. "If you or I had had that boy set +in our charge, seeing what we saw that first night, and knowing what +I've heard since, could we have quit this lousy city for months and +left him to his fool play over at Pap's? Not on your life. But it's +what Murray's done. Gee, I could almost think he did it purposely." +</P> + +<P> +Kars pointed at the rocker. There was a curious light in his gray +eyes. It was a half smile. Also it possessed a subtle stirring of +fierceness. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, Bill," he said calmly. "But start right in from—the start." +</P> + +<P> +The man of healing obeyed mechanically, but he chafed at the restraint. +His usual ease had undergone a serious disturbance. There was nothing +calculated to upset him like the disregard of moral obligation. Crime +he understood, folly he accepted as something belonging to human +nature. But the moral "stunt," as he was wont to characterize it, hurt +him badly. Just now he was regarding Murray McTavish with no very +friendly eyes, and he deplored beyond words the doings of the boy who +was Jessie Mowbray's brother. +</P> + +<P> +"The start!" he exploded. "Where <I>can</I> I start? If the start were as +I see it, it 'ud be to tell you that Murray's a callous skunk who don't +care a whoop for the obligations Allan's murder left on his fat +shoulders. But I guess that's not the start as you see it. That boy!" +He sprang from his seat again and Kars made no further attempt to +restrain him. "He's on the road to the devil faster than an express +locomotive could carry him. He's in the hands of 'Chesapeake' Maude, +who's got him by both feet and neck. And he's handing his bank roll +over to Pap, and his gang, with a shovel. He's half soused any old +time after eleven in the morning. And his back teeth are awash by +midnight 'most every day. You can see him muling around the dance +floor till you get sick of the sight of his darn fool smile, and you +wish all the diamonds Maude wears were lost in the deepest smudge fires +of hell. Start? There is no start. But there's a sure finish." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean if he don't quit he'll go right down and out?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill came to a halt directly in front of his friend. His keen eyes +gazed straight into the strong face confronting him. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't mean that. It's worse," he said, with a gravity quite +changed from his recent agitated manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Worse?" Kars' question came sharply. "Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I did all you said that night. I got a holt on him next day at +the Gridiron, where he's stopping. He told me to go to a certain hot +place and mind my own business, which was doping out drugs. I went to +Murray, and he served me little better. He grinned. He always grins. +He threw hot air about a youngster and wild oats. He guessed the kid +would sober up after a fling. They'd figgered on this play. His +mother, and José, and him. They guessed it was best. Then he was +going to get around back and act the man his father was on the trail. +That was his talk. And he grinned—only grinned when I guessed he was +five sorts of darned fool." +</P> + +<P> +Bill paused. It might almost have been that he paused for breath after +the speed at which his words came. Kars waited with deliberate +patience, but his jaws were set hard. +</P> + +<P> +"But now—now?" The doctor passed a hand across his broad forehead and +smoothed his iron gray hair. He turned his eyes thoughtfully upon the +window through which they beheld the white and gold of the Elysian +Fields. "The worst thing's happened. It's in the mouth of every one +in Leaping Horse. It's the scream of every faro joint and 'draw' +table. The fellers on the sidewalk have got the laugh of it. Maude's +got dopey on him. She's plumb stuck on him. The dame Pap's spilt +thousands on has gone back on him for a fool boy she was there to roll. +Things are seething under the surface, and it's the sort of atmosphere +Pap mostly lives in. He's crazy mad. And when Pap's crazy, things are +going to happen. There's just one end coming. Only one end. That +boy's going to get done up, and Pap's to be all in at the doing. Oh, +he'll take no chances. There'll be no shriek. That kid'll peter right +out sudden. And it'll be Pap who knows how." +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's in the city. Have you seen him?" Kars spoke coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw him yesterday noon. I went to Adler's at lunch time to be sure +getting him." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I scared him. Plumb scared him. But it was the same grin. Gee, how +that feller grins." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" Kars persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"He'd do all he knew to get the kid away. But he guessed he'd be up +against it. He guessed Alec had mighty little use for him, and you +can't blame the kid when you think of that grin. But he figgered to do +his best anyway. He cursed the kid for a sucker, and talked of a +mother's broken heart if things happened. But I don't reckon he cares +a cuss anyway. That feller's got one thing in life if I got any sane +notion. It's trade. He hasn't the scruples of a Jew money-lender for +anything else." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm feeling that way—too." +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't feel otherwise." +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't thinking of your yarn, Bill," Kars said quickly. "It's +something else. That feller's shipped in a thousand rifles, and a big +lot of ammunition. I lit on it through John Dunne. What's he want 'em +for? I've been asking myself that ever since. He don't need a +thousand rifles for trade." +</P> + +<P> +It was Bill's turn for inquiry. It came with a promptness that +suggested his estimation of the importance of the news. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Is he going to wipe out the Bell River outfit?" Kars' eyes regarded +his friend steadily. +</P> + +<P> +For some moments no further word was spoken. Each was contemplating +the ruthless purpose of a man who contemplated wiping out a tribe of +savages to suit his own sordid ends. It was almost unbelievable. Yet +a thousand rifles for a small trading post. It was the number which +inspired the doubt. +</P> + +<P> +It was Kars who finally broke the silence. He left his seat on the +table and stood again at the window with his back turned. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess we best leave it at that," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. What are you going to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look in at the Gridiron, and pass the time of day with young Alec." +Kars laughed shortly. Then he turned, and his purpose was shining in +his eyes. "Alec's Jessie's brother—and I've got to save that kid from +himself." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE GRIDIRON +</H3> + + +<P> +Kars was early abroad. He left his apartment on the first floor of the +same apartment house which furnished Bill Brudenell with his less +palatial quarters, and sauntered down the main street in the direction +of the Gridiron. +</P> + +<P> +His mood was by no means a happy one. He realized only too surely that +a man bent upon an errand such as he was stood at something more than a +disadvantage. His life was made up of the study of the life about him. +His understanding was of the cruder side of things. But now, when +action, when simple force of character were his chief assets, he was +called upon, or he had called upon himself, to undertake the difficult +task of making a youth, big, strong, hot-headed, mad with the newly +tasted joy of living, detach himself from his new life. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was he without qualms when he passed the portals of the hotel, +which ranked second only in ill-fame to Pap Shaunbaum's. +</P> + +<P> +If the Gridiron possessed less ill-fame than its contemporary it was +not because its proprietor was any less a "hold-up" than Pap. It was +simply that his methods were governed by a certain circumspection. He +cloaked his misdoings under a display of earnest endeavor in the better +direction. For instance, every room displayed a printed set of +regulations against anything and everything calculated to offend the +customer of moral scruples—if such an one could be discovered in +Leaping Horse. Dan McCrae enforced just as many of these regulations +as suited him. And, somehow, for all he had drawn them up himself, +none of them ever seemed to suit him. But they had their effect on his +business. It became the fashion of the men of greater substance to +make it a headquarters. And it was his boast that more wealth passed +in and out of his doors than those of any house in Leaping Horse, +except the bank. +</P> + +<P> +Dan only desired such custom. He possessed a hundred and one pleasant +wiles for the loosening of the bank rolls of such custom. No man ever +left his establishment after a brief stay without considerably less +bulging pockets. +</P> + +<P> +When Dan espied the entrance of John Kars from behind the glass +partition, which divided his office from the elaborate entrance hall, +he lost no time in offering a personal welcome. Kars was his greatest +failure in Leaping Horse, just as Pap had had to admit defeat. That +these two men had failed to attract to their carefully baited traps the +richest man in the country, a man unmarried, too, a man whose home +possessed no other attraction than that of a well-furnished apartment, +was a disaster too great for outward lamentation. +</P> + +<P> +But neither despaired, even after years of failure. Nor did they ever +lose an opportunity. It was an opportunity at this moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you back, Mr. Kars." The small, smiling, dangerous Dan +was the picture of frank delight. "Leaping Horse misses her big men. +Had a pleasant vacation?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars had no illusions. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't call a business trip a vacation," he said with a smile. "I +don't reckon the North Pacific in winter comes under that heading +either. Say, there's a boy stopping around here. Alexander Mowbray. +Is he in the hotel?" +</P> + +<P> +Dan cocked a sharp eye. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll send a boy along," he said, pressing a bell. A sharp word to the +youth who answered it and he turned again to the visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess you know most of these up-country folk," he said. "There's +things moving inside. We're getting spenders in, quite a little. The +city's asking questions. Mr. Mowbray's been here all winter, and he +seems to think dollars don't cut ice beside a good time. I figger +there's going to be a fifty per cent raise in the number of outfits +making inside this season. There's a big talk of things. Well, it +mostly finds its way into this city, so we can't kick any." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you folks haven't any kick coming," Kars said amiably. This man's +inquiries made no impression on him. It was the sort of thing he was +accustomed to wherever he went in Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment a bell rang in the office, and Kars heard his name +repeated by the 'phone operator. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Mr. Mowbray's in," observed Dan, turning back to the office. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mowbray will be glad if you'll step right up, Mr. Kars." The +'phone clerk had emerged from his retreat. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. What number?" +</P> + +<P> +"Three hundred and one. Third floor, Mr. Kars," replied the clerk, +with that love of the personal peculiar to his class. Then followed a +hectoring command, "Elevator! Lively!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars stepped into the elevator and was "expressed" to the third floor. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments later he was looking into the depressed eyes of a youth +he had only known as the buoyant, headstrong, north-bred son of Allan +Mowbray. +</P> + +<P> +The change wrought in one brief winter was greater than Kars had +feared. Dissipation was in every line of the half-dressed youth's +handsome face, and, as Kars looked into it, a great indignation mingled +with his pity. But his indignation was against the trader who had left +the youth to his own foolish devices in a city whose morals might well +have shamed an aboriginal. Nor was his pity alone for the boy. His +memory had gone back to the splendid dead. It had also flown to the +two loving women whose eyes must have rained heart-breaking tears at +the picture he was gazing upon. +</P> + +<P> +The boy thing out a hand, and a smile lit his tired features for a +moment as he welcomed the man who had always been something of a hero +to him. He had hastily slipped on his trousers and thrust his feet +into shoes. His pajama jacket was open, revealing the naked flesh +underneath. Nor could Kars help but admire the physique now being so +rapidly prostituted. +</P> + +<P> +"It's bully of you looking me up," Alec said, with as much cordiality +as an aching head would permit. +</P> + +<P> +Then he laughed shamefacedly. "Guess I'm dopey this morning. I sat in +at 'draw' last night, and collected quite a bunch of money. I didn't +feel like quitting early." +</P> + +<P> +Kars took up a position on the tumbled bed. His quick eyes were busy +with the elaborate room. He priced it heavily in his mind. Nor did he +miss the cocktail tray at the bedside, and the litter of clothes, +clothes which must have been bought in Leaping Horse, scattered +carelessly about. +</P> + +<P> +"It don't do quitting when luck's running," he said, without a shade of +censure. "A feller needs to call the limit—till it turns. 'Draw's' +quite a game." +</P> + +<P> +Alec had had doubts when John Kars' name had come up to him. He had +only been partially aware of them. It had been the working of a +consciousness of the life he was living, and of the clean living nature +of his visitor. But the big man's words dispelled the last shadow of +doubt, and he went on freely. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," he cried, enthusiasm suddenly stirring him, "I'm only just +getting wise to the things I missed all these years. It gets me beat +to death how a feller like you, who could come near buying the whole +blamed city, can trail around the country half your time and the other +dope around on a rough sea with the wind blowing clear through your +vitals." +</P> + +<P> +"It's cleaner air—both ways." +</P> + +<P> +The boy flung himself on the bed with his back against the foot-rail. +He reached out and pressed the bell. +</P> + +<P> +"Have a cocktail?" he said. "No?" as Kars shook his head. "Well, I +got to, anyway. That's the only kick I got coming to the mornings. +Gee, a feller gets a thirst. But who'd give a whoop for clean air? +I've had so much all my life," he went on, with a laugh. "I'm lookin' +for something with snap to it." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Kars' steady eyes never changed their smiling expression. +"Things with snap are good for—a while." +</P> + +<P> +"'A while'? I want 'em all the time. Guess I owe Murray a big lot. +It was him who fixed mother so she'd stake me, and let me git around. +I didn't always figger Murray had use for me. But he's acted fine, and +I guess I—say, I ran short of money a while back, and when he came +along down he handed me a bunch out of his own dip, and stood good for +a few odd debts! Murray! Get a line on it. Can you beat it? And +Murray figgers more on dollars than any feller I know." +</P> + +<P> +"You never know your friends till you get a gun-hole in your stomach," +Kars laughed. "Murray's more of a sport than you guessed. He +certainly don't unroll easy." +</P> + +<P> +The boy's face was alight with good feeling. He sat up eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just how I thought," he cried. "I——" A knock at the door +was followed by the entrance of a bell-boy with the cocktail. Alec +seized it, and drank thirstily. +</P> + +<P> +Kars looked on. He gave no sign. +</P> + +<P> +"That feller knows his job," he said, as the boy withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +Alec laughed. He was feeling in better case already. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure he does. A single push on that bell means one cocktail. He +generally makes the trip twice in the morning. But say, talking of +Murray, one of these days I'm going to make a big talk with him and +just tell him what I feel 'bout things. I've got to tell him I've just +bin a blamed young fool and didn't understand the sort of man he was." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you've had trouble with him—again?" Kars' question had a sudden +sharpening in it. He was thinking of what Bill had told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thing. Say, we haven't had a crooked word since we quit the old +Fort. He's a diff'rent guy when he gets away from his—store. No, +sir, Murray's wise. He guesses I need to see and do things. And he's +helped me all he knows. And he showed me around some dandy places +before I got wise." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed boisterously, and his laugh drove straight to the heart of +the man who heard it. +</P> + +<P> +Kars was no moralist, but he knew danger when he saw it, moral or +physical. The terrible danger into which this youth, this foolish +brother of Jessie, had been plunged by Murray McTavish stirred him as +he had not been stirred for years. Women, gaming, drink. This simple, +weak, splendid youth. Leaping Horse, the cesspool of the earth. A +mental shudder passed through him. But the acutest thought of the +moment was of the actions of Murray McTavish. Why had he shown this +boy "places"? Why had he financed him privately, and not left it to +Ailsa Mowbray? Why, why, had he lied to Bill on the subject of a +quarrel with Alec? +</P> + +<P> +But these things, these thoughts found no outward expression. He had +his purpose to achieve. +</P> + +<P> +He nodded reflectively. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's got his ways," he said. "Guess we most have. Murray's ways +mayn't always be our ways. They mayn't ever be. But that don't say a +thing against 'em." He smiled. It was the patient smile of a man who +is entirely master of himself. "Then Murray's got a kick coming to +him, too. He's a queer figger, and he knows it and hates it. A thing +like that's calculated to sour a feller some. I mean his ways." +</P> + +<P> +Alec's agreement came with a smiling nod. He became expansive. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he said. "You know Murray's got no women-folk around him. And +I guess a feller's not alive till he's got women-folk around him." He +drew a deep breath. "Gee," he cried, in a sort of ecstasy. "I know +those things—now." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Kars was watching the play of emotion in the boy's eyes. He was +following every thought passing behind them, measuring those things +which might militate against his object. +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you a thing now I'd have hated to remember a while back," +Alec went on. "Say, it used to set me plumb crazy thinking of it. +There were times I could have shot Murray down in his tracks for it. +It was Jessie. He was just crazy to marry her. I know," he nodded +sapiently. "He never said a word. Jess knew, too, and she never said +a word. She hates him. She hates him—that way—worse than she hates +the Bell River neches. I was glad then. But it ain't that way now. +We were both wrong. Maybe I'll make a talk with her one day. I owe +Murray more than the dollars he handed me." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Not by the movement of an eyelid did Kars betray his feelings. But a +fierce passion was tingling in every nerve as the youth went on talking. +</P> + +<P> +"It's queer how folks get narrowed down living in a bum layout like the +Fort." He smiled in a self-satisfied way. "I used to think José a +wise guy one time. There's heaps of things you can't see right in a +layout like that. I reckon Jessie ought to know Murray better. It's +up to me. Don't you guess that way, too?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars smilingly shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't do butting in," he said. "Y'see folks know best how they +need to act. You're feeling that way—now. No feller can think right +for others. Guess folks' eyes don't see the same. Maybe it's to do +with the color," he smiled. "When a man and a woman get thinking +things, there's no room for other folks." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' manner had a profound effect. He was talking as though dealing +with a man of wide worldly knowledge, and the youth was more than +flattered. He accepted the situation and the suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you're right," he said at once. "I felt I'd like to hand him a +turn—that's all." +</P> + +<P> +Kars shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't matter a thing," he said, with calculated purpose. "It's +just my notion." Then he laughed. "But I didn't get around to worry +with Murray McTavish. It's better than that." +</P> + +<P> +He rose abruptly from the bed and moved across to the window. Alec was +in the act of lighting a cigarette. The match burned itself out in his +fingers, and the cigarette remained unlighted. His eyes were on his +visitor with sudden expectation. Finally he broke into an uneasy laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray isn't the only ice on the river," he said weakly. +</P> + +<P> +Kars turned about. +</P> + +<P> +"Nor is he the only gold you'll maybe locate around. Do you feel like +handling—other? Are you looking to make a big bunch of dollars? Do +you need a stake that's going to hand you all the things you've dreamed +about? You guess I'm a rich man. Folks figger I'm the richest man +north of 'sixty.' Maybe I am. Well, if you guess you'd like to be the +same way, it's up to you." +</P> + +<P> +Alec was sitting up. The effects of his overnight debauch had been +completely flung aside. His eyes, so like his father's, were wide, and +his handsome face was alive with a sudden excitement. He flung his +cigarette aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you're—fooling," he breathed incredulously. +</P> + +<P> +Kars shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I quit that years," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't get you," Alec went on at last, in a sort of desperate +helplessness. +</P> + +<P> +Kars dropped on to the bed again and laughed in his pleasant fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure you don't. But do you feel like it? Are you ready to take a +chance—with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"By Gee—yes! If there's a stake at the end of it." +</P> + +<P> +"The stake's there, sure. But—but it means quitting Leaping Horse +right away. It means hitting the old trail you curse. It means +staking your life for all it's worth. It means using all that that big +man, your father, handed you in life. It means getting out on God's +earth, and telling the world right here you're a man, and a mighty big +man, too. It means all that, and," he added with a smile that was +unreadable, "a whole heap more." +</P> + +<P> +Something of the excitement had died out of Alec's face. A shade of +disappointment clouded his eyes. He reached out for another cigarette. +Kars watched the signs. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he questioned sharply. "There's millions of dollars in this +for you. I'll stake my word on it it's a cinch—or death. I've +handled the strike, and I know it's all I figger. I came along to hand +you this proposition. And it's one I wouldn't hand to another soul +living. I'm handing it to you because you're your father's son, +because I need a feller whose whole training leaves him with the north +trail beaten. It's up to you right here—and now." +</P> + +<P> +The youngster smoked on in silence. Kars watched the battle going on +behind his averted eyes. He knew what he was up against. He was +struggling to save this boy against the overwhelming forces of extreme +youth and weakness. The whole of his effort was supported by the +barest thread. Would that thread hold? +</P> + +<P> +Again came that nervous movement as Alec flung away his half-smoked +cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"When should we need to start?" he demanded almost brusquely. +</P> + +<P> +"Two weeks from now." +</P> + +<P> +The egoism of the boy left him almost unappreciative of what this man +was offering him. Kars had subtly flattered his vanity. He had done +it purposely. He had left the youngster with the feeling that he was +being asked a favor. There was relief in the tone of the reply. And +complaint followed it up. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not so bad. You said 'right away.'" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes were regarding him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"I call that right away. Well? I'm not handing you any more of it +till you—accept," he added. +</P> + +<P> +Alec suddenly sprang from the bed. He paced the room with long nervous +strides. He felt that never in his life had he faced such a crisis. +Kars simply looked on. +</P> + +<P> +At last the boy spoke something of his thought aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"By Gee! I can't refuse it. It's—it's too big. Two weeks. She'll +be crazy about it. She'll—by gad, I must do it. I can——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off abruptly. He came to the foot-rail of the bed. He stood +with his great hands clenching it firmly, as though for support. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go, Kars," he cried. "I'll go! And it's just great of you. +I—I—it was kind of hard. There's things——" +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he said, with a smile. "But—she'll wait for you—if she's the +woman you guess. It's only a year. But say, you'll need to sign a +bond. A bond of secrecy, and—good faith. There's no quitting—once +it's signed." +</P> + +<P> +The big man's eyes shone squarely into the boy's. And something of the +dead father looked back at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Curse it, I'll sign," Alec cried with sudden force. "I'll sign +anything. Millions of dollars! I'll sign right away, and I'll—play +as you'd have me." +</P> + +<P> +The boy passed a hand through his hair. His decision had cost him +dearly. But he had taken it. +</P> + +<P> +"Good." Kars rose from the bed. "Get dressed, Alec," he said kindly. +"You'll sign that bond before you eat. After that I'll hand you all +the talk you need. Call round at my apartment when you're fixed." +</P> + +<P> +As John Kars passed out of the Gridiron one thought alone occupied him. +Murray McTavish had lied. He had lied deliberately to Bill Brudenell. +He had made no attempt to save the boy from the mire into which he had +helped to fling him. On the contrary, he had thrust him deeper and +deeper into it. Why? What—what was the meaning of it all? Where +were things heading? What purpose lay behind the man's doings? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN +</H3> + + +<P> +The prompt action of John Kars looked as if it would achieve the +desired result. His plan had been without any depth of subtlety. It +was characteristic of the man, in whom energy and action served him in +all crises. Alec had to be saved. The boy was standing at the brink +of a pit of moral destruction. He must be dragged back. But physical +force would be useless, for, in that direction, there was little if any +advantage on the side of the man who designed to save him. Kars had +won through the opportunities that were his. And he sat pondering his +success, and dreaming of the sweet gray eyes which had inspired his +effort, when Alec reached his apartment in fulfilment of his promise. +</P> + +<P> +It was a happy interview. It was far happier than Alec could have +believed possible, in view of his passionate regret at abandoning +Leaping Horse, and the woman, whose tremendous attractions had caught +his unsophisticated heart in her silken toils, for something +approaching a year. But then Kars was using all the strength of a +powerful, infectious personality in his effort. +</P> + +<P> +He listened to the boy's story of his love and regret with sympathy and +apparent understanding. He encouraged him wherever he sought +encouragement. He had a pleasantry of happy expression wherever it was +needed. In a word he played to the last degree upon a nature as weak +as it was simply honest. +</P> + +<P> +The net result was the final departure of Alec in almost buoyant mood +at the prospects opening out before him, and bearing in his pocket the +signed agreement, whereby, at the price of absolute secrecy, and a +year's supreme effort, he was to achieve everything he needed to lay at +the feet of a woman he believed to be the most perfect creature on +God's beautiful earth. +</P> + +<P> +Kars watched him go not without some misgivings, and his fears were +tritely expressed to Bill Brudenell, who joined him a few minutes later. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one thing to unfix the things I've stuck together," he +said. "It's the—woman." +</P> + +<P> +And Bill's agreement added to his fears of the moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. But you haven't figgered on—Pap." +</P> + +<P> +"Pap?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"There's fourteen days. Pap's crazy mad about Maude and the boy. The +boy won't figger to quit things for fourteen days. If I'm wise he'll +boost all he needs into them. Well—there's Pap." +</P> + +<P> +Bill was looking on with both eyes wide open, as was his way. He had +put into a few words all he saw. And Kars beheld in perfect nakedness +the dangers to his plans. +</P> + +<P> +"We must get busy," was all he said, but there was a look of doubt in +his usually confident eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Maude lived in an elaborate house farther down the main street, and +Alec Mowbray was on his way thither. He had kept from Kars the fact +that his midday meal was to be taken with the woman who had now frankly +abandoned herself to an absorbing passion for the handsome youth from +the wilderness "inside." +</P> + +<P> +It was no unusual episode in the career of a woman of her class. On +the contrary, it was perhaps the commonest exhibition of her peculiar +disposition. Hundreds of such women, thousands, have flung aside +everything they have schemed and striven for, and finally achieved as +the price of all a woman holds sacred, for the sake of a sudden, +unbridled passion she is powerless to control. Perhaps "Chesapeake" +Maude understood her risks in a city of lawlessness, and in flinging +aside the protection of such a man as Pap Shaunbaum. Perhaps she did +not. But those who looked on, and they were a whole people of a city, +waited breathless and pulsating for the ensuing acts of what they +regarded as a human <I>comedy</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Alec, his slim, powerful young body clad in the orthodox garb of this +northern city, swung along down the slush-laden street, his thoughts +busy preparing his argument for the persuading of the woman who had +become the sun and centre of his life. He knew his difficulties, he +knew his own regrets. But the advantages both to her, and to him, +which Kars had cleverly pointed out, outweighed both. His mind was set +on persuading her. Nor did he question for a moment that for her, as +for him, the bond between them was an enduring love that would always +be theirs, and would adapt itself to their mutual advantage. The +northern wilderness was deeply bred in him. +</P> + +<P> +His way took him past Adler's Hotel, and, in a lucid moment, he +remembered that Murray was stopping there. An impulse made him pause +and look at his watch. It yet wanted half an hour to his appointment. +Yes, he would see if Murray were in. He must tell him of his purpose +to leave the city a while. It would be necessary to send word to his +mother, too. +</P> + +<P> +Murray was in. He was just contemplating food when he received Alec's +message. He sent down word for him to come up to his room, and waited. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish was very much the same man of methodical business here +in Leaping Horse as the Fort knew him. The attractions of the city +left him quite untouched. His method of life seemed to undergo no +variation. A single purpose dominated him at all times. But that +purpose, whatever it might be, was his own. +</P> + +<P> +His room was by no means extravagant, such as was the room Alec +occupied at the Gridiron. Adler's Hotel boasted nothing of the +extravagance of either of the two leading hotels. But it was ample for +Murray's requirements. The usual bedroom furnishing was augmented by a +capacious writing desk, which was more or less usual throughout the +hotel. +</P> + +<P> +He was at his desk now, and his bulk filled the armchair to the limits +of its capacity. He pushed aside the work he had been engaged upon, +turned away from the desk, and awaited the arrival of his visitor. +</P> + +<P> +There was no smile in his eyes now, nor, which was more unusual, was +there any smile upon his gross features. His whole pose was +contemplative, and his dark, burning eyes shone deeply. +</P> + +<P> +But it was a different man who greeted the youth as the door was thrust +open. The smiling face was beaming welcome, and Murray gripped the +outstretched hand with a cordiality that was not intended to be +mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit right down, boy," he said. "You're around in time to eat with me. +But I'll chase up a cocktail." +</P> + +<P> +But Alec stayed him. +</P> + +<P> +"I just can't stay, Murray," he said hastily. "And I'm not needing a +cocktail just now. I was passing, and I thought I'd hand you the thing +I got in my mind, and get you to pass word on to my mother and Jessie." +</P> + +<P> +He took the proffered chair facing the window. Murray had resumed his +seat at the desk, which left him in the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, just anything you say," Murray returned heartily. "The plans?" +</P> + +<P> +The contrast between them left the trader overwhelmed. Alec, so tall, +so clean-cut and athletic of build. His handsome face so classically +molded. His fair hair the sort that any woman might rave over. +Murray, insignificant, except in bulk. But for his curious dark eyes +he must inevitably have been passed over without a second thought. +</P> + +<P> +Alec drew up his long legs in a movement that suggested unease. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I can't tell you a thing worth hearing," he said, remembering his +bond. "It's just I'm quitting Leaping Horse in two weeks. I'm +quitting it a year, maybe." Then he added with a smile of greater +confidence, "I've hit a big play. Maybe it's going to hand me a pile. +Guess I'm looking for a big pile." Then he added with a cordial, happy +laugh, "Same as you." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's smile deepened if anything. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, boy, that's great," he exclaimed. "That's the greatest news +ever. Guess you couldn't have handed me anything I like better. As +for your mother, she'll be jumping. She wasn't easy to fix, letting +you get around here. You're going to make good. I'll hand her that +right away. I'm quitting. I'm getting back to the Fort in a few days. +That's bully news. Say, you're quitting in two weeks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. Two weeks." +</P> + +<P> +Alec felt at ease again. He further appreciated Murray in that he did +not press any inquisition. +</P> + +<P> +They talked on for a few minutes on the messages Alec wished to convey +to his mother, and finally the boy rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +It was then that Murray changed from his attitude of delight to one of +deep gravity, which did not succeed in entirely obliterating his smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I was going to look you up if you hadn't happened along," he said +seriously. "I was talking to Wiseman last night. You know Wiseman, of +the Low Grade Hills Mine, out West? He's pretty tough. Josh Wiseman's +a feller I haven't a heap of use for, but he's worth a big roll, and +he's in with all the 'smarts' of Elysian Fields. Say, don't jump, or +get hot at what I'm going to say. I just want to put you wise." +</P> + +<P> +"Get right ahead," Alec said easily. He felt that his new relations +with Murray left him free to listen to anything he had to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's about Pap," Murray went on, deliberately. "And your news +about quitting's made me glad. Wiseman was half soused, but he made a +point of rounding me up. He wanted to hand me a notion he'd got in his +half-baked head. He said two 'gun-men' had come into the city, and +they'd come from 'Frisco because Pap had sent for them. He saw them +yesterday and recognized them both. Josh hails from 'Frisco, you see. +He handed his yarn to me to hand on to you. Get me? I don't know how +much there is to it. I can't figger if you need to worry any. But +Josh is a wise guy, as well as tough. Anyway, I'm glad you're +quitting." +</P> + +<P> +He held out a hand in warm cordiality, and Alec wrung it without a +shadow of concern. He laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why say, that's fine," he cried, his eyes shining recklessly. "If it +wasn't for that darn pile I'd stop right around here. If Pap gets +busy, why, there's going to be some play. I don't give a whoop for all +the Paps in creation. Nor for his 'gunmen' either." +</P> + +<P> +He was gone, and Murray was standing at his window gazing upon +surroundings of squalid shacks, the tattered fringe of the main street. +But he was not looking at these things. His thought was upon others +that had nothing to do with the mire of civilization in which he stood. +But he gave no sign, except that all his smile was swallowed up by the +fierce fires burning deep down in his dark eyes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The dance hall revel at the Elysian Fields was in full swing. The +garish brilliancy of the scene was in fierce contrast with the night +which strove to hide the meanness prevailing beyond Pap Shaunbaum's +painted portals. The filthy street, the depth of slush, melting under +a driving rain, which was at times a partial sleet. The bleak, biting +wind, and the heavy pall of racing clouds. Then the huddled figures +moving to and fro. Nor were they by any means all seeking the +pleasures their money could buy. The "down-and-outs" shuffled through +the uncharitable city day and night, in rain, or sunshine, or snow. +But at night they resembled nothing so much as the hungry coyotes of +the open, seeking for that wherewith to fill their empty bellies. The +knowledge of these things only made the scenes of wanton luxury and +vice under the glare of light the more offensive. +</P> + +<P> +It was the third night of Alec Mowbray's last two weeks in Leaping +Horse. How he had fared in his settlement of affairs with the woman +who had taken possession of his moral being was not much concern of any +one but himself. Neither Kars nor Bill Brudenell had heard of any +contemplated change in his plans. They had not heard from him at all. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was this a matter for their great concern. Their concern was Pap +Shaunbaum and the passing of the days of waiting while their outfit was +being prepared at the camp ten miles distant from the city, for their +invasion of Bell River. They were watching out for the shadow of +possible disaster before the youth could be got away. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had verified the last detail of the situation in so far as the +proprietor of the Elysian Fields was concerned. Nor was he left with +any illusions. Pap had no intention of sitting down under this +terrible public and private hurt a boy from the "inside" had inflicted +upon him. The stories abroad were lurid in detail. It was said that +the storm which had raged in the final scene between Pap and his +mistress, when she quit the shelter he had provided for her for good, +had been terrible indeed. It was said he had threatened her life in a +moment of passion. It was said she had dared him to his face. It was +also said that he, the great "gunman," Pap, had groveled at her feet +like any callow school-youth. These things were open gossip, and each +repetition of the tales in circulation gained in elaboration of detail, +till all sorts of wild extravagances were accepted as facts. +</P> + +<P> +But Kars and Bill accepted these things at a calm valuation. The side +of the affair that they did not treat lightly was the certainty that +Pap would not sit down under the injury. They knew him. They knew his +record too well. Whatever jeopardy the woman stood in they were +certain of the danger to young Alec. Of this the stories going about +were precise and illuminating. Jack Beal, the managing director of the +Yukon Amalgam Corporation, and a great friend of John Kars, had spoken +with a certainty which carried deep conviction, coining from a man who +was one of the most important commercial magnates of the city. +</P> + +<P> +"Pap'll kill him sure," he said, in a manner of absolute conviction. +"Maybe he won't hand him the dose himself. That's not his way these +days. But the boy'll get his physic, and his folks best get busy on +his epitaph right away." +</P> + +<P> +The position was more than difficult. It was well-nigh impossible. +None knew better than Kars how little there was to be done. They could +wait and watch. That seemed to be about all. Warning would be +useless. It would be worse. The probable result of warning would be +to drive the hothead to some dire act of foolishness. Even to an open +challenge of the inscrutable Pap. Kars and Bill were agreed they dared +risk no such calamity. There were the police in Leaping Horse. But +the Mounted Police were equally powerless, until some breach was +actually committed. +</P> + +<P> +The interim of waiting was long. To Kars, those remaining days before +he could get Alec away were perhaps the longest and most anxious of his +life. For all the sweet eyes of Jessie were urging him on behalf of +her foolish brother, he felt utterly helpless. +</P> + +<P> +But neither he nor Bill remained idle. Their watch, their secret watch +over their charge, was prosecuted indefatigably. Every night saw them +onlookers of the scene on the dance-floor of the Elysian Fields. And +their vantage ground was the remote interior of one of the boxes. +Their purpose was simple. It was a certainty in their minds that Pap +would seek a public vengeance. Nor could he take it better than in his +own dance hall where Maude and Alec flouted him every night. Thus, if +their expectations were fulfilled, they would be on the spot to succor. +A watchful eye might even avert disaster. +</P> + +<P> +It was the third night of their watch. Nor was their vigil without +interest beyond its object. Bill, who knew by sight every frequenter +of the place, spent his time searching for newcomers. But newcomers +were scarce at this season of the year. The arrivals had not yet begun +from Seattle, and the "inside" was already claiming those who belonged +to it. Kars devoted himself to a distant watch on Pap Shaunbaum. +However the man's vengeance was to come, he felt that he must discover +some sign in him of its imminence. +</P> + +<P> +Pap was at his post amongst the crowd at the bar. His dark face hid +every emotion behind a perfect mask. He talked and smiled with his +customers, while his quick eyes kept sharp watch on the dancers. But +never once did he display any undue interest in the tall couple whose +very presence in his hall must have maddened him to a murderous pitch. +</P> + +<P> +The clatter of the bar was lost under the joyous strains of the +orchestra. Its pleasant quality drew forth frequent applause from the +light-hearted crowd. Many were there who had no thought at all for +that which they regarded as a <I>comedy</I>. Others again, like the men in +the box, watched every move, every shade of expression which passed +across the face of the Jewish proprietor. None knew for certain. But +all guessed. And the guess of everybody was of a dénouement which +would serve the city with a topic of interest for at least a year. +</P> + +<P> +"It's thinner to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Bill spoke from the shadow of his curtain. +</P> + +<P> +"The gang?" Kars did not withdraw his gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. There's just one guy I don't know. But he don't look like +cutting any ice. He's half soused anyhow, with four bottles of wine on +the table between him and his dame. When he's through I don't think +he'll know the Elysian Fields from a steam thresher. That blond dame +of his looks like rolling him for his 'poke' without a worry. He'll +hit the trail for his claim to-morrow without the color of a dime." +</P> + +<P> +"Which is he?" Kars demanded, with a certain interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, right there by that table under the balcony. See that dude with +the greased head, and the five dollar nosegay in his coat. There, that +one with Sadie Long and the 'Princess.' Get the Princess with the +cream bow and her hair trailing same as it did when she was a child +forty years ago. Next that outfit." +</P> + +<P> +There was deep disgust in the doctor's tones, but there was something +like pity in his half-humorous eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"He hasn't even cleaned himself," he went on. "Looks like he's just +quit the drift bottom of a hundred foot shaft, and come right in full +of pay dirt all over him. Get his outfit. If you ran his pants +through a sluice-box you'd get an elegant 'color.' Guess even Pap +won't stand for him if he gets his eyes around his way." +</P> + +<P> +Kars offered no comment, but he was studying the half-drunken miner +closely. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment the orchestra struck up again. It was a two step, and +for once Alec and the beautiful Maude failed to make an appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the—kid?" said Kars sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Sitting around, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +Bill craned carefully. Then he sat back. +</P> + +<P> +"See him?" demanded Kars. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. They're together. A bottle of wine's keeping them busy." +</P> + +<P> +A look of impatience flashed into the eyes of Kars. His rugged face +darkened. +</P> + +<P> +"It's swinish!" he cried. "It's near getting my patience all out. +Wine. Wine and women. What devil threw his spell over the boy's +mother letting him quit her apron strings——" +</P> + +<P> +"Murray, I guess," interjected Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray! Yes!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars relapsed into silence again. Nor did either of them speak again +till the music ceased. A vaudeville turn followed. A disgustingly +clad, bewigged soubrette murdered a rag time ditty in a rasping +soprano, displaying enough gold in her teeth to "salt" a barren claim. +No one gave her heed. The lilt of the orchestra elicited a fragmentary +chorus from the audience. For the rest the people pursued the +prescribed purpose of these intervals in the dance. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was regarding the stranger from the "inside." +</P> + +<P> +"He's not getting noisy drunk," he said. "Seems dopey. Guess she'll +hustle him off in a while." +</P> + +<P> +"You guess he's soused?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' question startled his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'you make it then?" +</P> + +<P> +"He hasn't taken a drink since you pointed him out. Nor has his dame." +</P> + +<P> +Both men continued to watch the mud-stained creature. Nor was he +particularly prepossessing, apart from his general uncleanness. His +shock of uncombed, dark hair grew low on his forehead. His dark eyes +were narrow. There was something artificial in his lounging attitude, +and the manner in which he was pawing the woman with him. +</P> + +<P> +"You guess he's acting drunk?" There was concern in Bill's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't say for sure." +</P> + +<P> +The orchestra had started a waltz, and the new dance seemed to claim +all the dancers. Alec and Maude were one of the first couples to +appear. But the onlookers were watching the stranger. He had roused +up, and was talking to his woman. A few moments later they emerged +from their table to join the dancers. +</P> + +<P> +"Going to dance," Bill commented. "He sure looks soused." +</P> + +<P> +The man was swaying about as he moved. Kars' searching gaze missed +nothing. The couple began to dance. And for all the man's +unsteadiness it was clear he was a good, if reckless, dancer. The +sober gait of the other dancers, however, seemed unsuited to his taste, +and he began to sweep through the crowd with long racing strides which +his woman could scarcely keep pace with. +</P> + +<P> +Kars stood up. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll get thrown out," said Bill. "Pap won't stand for that play. +He'll tear up the floor with his nailed boots." +</P> + +<P> +The man had swept round the hall, and he and his partner were lost +under the balcony beneath the box in which the "onlookers" were sitting. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment a cry came up from beneath them in a woman's voice. +Another second and a chorus of men's angry voices almost drowned the +music. The men in the orchestra were craning, and broad smiles lit +some of their faces. Other dancers had come to a halt. They, too, +were gazing with varying expressions of inquiry and curiosity, but none +with any display of alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"He's boosted into some one," said Bill. +</P> + +<P> +A babel of voices came up from below. They were deep with fierce +protest. The trouble was gaining in seriousness. Kars leaned out of +the box. He could see nothing of what was going on. He abruptly drew +back, and turned to his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Say——" +</P> + +<P> +But his words remained unuttered. He was interrupted by a violent +shout from below. +</P> + +<P> +"You son-of-a——!" +</P> + +<P> +Bill's hand clutched at Kars' muscular arm. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the kid! Quick! Come on!" +</P> + +<P> +They started for the door of the box. But, even as the doctor gripped +and turned the handle, the sequel to such an epithet in a place like +Leaping Horse came. Two shots rang out. Then two more followed on the +instant. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment every light in the place was put out and pandemonium +reigned. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DR. BILL INVESTIGATES +</H3> + + +<P> +All that had been feared by the two men in the box had come to pass. +It had come with a swiftness, a sureness incomparable. It had come +with a mercilessness which those who knew him regarded as only to be +expected in a man of Pap Shaunbaum's record. +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed to an atmosphere very little removed from the lawless, the +panic and pandemonium that reigned in the dark was hardly to have been +expected on the part of the frequenters of the Elysian Fields. But it +was the sudden blacking out of the scene which had wrought on the +nerves. It was the doubt, the fear of where the next shots might come, +which sent men and women, shrieking and shouting, stampeding for the +doors which led to the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +Never had the dance hall at the Elysian Fields so quickly cleared of +its revelers. The crush was terrible. Women fell and were trampled +under foot. It was only their men who managed to save them from +serious disaster. Fortunately the light in the hotel beyond the doors +became a beacon, and, in minutes only, the human tide, bedraggled and +bruised, poured out from the darkness of disaster to the glad light +which helped to restore confidence and a burning curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +But curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for that night at least. The +doors were slammed in the faces of those who sought to return, and the +locks were turned, and the bolts were shot upon them. The excited +crowd was left to melt away as it chose, or stimulate its shaking +nerves at the various bars open to it. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile John Kars and Bill Brudenell fumbled their way to the floor +below. The uncertainty, the possible danger, concerned them in nowise. +Alec was in the shooting. They might yet be in time to save him. This +thought sent them plunging through the darkness regardless of +everything but their objective. +</P> + +<P> +As they reached the floor they heard the sharp tones of Pap echoing +through the darkened hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Fasten every darn door," he cried. "Don't let any of those guys get +back in. Guess the p'lice'll be along right away. Turn up the lights." +</P> + +<P> +The promptness with which his orders were obeyed displayed something of +the man. It displayed something more to the two hurrying men. It +suggested to both their minds that the whole thing had been prepared +for. Perhaps even the employees of this man were concerned in their +chief's plot. +</P> + +<P> +As the full light blazed out again it revealed the bartenders still +behind the bar. It showed two men at the main doors, and another at +each of the other entrances. Furthermore, it revealed the drop curtain +lowered on the stage, and the orchestra men peering questioningly, and +not without fearful glances, over the rail which barred them from the +polished dance floor. +</P> + +<P> +Besides these things Pap Shaunbaum was hurrying across the hall. His +mask-like face displayed no sign of emotion. Not even concern. He was +approaching two huddled figures lying amidst a lurid splash of their +own blood. They were barely a yard from each other, and their position +was directly beneath the floor of the box which the "onlookers" had +occupied. +</P> + +<P> +The three men converged at the same moment. It was the sight of John +Kars and Dr. Bill that brought the first sign of emotion to Pap's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, this is hell!" he cried. Then, as the doctor knelt beside the +body of Alec Mowbray, the back of whose head, with its tangled mass of +blood-soaked hair, was a great gaping cavity: "He's out. That pore +darn kid's out—sure. Say, I wouldn't have had it happen for ten +thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +It was Kars who replied. Dr. Bill was examining the body of the man +whose clothing was stained with the auriferous soil of his claim. +</P> + +<P> +Two guns were lying on the floor beside the bodies. Pap moved as +though to pick one up. Kars' hand fell on his outstretched arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't touch those," he said. "Guess they're for the police." +</P> + +<P> +Pap straightened up on the instant. His dark eyes shot a swift glance +into the face of the man he had for years desired to come into closer +contact with. It was hardly a friendly look. It was questioning, too. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll be around right away. I 'phoned 'em." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Good." +</P> + +<P> +Bill looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Out. Right out. Both of them. Guess we best wait for the police." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't they be removed?" Pap's eyes were on the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +Kars took it upon himself to reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Not till the p'lice get around." +</P> + +<P> +But Pap would not accept the dictation. +</P> + +<P> +"That so, Doc?" he inquired, ignoring Kars. +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," said Bill, with an almost stern brevity. Then, in a +moment, the Jew's face flushed under his dark skin. +</P> + +<P> +"The darn suckers!" he cried. "This'll cost me thousands of dollars. +It'll drive trade into the Gridiron fer weeks. If I'd been wise to +that bum being soused he'd have gone out, if he broke his lousy neck." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not dead sure he was soused," said Kars. +</P> + +<P> +The cold tone of his voice again brought Pap's eyes to his face. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'you guess?" he demanded roughly. +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't a miner, and he wasn't soused. I guess he was a 'gunman.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What d'you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just what I said. I'd been watching him a while from the box above +us. I've seen enough to figger this thing's for the p'lice. We're +going to put this thing through for what it's worth, and my bank roll's +going to talk plenty." +</P> + +<P> +Bill had risen from his knees. He was standing beyond the two bodies. +His shrewd eyes were steadily regarding Pap, who, in turn, was gazing +squarely into the cold eyes of John Kars. +</P> + +<P> +Just for a moment it looked as though he were about to fling back hot +words at the unquestioned challenge in them. But the light suddenly +died out of his eyes. His thin lips compressed, and he shrugged his +shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess that's up to you," he said, and moved away towards the bar. +</P> + +<P> +Kars gazed down at the dead form of Alec Mowbray. All the coldness had +gone out of his eyes. It had been replaced with a world of pity, for +which no words of his could have found expression. The spectacle was +terrible, and the sight of it filled him with an emotion which no sight +of death had ever before stirred. He was thinking of the widowed +mother. He was thinking of the girl whose gray eyes had taught him so +much. He was wondering how he must carry the news to these two living +souls, and fling them once more to the depths of despair such as they +had endured through the murder of a husband and father. +</P> + +<P> +He was aroused from his grievous meditations by a sharp hammering on +the main doors. It was the police. Kars turned at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Open that door!" he said sharply to the waiter standing beside it. +</P> + +<P> +The man hesitated and looked at Pap. Kars would not be denied. +</P> + +<P> +"Open that door," he ordered again, and moved towards it. +</P> + +<P> +The man obeyed on the instant. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +It was two days before the investigation into the tragedy at the +Elysian Fields released Dr. Bill. Being on the spot, and being one of +the most skilful medical men in Leaping Horse, the Mounted Police had +claimed him, a more than willing helper. +</P> + +<P> +In two issues the Leaping Horse <I>Courier</I> had dared greatly, +castigating the morality of the city, and the Elysian Fields in +particular, under "scare" headlines. For two days the public found no +other topic of conversation, and the "shooting" looked like serving +them indefinitely. They had been waiting for this thing to happen. +They had been given all they desired to the full. A hundred witnesses +placed themselves at the disposal of the Mounted Police, and at least +seventy-five per cent of them were more than willing to incriminate Pap +Shaunbaum if opportunity served. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was John Kars idle during that time. His attorneys saw a good deal +of him, and, as a result, a campaign to track down the instigator of +this shooting was inaugurated. And that instigator was, without a +shadow of doubt,—Pap Shaunbaum. +</P> + +<P> +Kars saw nothing of Bill during those two days of his preoccupation. +But the second morning provided him with food for serious reflection. +It was a brief note which reached him at noon. It was an urgent demand +that he should take no definite action through his legal advisers, +should take no action at all, in fact, until he, Bill, had seen him, +and conveyed to him the results of the investigation. He would +endeavor to see him that night. +</P> + +<P> +Kars studied the position carefully. But he committed himself to no +change of plans. He simply left the position as it stood for the +moment, and reserved judgment. +</P> + +<P> +It was late at night when Bill made his appearance. Kars was waiting +in his apartment with what patience he could. He had spent a busy day +on his own mining affairs, which usually had the effect of wearying +him. For the last two or three years the commercial aspect of his +mining interests came very nearly boring him. It was only the sheer +necessity of the thing which drove him to the offices of the various +corporations he controlled. +</P> + +<P> +But the sight of his friend banished every other consideration from his +mind. The shooting of Alec Mowbray dominated him, just as, for the +present, it dominated the little world of Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +He thrust a deep chair forward in eager welcome, and looked on with +grave, searching eyes while the doctor flung himself into it with a +deep, unaffected sigh of weariness. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess I haven't had a minute, John," he said. "Those police fellers +are drivers. Say, we always reckon they're a bright crowd. You need +to see 'em at work to get a right notion. They've got most things beat +before they start." +</P> + +<P> +"This one?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars settled himself in a chair opposite his visitor. His manner was +that of a man prepared to listen rather than talk. He stretched his +long legs comfortably. +</P> + +<P> +"I said 'most.' No-o, not this one. That's the trouble. That's why I +wrote you. The police are asking a question. And they've got to find +an answer. Who fired the shots that shut out that boy's lights?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' brows were raised. An incredulous look searched the other's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that 'gunman'—surely." +</P> + +<P> +Bill shook his head. He had been probing a vest pocket. Now he +produced a small object, and handed it across to the other with a keen +demand. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" His eyes were twinkling alertly. +</P> + +<P> +Kars took the object and examined it closely under the electric light. +After a prolonged scrutiny he handed it back. +</P> + +<P> +"The bullet of a 'thirty-two' automatic," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. Dead right. The latest invention for toughs to hand out murder +with. The police don't figger there's six of them in Leaping Horse." +</P> + +<P> +"I brought one with me this trip. They're quick an' handy. But—that?" +</P> + +<P> +"That?" Bill held the bullet poised, gazing at it while he spoke. "I +dug that out of that boy's lung. There's another of 'em, I guess. The +police have that. They dug theirs out of the woodwork right behind +where young Alec was standing. It was that opened his head out. Those +two shots handed him his dose. And the other feller—why, the other +feller was <I>armed with a forty-five Colt</I>." +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing dramatic in the manner of the statement. Bill spoke +with all his usual calm. He was merely stating the facts which had +been revealed at the investigation. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' only outward sign was a stirring of his great body. The +significance had penetrated deeply. He realized the necessity of his +friend's note. +</P> + +<P> +Bill went on. +</P> + +<P> +"If we'd only seen it all," he regretted. "If we'd seen the shots +fired, we'd have been a deal wiser. I'm figgering if we hadn't quit +our seats we'd have been wise—much wiser. But we quit them, and it's +no use figgering that way. The police have been reconstructing. +They're reconstructing right now. There's a thing or two stands right +out," he went on reflectively. "And they're mostly illuminating. +First Alec was quicker with his gun than the other feller. He did that +'gunman' up like a streak of lightning. He didn't take a chance. +Where he learned his play I can't think. There was a dash of his +father in what he did. And he'd have got away with it if—it hadn't +been for the automatic from somewhere else. The 'gunman' drew on him +first. That's clear. A dozen folk saw it. He'd boosted Alec and his +dame in the dance, and stretched Maude on the floor. And he did it +because he meant to. It was clumsy—which I guess was meant, too. I +don't reckon it looked like anything but a dance hall scrap. That's +where we see Pap in it. The 'gunman' got his dose in the pit of his +bowels, and a hole in his heart, while his own shots went wide, and +spoiled some of the gold paint in the decorations. The police tracked +out both bullets that came from his gun. But the automatic?" +</P> + +<P> +He drew a deep breath pregnant with regret. +</P> + +<P> +"It came from a distant point," he went on, after a pause. "There's +folks reckon it came from one of the boxes opposite where we were +sitting. How it didn't get some of the crowd standing around keeps me +guessing. The feller at the end of that gun was an—artist. He was a +jewel at the game. And it wasn't Pap. That's as sure as death. Pap +was standing yarning to a crowd at the bar when all the shots were +fired. And the story's on the word of folks who hate him to death. We +can't locate a soul who saw any other gun pulled. I'd say Pap's got +Satan licked a mile. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, John," he went on, after another pause, "it makes this thing look +like a sink without any bottom for the dollars you reckon to hand out +chasing it up. The boy's out. And Pap's tracks—why, they just don't +exist. That's all. It looks like we've got to stand for this play the +same as we have to stand for most things Pap and his gang fancy doing. +I'm beat to death, and—sore. Looks like we're sitting around like two +sucking kids, and we can't do a thing—not a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"But there's talk of two 'gunmen.'" Kars was sitting up. His attitude +displayed the urgency of his thought. "The folks all got it. I've had +it all down the sidewalk." +</P> + +<P> +His emotions were deeply stirred. They were displayed in the mounting +flush under his weather-stained cheeks. In the hot contentiousness of +his eyes. He was leaning forward with his feet tucked beneath his +chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure you have. So have I. So have the police." Bill's reply came +after a moment's deliberation. "Josh Wiseman handed that out. Josh +reckons he's seen them, and recognized them. But Josh is a big souse. +He's seeing things 'most all the time. He figgers the feller young +Alec shot up was one of them—by name Peter Hara, of 'Frisco. The +other, we haven't seen, he reckons is 'Hand-out' Lal. Another 'Frisco +bum. But the police have had the wires going, and they can't track +fellers of that name in 'Frisco, or anywhere else. Still, it's a trail +they're hanging to amongst others. And I guess they're not quitting it +till they figger Josh is right for the bughouse. No," he added with a +trouble that would no longer be denied, "the whole thing is, Pap's +clear. There's not a thing points his way. It's the result of a dance +hall brawl, and we—why, we've just got to hand on the whole pitiful +racket to two lone women at the Fort." +</P> + +<P> +For moments the two men looked into each other's eyes. Then Kars +started up. He began to pace the soft carpet with uneven strides. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he paused. His emotions seemed to be again under control. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems that way," he said, "unless Murray starts out before us." +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's quit," Bill shook his head. "He'd quit the city before this +thing happened. The morning of the same day. His whole outfit pulled +out with him. He doesn't know a thing of this." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know he'd quit." Kars stood beside the centre table gazing +down at the other. +</P> + +<P> +"The police looked him up. They wanted to hold up the news from the +boy's folks till they'd investigated. He'd been gone twenty-four +hours." +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't a notion," Kars declared blankly. "I figgered to run him +down at Adler's." Then in a moment his feelings overcame his +restraint. "Then it's up to—me," he cried desperately. "It's up to +me, and it—scares me to death. Say—that poor child. That poor +little gal." Again he was pacing the room. "It's fierce, Bill! Oh, +God, it's fierce!" +</P> + +<P> +Bill's gravely sympathetic eyes watched the rapid movements of the man +as he paced restlessly up and down. He waited for that calmness which +he knew was sure to follow in due course. When he spoke his tones had +gathered a careful moderation. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it's fierce," he said. Then he added: "Murray drives hard on the +trail. This story isn't even going to hit against his heels. Say, +John, you best let me hand this story on. Y'see my calling makes it +more in my line. A doctor's not always healing. There's times when +he's got to open up wounds. But he knows how to open 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Not on your life, Bill!" Kars' denial came on the instant. "I'm not +shirking a thing. I just love that child to death. It's up to me. +Some day I'm hoping it's coming my way handing her some sort of +happiness. That being so I kind of feel she's got to get the other +side of things through me. God knows it's going to be tough for her, +poor little kid, but well, it's up to me to help her through." +</P> + +<P> +There was something tremendously gentle in the man's outburst. He was +so big. There was so much force in his manner. And yet the infinite +tenderness of his regard for the girl was apparent in every shadow of +expression that escaped him. +</P> + +<P> +Bill understood. But for once the position was reversed. The doctor's +kindly, twinkling eyes seemed to have absorbed all that which usually +looked out of the other's. They were calm, even hard. There was +bitter anger in them. His mellow philosophy had broken down before the +human feelings so deeply stirred. He had passed the lover's feelings +over for a reversion to the tragedy at the Elysian Fields. It was the +demoniac character of the detested Pap Shaunbaum. It was the hideous +uselessness of it all. It was the terrible viciousness of this leper +city which had brought the whole thing about. +</P> + +<P> +But was it? His mind went further back. There was another tragedy, +equally wanton, equally ferocious. The father as well as the son, and +he marveled, and wondered at the purpose of Providence in permitting +such a cruel devastation of the lives of two helpless, simple women. +</P> + +<P> +His sharp tones broke the silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he exclaimed, "this thing needs to be hunted down, John. It +needs to be hunted down till the 'pound's' paid. Those two lone women +are my best friends. Guess they're something more to you. I can't see +daylight. I can't see where it's coming from, anyway. But some one's +got to get it. And we need a hand in passing it to him, whoever it is. +I feel just now there wouldn't be a thing in the world more comic to me +than to see Pap Shaunbaum kicking daylight with his vulture neck tied +up. And I'd ask no better of Providence than to make it so I could +laugh till my sides split. It's going to mean dollars an' dollars, and +time, and a big work. But if we don't do it, why, Pap gets away with +his play. We can't stand for that. My bank roll's open." +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't need to be." All the gentleness had passed from Kars' +eyes, from his whole manner. It had become abrupt again. "Guess money +can't repay those poor folks' losses. But it can do a deal to boost +justice along. It's my money that's going to talk. I'm going to wipe +out the score those lone women can never hope to. I'm going to pay it. +By God, I'm going to pay it!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE SPRINGTIME +</H3> + + +<P> +So the day came when the outfit of John Kars "pulled out." There had +been no change in his plans as the result of Alec Mowbray's murder. +There could be no change in them, so long as hundreds of miles divided +this man from the girl who had come to mean for him all that life +contained. The old passion for the trail still stirred him. The +Ishmaelite in him refused to change his nature. But since his manhood +had responded to natural claims, since the twin gray stars had risen +upon his horizon, a magnetic power held him to a definite course which +he had neither power nor inclination to deny. +</P> + +<P> +The days before the departure had been busy indeed. They had been +rendered doubly busy by the affairs surrounding Alec Mowbray's death. +But all these things had been dealt with, with an energy that left a +course of perfect smoothness behind as well as ahead. +</P> + +<P> +Everything, humanly possible, would be done to hunt down the instigator +and perpetrator of the crime, and a small fortune was placed at the +disposal of Kars' trusted attorneys for that purpose. For the rest he +would be personally responsible. In Bill Brudenell he had a willing +and sagacious lieutenant. In Abe Dodds, and in the hard-living expert +prospector, Joe Saunders, he had a staff for his enterprise on Bell +River beyond words in capacity and loyalty. +</P> + +<P> +But the "outfit." It was called "outfit," as were all such +expeditions. It resembled an army in miniature, white and colored. +But more than all else it resembled a caravan, and an extensive one. +The preparations had occupied the whole of the long winter, and had +been wrapped in profound secrecy. The two men who had carried them +out, under Bill Brudenell's watchful eye, had labored under no +delusions. They were preparing for a great adventure in the hunt for +gold, but they were also preparing for war on no mean scale. Their +enthusiasm rejoiced in both of these prospects, and they worked with an +efficiency that left nothing to be desired. +</P> + +<P> +The dispositions at departure were Kars' secret. Nor were they known +until the last moment. The warlike side of the expedition was +dispatched in secret by an alternative and more difficult trail than +the main communication with Fort Mowbray. It carried the bulk of +equipment. But its way would be shorter, and it would miss Fort +Mowbray altogether, and take up its quarters at the headwaters of Snake +River, to await the coming of the leaders. Abe and Saunders would +conduct this expedition, while Kars and Bill traveled via Fort Mowbray, +with Peigan Charley, and an outfit of packs and packmen such as it was +their habit to journey with. +</P> + +<P> +The start of the expedition was without herald or trumpet. It left its +camp in the damp of a gray spring morning, when, under cover of a +gradually lightening dawn, it struck through a narrow valley, where +feet and hoofs sank deep into a mire of liquid mud. +</P> + +<P> +To the west the hills rose amidst clouds of saturating mist. To the +east the rolling country mounted slowly till it reached the foot of +vast glacial crests, almost at the limit of human vision. The purpling +distance to the west suggested fastnesses remote enough from the +northern man, yet in those deep canyons, those wide valleys, along +creek-bank and river bed, the busy prospector was ruthlessly +prosecuting his quest for the elusive "color," and the mining engineer +was probing for Nature's most deeply hidden secrets. +</P> + +<P> +This was the Eldorado John Kars had known since his boyhood's days, +when the fierce fight against starvation had been bitter indeed. Few +of the secrets of those western hills were unknown to him. But now +that his pouch was full, and the pangs of hunger were only a remote +memory, and these hills claimed him only that he was lord of properties +within their heart which yielded him fortune almost automatically, his +eyes were turned to the north, and to the hidden world eastwards. +</P> + +<P> +It was a trail of mud and washout. It was a trail of landslide and +flood. It was a dripping land, dank with melting mists, and awash with +the slush of the thaw. The skies were pouring out their flood of +summer promise, those warming rains which must always be endured before +the hordes of flies and mosquitoes swarm to announce the real open +season. +</P> + +<P> +But these men were hard beyond all complaint at physical discomfort. +If they cursed the land they haunted, it was because it was their habit +so to curse. It was the curse of the tongue rather than of the heart. +For they were men who owed all that they were, or ever hoped to be, to +this fierce country north of "sixty." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Spring was over all. The northern earth was heaving towards awakening +from its winter slumber. As it was on the trail, so it was on Snake +River, where the old black walls of Fort Mowbray gazed out upon the +groaning and booming glacial bed, burying the dead earth beyond the +eyes of man. The fount of life was renewing itself in man, in beast, +even in the matter we choose to regard as dead. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie Mowbray was watching the broken ice as it swept on down the +flooding river. She was clad in an oilskin which had only utility for +its purpose. Her soft gray eyes were gazing out through the gently +falling rain with an awe which the display of winter's break up never +failed to inspire in her. +</P> + +<P> +The tremendous power of Nature held her spellbound. It was all so +vast, so sure. She had witnessed these season's changes since her +childhood and never in her mind had they sunk to the level of routine. +They were magical transformations wrought by the all-powerful fairy, +Nature. They were performed with a wave of the wand. The iron of +winter was swept away with a rush, and the stage was instantly set for +summer. +</P> + +<P> +But the deepest mystery to her was the glacier beyond the river. Every +spring she listened to its groaning lamentation with the same feelings +stirring. Her gentle spirit saw in it a monster, a living, moving, +heaving monster, whose voice awoke the echoes of the hills in protest, +and whose enveloping folds clung with cruel tenacity to a conquered +territory laboring to free itself from a bondage of sterility which it +had borne for thousands of years. To her it was like the powers of +Good battling with influences of Evil. It was as though each year, +when the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, these powers of Good +were seeking vainly to overthrow an evil which threatened the tiny +human seed planted in the world for the furthering of an All-wise +Creator's great hidden purpose. +</P> + +<P> +The landing was almost awash with the swollen waters. The booming +ice-floes swept on. They were moving northwards, towards the eternal +ice-fields, to melt or jamb on their way, but surely to melt in the +end. And when they had all gone it would be summer. And life—life +would be renewed at the post. +</P> + +<P> +Renewal of the life at the post meant only one thing for Jessie. It +meant the early return of John Kars. The thought of it thrilled her. +But the thrill passed. For she knew his coming only heralded his +passing on. +</P> + +<P> +She sighed and her soft eyes grew misty. Nor had the mist to do with +the rain which was saturating the world about her. Oh, if there were +to be no passing on! But she knew she could not hope for so much. +There was nothing for him here. Besides, he was wedded to the secrets +of the long trail. +</P> + +<P> +Wedded! Her moment, of regret passed, and a great dream filled her +simple mind. It was her woman's dream of all that could ever crown her +life. It was the springtime of her life and all the buoyant hope of +the break from a dead winter was stirring in her young veins. She put +from her mind the "passing on," and remembered only that he would soon +return. +</P> + +<P> +Her heart was full of a gentle delight as at last she turned back from +the river, and sought her home in the clearing. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes were shining radiantly when she encountered Father José +passing over to his Mission from his ministrations to a sick squaw. +</P> + +<P> +"Been watching the old ice go?" he inquired, smiling into the eyes +which looked into his from under the wide brim of a waterproof hat. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"It's spring—isn't it?" she said smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Her reply summed up her whole mood. The priest understood. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely. And it's good to see the spring, my child. It's good for +everybody, young and old. But," he added with a sigh, "it's specially +good for us up here. The Indians die like flies in winter. But your +mother's asking for you." +</P> + +<P> +The girl hurried on. Perhaps second to her love for John Kars came her +affection for her brave mother. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray met her at the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's asking for you," she said, in her simply direct fashion. +"He's got plans and things he needs to fix. He told me this morning, +but I guess he needs to explain them himself. Will you go along up to +the Fort?" +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing in the mother's manner to invite the quick look of +doubt which her words inspired. +</P> + +<P> +Murray had only arrived from Leaping Horse two days before. Since that +time he had been buried under an avalanche of arrears of work. Even +his meals had had to be sent up to him at the Fort. He had brought +back reports of Alec's well-being for the mother and sister. He had +brought back all that abounding good-nature and physical and mental +energy which dispelled the last shadows of winter loneliness from these +women. Ailsa Mowbray had carried on the easy work of winter at the +store, but she was glad of the relief from responsibility which +Murray's return gave her. +</P> + +<P> +But he had laid before her the necessity of a flying visit up country +at once, and had urged her to again carry on the store duties in his +absence. Furthermore he had suggested that Jessie's assistance should +be enlisted during his absence, since Alec was away, and the work would +be heavier now that spring was opening. +</P> + +<P> +The mother had reluctantly agreed. For herself she had been willing +enough. But for Jessie she had stipulated that he should place the +matter before her himself. She had no desire that the one child +remaining to her should be made to slave her days at the Fort. She +would use none of her influence. Her whole interest in the trade which +had been her life for so long was waning. There were times when she +realized, in the loneliness which had descended upon them with Alec's +going, that only habit kept her to the life, and even that held her +only by the lightest thread. It was coming to her that the years were +passing swiftly. The striving of the days at the side of her idolized +husband had seemed not only natural, but a delight to her. Since his +cruel end no such feeling had stirred her. There were her children, +and she had realized that the work must go on for them. But now—now +that Alec had gone to the world outside her whole perspective had +changed. And with the change had come the realization of rapidly +passing years. +</P> + +<P> +There were times, even, when she speculated as to how and where she +could set up a new home for her children. A home with which Alec could +find no fault, and Jessie might have the chances due to her age. But +these things were kept closely to herself. The habit of years was +strong upon her, and, for all her understanding of her wealth, it was +difficult to make a change. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you tell me, mother? I'd rather have you explain!" +</P> + +<P> +The likeness between mother and daughter was very strong. Even in the +directness with which they expressed their feelings. Jessie's feelings +were fully displayed in the expression of her preference. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you want to see Murray?" +</P> + +<P> +The mother's question came on the instant. It came with a suggestion +of reproach. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm not scared, mother," the girl smiled. "Only I don't just see +why Murray should ask me things you don't care to ask me. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" The mother's eyes were searching. +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly." +</P> + +<P> +Jessie laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Best tell me the rest." +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook her head decidedly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, mother. There's no need. You're wiser than you pretend. +Murray's a better friend and partner—in business—than anything else. +Guess we best leave it that way." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's best that way." The mother was regarding the pretty face +before her with deep affection. "But I told Murray he'd have to lay +his plans before you—himself. That's why he wants to see you up at +the Fort." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's response came at once, and with an impulsive readiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll go up, right away," she said. Nor was there the smallest +display of any of the reluctance she really felt. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The girl stood framed in the great gateway of the old stockade. The +oilskin reached almost to her slim ankles. It was dripping and the hat +of the same material which almost entirely enveloped her ruddy brown +head was trailing a stream of water on to her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish saw her from the window of his office. He saw her +pause for a few moments and gaze out at the distant view. He +remembered seeing her stand so once before. He remembered well. He +remembered her expressed fears, and all that which had happened +subsequently. The smile on his round face was the same smile it had +been then. Perhaps it was a smile he could not help. +</P> + +<P> +This time he made no move to join her. He waited. And presently she +turned and passed round to the door of the store. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother said you wanted to see me about something. Something you +needed to explain—personally. That so?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie was standing beside the trader's desk. She was looking down +squarely into the man's smiling face. There was a curious fearlessness +in her regard that was not quite genuine. There was a brusquerie in +her manner that would not have been there had there been any one else +present. +</P> + +<P> +She removed the oilskin hat, and laid it aside on a chair as she spoke, +and the revelation of her beautiful chestnut hair, and its contrast +with her gray eyes, quickened the man's pulses. He was thinking of her +remarkable beauty even as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it's good of you to come along. You best shed that oilskin." +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his desk to assist. But the girl required none of his +help. She slipped out of the garment before he could reach her. He +accepted the situation, and drew forward the chair from the desk at +which Alec had been wont to work. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll sit," he said, as he placed it for her. +</P> + +<P> +But Murray's consideration and politeness had no appeal for Jessie. +She was anxious to be done with the interview. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," she said, with a short laugh. "The old hill +doesn't tire me any. I got the school in an hour, so, maybe, you'll +tell me about things right away." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, there's the school, and there's a heap of other things that take +your time." Murray had returned to his desk, and Jessie deliberately +moved to the window. "It's those things made me want to talk to you. +I was wondering how you could fix them so you could hand us a big piece +of time up here." +</P> + +<P> +"You want me to work around the store?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl had turned. Her questioning eyes were regarding him steadily. +There was no unreality about her manner now. Murray's smile would have +been disarming had she not been so used to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Just while I'm—away." +</P> + +<P> +There was the smallest possible twist of wryness to the man's lips as +he admitted to himself the necessity for the final words. +</P> + +<P> +"I see." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's relief was so obvious that, for a moment, the man's gaze +became averted. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps Jessie was unaware of the manner in which she had revealed her +feelings. Perhaps she knew, and had even calculated it. Much of her +mother's courage was hers. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better make it plain—what you want. Exactly. If it's in the +interest of things, why, I'll do all I know." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's remarkable eyes were steadily regarding her again. His +mechanical smile had changed its character. It was spontaneous now. +But its spontaneity was without any joy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's in the interest of—things, or I wouldn't ask it," he said. +"Y'see," he went on, "I got right back home here to get news of things +happening north that want looking into. I've got to pull right away +before summer settles down good, and get back again. That being so it +sets everything on to your mother's shoulders—with Alec away. Your +mother's good grit. We couldn't find her equal anywhere when it comes +to handling this proposition. But she doesn't get younger. And it +kind of seems tough on her." He sighed, and his eyes had sobered to a +look of real trouble. "Y'see, Jessie, she's a great woman. She's a +mother I'd have been proud to call my own. But she's yours, and that's +why I'm asking that you'll weigh in and help her out—the time I'm +away. It's not a lot when you see your mother getting older every day, +is it? 'Specially such a mother. She's too big to ask you herself. +That's her way. It makes me feel bad when I get back to find her doing +and figgering at this desk when she ought to be sitting around at her +ease after all she's done in the past. It's that, or get white help in +from down south. And it don't seem good getting white help in, not +while we can keep this outfit going ourselves. There's things don't +need getting 'outside,' or likely we'll get a rush of whites that'll +leave us no better than a bum trading post of the past. It wouldn't be +good for us sitting around at this old post, not earning a grub stake, +while other folks were eating the—fruit we'd planted." +</P> + +<P> +The girl had remained beside the window the whole time he was talking. +But her eyes were on him, and she was filled with wonder, and not +untouched by the feeling he was displaying. This was a side to his +character she had never witnessed before. It astounded. But it also +searched every generous impulse she possessed. +</P> + +<P> +Her answer came on the instant. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't need to say another word," she cried. "Nothing matters so I +can help mother out. I know there's secrets and things. I've every +reason to know there are. The good God knows I've reason enough. We +all have. What those secrets are I can only guess, and I don't want +even to do that—now. I hate them, and wish they'd never been." +</P> + +<P> +"Your mother would never have been the wealthy woman she is without +them." +</P> + +<P> +"No, and I'd be glad if that were so." +</P> + +<P> +There was a world of passionate sincerity in the girl's denial. It +came straight from her heart. The loss of a father could find no +compensation in mere wealth. She understood the grasping nature of +this man. She understood that commercial success stood out before +everything in his desires. +</P> + +<P> +Her moment of more kindly feeling towards him passed, and a breath of +winter chilled her warm young heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you?" +</P> + +<P> +The man's smile had returned once more. His questioning eyes had a +subtle irony in their burning depths. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. A thousand times I'd have us be just struggling traders as we +once were. Then I'd have my daddy with us, and mother would be the +happy woman I've always remembered her—before those secrets." +</P> + +<P> +The man stirred with a movement almost of irritation. +</P> + +<P> +"There's things I can't just see, child," he said, with a sort of +restrained impatience. "You're talking as if you guessed life could be +controlled at the will of us folk. You guess your father could have +escaped his fate, if he'd left our trade on Bell River alone. Maybe he +could, on the face of things. But could he have escaped acting the way +he acted? Could any of us? We all got just so much nature. That +nature isn't ours to cut about and alter into the shape we fancy. What +that nature says 'do,' we just got to do. Your nature's telling you to +get around and help your mother out. My nature says get busy and see +to things up north. Well, a landslide, or a blizzard, or any old thing +might put me out of business on the way. A storm, or fire might cost +you your life right here in this Fort. It's the chances of life. And +it's the nature of us makes us take the chances. We just got to work +on the way we see, and we can't see diff'rent—at will. If we could +see diff'rent at will, there's a whole heap I'd have changed in my +life. There's many things I'd never have done, and many things I +figger to do wouldn't be done. But I see the way I was born, and I +don't regret a thing—not a thing—except the shape Providence made me. +I'm going to live—not die—a rich man, doing the things I fancy, if +Life don't figger to put me out of business. And I don't care a curse +what it costs. It's how I'm born, and it's the nature of me demands +these things. I'm going to do all I've set my mind to do, and I'll do +it with my last kick, if necessary. Do you understand me? That's why +I'm glad of those secrets we're talking of. That's why I'll work to +the last to hold 'em. That's why I don't mean to let things stand in +my way that can be shifted. That's why I'm asking you to help us get +busy. Our interests I guess are your interests." +</P> + +<P> +It was another revelation of the man such as Jessie had had at +intervals before, and which had somehow contrived to tacitly antagonize +her. Her nature was rebelling against the material passion of this +man. There was something ruthlessly sordid underlying all he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad it doesn't need those feelings to make me want to help my +mother," she said quietly. "Interests? Say, interests of that sort +don't matter a thing for me. Thought of them won't put an ounce more +into the work I'll do to help—my mother. But she counts, and what you +said about her is all you need say. The other talk—is just talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" The man had risen from his chair. Jessie surveyed him with +cool measuring eyes. His podgy figure was almost ludicrous in her +eyes. His round, fleshy face became almost contemptible. But not +quite. He was part of her life, and then those eyes, so strange, so +baffling. So alive with an intelligence which at times almost +overwhelmed her. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't just talk, Jessie," he said approaching her, till he, too, +stood in the full light of the window. "Maybe you don't know it, but +your interests are just these interests I'm saying. It'll come to you +the moment you want to do a thing against 'em. Oh, I'm not bullying, +my dear. I'll show you just how. If a moment came in your life when +you figgered to carry out something that appealed to you, and your +sense told you it would hurt your mother's proposition right here, +you'd cut it out so quick you'd forget you thought of it. Why? +Because it's you. And you figger that no hurt's going to come to your +mother from you. There isn't a thing in the world to equal a good +woman's loyalty to her mother. Not even the love of a girl for a man. +There's a whole heap of women-folk break up their married lives for +loyalty to a—mother. That's so. And that's why your interests are +surely the interests I got back of my head—because they're the +interests of your mother." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl was uninfluenced by the argument. His words had come +rapidly. But she saw underneath them the great selfish purpose which +was devouring the man. Her antagonistic feeling was unabated. She +shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't convince me with that talk," she said coldly. "I wouldn't +do a thing to hurt my mother. That's sure. But interests to be +personal need to be backed by desire. I hate all that robbed me of a +father." +</P> + +<P> +The man shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"We most always get crossways," he said. "And it's the thing I just +hate—with you." Suddenly he laughed aloud. "Say, Jessie, I wonder if +you'd feel different to my argument if I didn't carry sixty pounds too +much weight for my size? I wonder if I stood six feet high, and had a +body like a Greek statue, you'd see the sense of my talk." +</P> + +<P> +The girl missed the earnestness lying behind the man's smiling eyes. +She missed the passionate fire he masked so well. She too laughed. +But her laugh was one of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe. Who knows," she said lightly. +</P> + +<P> +But, in a moment, regret for her unguarded words followed. +</P> + +<P> +"Before God, Jessie, if I thought by any act of mine I could get you to +feel diff'rent towards me, I'd rake out all the ashes of the things +I've figgered on all these years, to please you. I'd break up all the +hopes and objects, and ambitions I've set up, if it pleased you I +should act that way. I'd live the life you wanted. I'd act the way +you chose. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Jessie," he went on, with growing passion, "I've wanted to tell +you all there is in the back of my head for months. I've wanted to +tell you the work I'm doing, the driving towards great wealth, is just +because I've sort of built up a hope you'd some day help me spend it. +But you've never given me a chance. Not a chance. I had to tell you +this to-day. It's got to be now—now—or never. I'm going away on +work that has to be done, and I can't just wait another day till I've +told you these things. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd marry me, Jessie," the man continued, while the girl remained +mute, dumbfounded by the suddenness with which the passionate outburst +had come, "I'd hand you all you can ever ask in life. We'd quit this +God-forgotten land, and set up home where the sun's most always +shining, and our money counts for all that we guess is life. Don't +turn me down for my shape. Think of what it means. We can quit this +land with a fortune that would equal the biggest in the world. I know. +I hold the door to it. Your mother and I. I just love you with a +strength you'll never understand. All those things I've talked of are +just nothing to the way I love you. Say, child——" +</P> + +<P> +The girl broke in on him with a shake of the head. It was deliberate, +final. Even more final than her spoken words which sought for +gentleness. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't—just don't say another word," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +She started. For an instant her beautiful eyes flashed to the window. +Then they came back to the dark eyes which were glowing before her. In +a moment it seemed to her they had changed from the pleading, burning +passion to something bordering on the sinister. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't love you. I never could love you, Murray," she said a little +helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +There was the briefest possible pause, and a sound reached them from +outside. But the man seemed oblivious to everything but the passion +consuming him. And the manner of that seemed to have undergone a +sudden change. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," he broke out with furious bitterness and brutal force. "It's +because of that man. That Kars——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't dare to say that," Jessie cried, with heightened color and eyes +dangerously wide. "You haven't a right to speak that way. You——" +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I?" There was no longer emotion in the man's voice. Neither +anger, nor any gentler feeling. It was the tone Jessie always knew in +Murray McTavish. It was steady, and calm, and, just now, grievously +hurtful. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, maybe I haven't, since you say so. But I'm not taking your +answer now. I can't. I'll ask you again—next year, maybe. Maybe +you'll feel different then. I hope so." +</P> + +<P> +He swung about with almost electrical swiftness as his final words came +with a low, biting emphasis. And his movement was in response to the +swift opening of the door of the office. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars was standing in its framing. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN +</H3> + + +<P> +It was a moment of intensity such as rarely fails to leave a landmark +in the lives of those concerned. For Murray McTavish it was as though +every fear that had ever haunted him from the rivalry of John Kars had +suddenly been translated into concrete form. For Jessie the hero of +all her dreams had magically responded to her unspoken appeal for +succor. John Kars felt something approaching elation at the unerring +instinct which had prompted his visit to the Fort on the instant of +arrival. Bill Brudenell looked on as usual with eyes calm in their +passionless wisdom. To him fortune's wheel was distinctly revolving in +their favor. +</P> + +<P> +Passing the window both he and Kars had caught and read the girl's half +terrified glance. Both of them had seen Murray standing before her, +and realized something of the passionate urgency of manner he was +laboring under. Their interpretation of the scene remained each to +himself. No word passed between them. Only had Kars' gait increased +as he hurried round towards the door. +</P> + +<P> +Now Kars' tone gave his friend and supporter infinite satisfaction. +Bill even felt he had miscalculated the primal instincts which governed +this man. He knew he was exercising a powerful restraint. And it +pleased as well as astonished him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, say, you folks, I'm glad to have found you right away," Kars +said, with perfect cordiality. "We just pulled in on the trail, and +came right along up while Charley fixes things. We weren't sure of +getting Murray this time of year." +</P> + +<P> +Murray was completely master of himself. He was smiling his usual +greeting while John Kars shook hands with Jessie. Nor was his smile +any the less that his rival's words were for Jessie rather than for +him. He watched the new look born in the girl's eyes at sight of Kars +without a sign of emotion. And though it roused in him a fury of +jealousy his response only seemed to gain in cordiality. He laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"You're kind of lucky, too," he said. "I only got in from Leaping +Horse two days back, and I'm pulling out north right away." +</P> + +<P> +It was Bill who answered him. Jessie had picked up her oilskin, and +Kars was assisting her into it. +</P> + +<P> +"You only got in two days back?" Bill's brows were raised +questioningly. "You didn't drive as hard in the trail as folks guess." +</P> + +<P> +His shrewd eyes were twinkling as he watched the shadow of annoyance +pass swiftly across the trader's face. But Murray excused himself, and +his excuse seemed to afford Dr. Bill a certain amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"The trail was fierce," he said, with a shrug. "The devil himself +couldn't have got a hustle on." +</P> + +<P> +"No. We came the same trail." +</P> + +<P> +Kars seemed oblivious to what was passing between the two men. He +seemed to have no concern for any one but Jessie. +</P> + +<P> +"You going right down home now?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were smiling gently into the girl's upturned face, for all +that his mind was full of the tragic news he had yet to convey. +</P> + +<P> +He was so big as he stood there fastening the coat about her neck. His +rugged face was a picture of strength as he searched out the fastening +of the collar and secured it. His fur-lined pea-jacket, stained and +worn, his loose, travel-stained trousers tucked into his heavy knee +boots. These things aggravated his great bulk, and made him a very +giant of the world it was his whim to roam. +</P> + +<P> +The girl's moment of fear had entirely passed. There could be no +shadow for her where he was. Nor had the rapid beatings of her heart +anything to do with the scene through which she had just passed. It +was the touch of his great hands that stirred her with a thrill +exquisite beyond words. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," she answered readily. "I've got school at the Mission. I +came up to get Murray's plans he needed to fix. He's going north, as +he said, and guessed I ought to help mother right here while he's away. +You see, we haven't got Alec now." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +The smile passed out of Kars' eyes. The girl's final words shocked him +momentarily out of his self-command. There was one other at least who +held his breath for what was to follow that curt negative. But Bill +Brudenell need have had no fear. +</P> + +<P> +"But you'll be through after a while," Kars went on with a swift return +to his usual manner. "I'll be along down to pay my respects to your +mother. Meanwhile Bill and I need a yarn with Murray here. We're +stopping a while." +</P> + +<P> +While he was speaking he accompanied the girl to the door and watched +her till she had passed the angle of the building in the direction of +the gates of the stockade. Then he turned back to the trader, who was +once more seated at his desk. +</P> + +<P> +His whole manner had undergone a complete change. There was no smile +in his eyes now. There was a stern setting of his strong jaws. He +glanced swiftly at Bill, who had moved to the window. Then his eyes +came back to the mechanical smile on Murray's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Alec's out," he said. "He was shot up in the dance hall at the +Elysian Fields. It happened the night of the day you pulled out. He +ran foul of a 'gunman' who'd been set on his trail. He did the +'gunman' up. But he was done up, too. It's one of the things made us +come along up to you right away." +</P> + +<P> +John Kars made his announcement without an unnecessary word, without +seeking for a moment to lessen any effect which the news might have on +this man. He felt there was no need for any nicety. +</P> + +<P> +The effect of his announcement was hardly such as he might have +expected. There was a sort of amazed incredulity in Murray's dark eyes +and his words came haltingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Shot up? But—but—you're fooling. You—you must be. God! +You—must be!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you Alec is dead. Shot up." There was a hard ring in his +voice that robbed his words of any doubt. +</P> + +<P> +"God!" Then came a low, almost muttered expression of pity. "The poor +darn women-folk." +</P> + +<P> +The last vestige of Murray's mechanical smile had gone. An expression +of deep horror had deadened the curious light in his eyes. He sat +nerveless in his chair, and his bulk seemed to have become flabby with +loss of vitality. Bill was watching the scene from the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. It's going to be terrible—for them." +</P> + +<P> +Kars spoke with a force which helped disguise his real emotions. By a +great effort Murray pulled himself together. +</P> + +<P> +"It's—it's Shaunbaum," he said. Then he went on as though to himself: +"It's over—that woman. And I warned him. Gee, I warned him for all I +knew! Josh Wiseman was right. Oh, the crazy kid!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars, looking on, remembered that this man had lied when he had said +that he had urged Alec to quit his follies. He remembered that he had +given Alec money, his money, to help him the further to wallow in the +muck of Leaping Horse. He remembered these things as he gazed upon an +outward display of grief, and listened to words of regrets which +otherwise must have carried complete conviction. +</P> + +<P> +He saw no necessity to add anything. And in a moment Murray had +started into an attitude of fierce resentment, and crashed his fleshy +fist down upon the pages of the ledger before him. +</P> + +<P> +"I warned him," he cried fiercely, his burning eyes fixed on the +emotionless face of his rival. "God! I warned him. I had it from +Josh Wiseman the 'gunmen' were around. Shaunbaum's 'gunmen.' Say, +Kars," he went on, reaching out with his clenched fist for emphasis, +"that boy was in my hotel to tell me he was quitting the city on a big +play for a great stake. And I tell you it was like a weight lifted +right off my shoulders. I saw him getting shut of Shaunbaum and that +woman. I told him I was glad, and I told him Josh Wiseman's yarn. I +told him they reckoned Shaunbaum meant doing him up some way. An' he +laffed. Just laffed, and—guessed he was glad. And now—they've got +him. It's broke me all up. But the women. Jessie! His mother! Say, +it's going to break their hearts all to pieces." +</P> + +<P> +Kars stirred in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"We figgered that way," he said coldly. "That's why we came around to +you first. I'm going to tell the women-folk. And when I've told 'em I +guess you'll need to stop around a while. That's if you reckon this +place is to—— Say, they'll need time—plenty. It's up to you to +help them by keeping your hand on the tiller of things right here." +</P> + +<P> +Murray leaned back in his chair. His forcefulness had died out under +Kars' cold counsel. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's up to me," he said with a sort of desperate regret. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he looked up. A light of apprehension had grown in his dark +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You said <I>you'd</I> tell them?" he demanded eagerly. "Say, I couldn't do +it. I haven't the grit." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to tell them." +</P> + +<P> +There was no relaxing of manner in Kars. +</P> + +<P> +A deep relief replaced Murray's genuine dread. And presently his +fleshy chin sank upon his broad bosom in an attitude of profound +dejection. His eyes were hidden. His emotion seemed too deep for +further words. Bill, watching, beheld every sign. Nothing escaped him. +</P> + +<P> +For some moments the silence remained. Then, at last, it was Murray +who broke it. He raised his eyes to the cold regard of the man he had +so cordially come to hate. +</P> + +<P> +"Shaunbaum isn't going to get away with it?" he questioned. "The +p'lice? They've got a cinch on him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shaunbaum won't get away with it." +</P> + +<P> +"They've—arrested him?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No. Shaunbaum didn't shoot him. The boy did the 'gunman' up. You +see, it was the outcome of a brawl. There's no one to arrest—yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Who did shoot him up? The other 'gunman'? Josh spoke of two. Can't +he be got? He could give Shaunbaum away—maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so. Guess that's most how it stands. Maybe it was the other +'gunman.'" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's satisfaction was obvious. He nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. It's Shaunbaum's play. There's no question. Everybody got it +ahead. It wouldn't be his way to see another feller snatch his dame +without a mighty hard kick. It's Shaunbaum—sure." +</P> + +<P> +He bestirred himself. All his old energy seemed to spring suddenly +into renewed life. Again came that forceful gesture of the fist which +Bill watched with so much interest, and the binding of the ledger +creaked under its force. +</P> + +<P> +"By God! I hope they get him and hang him by his rotten vulture neck! +He's run his vile play too long. He's a disease—a deadly, stinking, +foul disease. Maybe it was a 'gunman' did the shooting. But I'd bet +my life it was Shaunbaum behind him. And to think these poor lone +women-folk, hundreds of miles away from him, should be the victims. +See here, Kars, I'm no sort of full-fledged angel. I don't set myself +up as any old bokay of virtue. There's things count more with me, and +one of 'em's dollars. I'm out after all I can get of 'em. But I'd +give half of all I possess to see a rawhide tight around Shaunbaum's +neck so it wouldn't give an inch. I haven't always seen eye to eye +with young Alec. Maybe our temperaments were sort of contrary. But +this thing's got me bad. Before God, there's not a thing I wouldn't do +to save these poor women-folk hurt. They're right on their lonesome +now. Do you get all that means to women-folk? There isn't a soul +between them and the world. You ask me to stand by. You ask me to +keep my hand on the tiller of things. I don't need the asking—by any +one. I was Allan's partner, and Allan's friend. It's my duty and my +right to get in between these poor folk and a world that would show +them small enough mercy. And I don't hand my right to any man living. +I got to thank you coming along to me. But it don't need you, or any +other man, to ask me to get busy for the sake of these folk. You can +reckon on me looking after things right here, Kars. I'm ready to do +all I know. And God help any one who'd rob them of a cent. Allan left +his work only half done. It was for them. And I'm going to carry it +through. The way he'd have had it." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The rain had ceased. A watery sunshine had broken through the heavy +clouds which were reluctantly yielding before a bleak wintry wind. It +was the low poised sun of afternoon in the early year, and its warmth +was as ineffectual as its beam of light. But it shone through the +still tightly sealed double windows of Ailsa Mowbray's parlor, a +promise which, at the moment, possessed neither meaning nor appeal. +</P> + +<P> +The widowed mother was standing near the wood stove which radiated a +welcome warmth, and still roared its winter song through its open +dampers. John Kars was leaning against the centre table. His serious +eyes were on the ruddy light shining under the damper of the stove. +His strong hands were gripping the woodwork of the table behind him. +His grip was something in the nature of a clutching support. His fixed +gaze was as though he had no desire to shift it to the face of the +woman on whom he had come to inflict the most cruel agony a woman may +endure. +</P> + +<P> +"You have come to talk to me of Alec? Yes? What of him?" Ailsa +Mowbray's eyes, so steady, so handsome, eyes that claimed so much +likeness to Jessie's, were eager. Then, in a moment, a note of anxiety +found expression. "He—is well?" +</P> + +<P> +The man's own suffering at that moment was lacerating. All that was in +him was stirred to its deepest note. It was as though he were about to +strike this woman down, a helpless, defenceless soul, and all his +manhood revolted. He could have wept tears of bitterness, such as he +had never dreamed could have been wrung from him. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"What—has happened? Quick! Tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +The awful apprehension behind the mother's demand found no real outward +sign. She stood firmly—unwaveringly. Only was there a sudden +suppressed alarm in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +Kars stirred. The jacket buttoned across his broad chest seemed to +stifle him. A mad longing possessed him to reach out and break +something. The pleasant warmth of the room had suddenly become +unbearable. He could no longer breathe in the atmosphere. He raised +his eyes to the mother's face for one moment. The next they sought +again the ruddy line of the stove. +</P> + +<P> +"He—is dead." +</P> + +<P> +"Dead? Oh, no! Not that! Oh—God help me!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars had no recollection of a mother's love. He had no recollection of +anything but the hard blows in a cruel struggle for existence, beside a +man whose courage was invincible, but in whom the tender emotions at no +time found the smallest display. But all that which he had inherited +from the iron man who had founded his fortunes had failed to rob him of +any of the gentler humanity which his unremembered mother must have +bestowed upon him. His whole being shrank under the untold agony of +this mother's denial and ultimate appeal. +</P> + +<P> +Now he spoke rapidly. The yearning to spare this woman, who had +already suffered so much, urged him. To prolong the telling he felt +would be cruelty unthinkable. He felt brevity to be the only way to +spare her. +</P> + +<P> +"He was shot by a tough," he said. "It was at the Elysian Fields. He +was dancing, and there was a quarrel. If blame there was for Alec it +was just his youth, I guess. Just sit, and I'll hand it you—all." +</P> + +<P> +He moved from the table. He came to the mother's side. His strong +hand rested on her shoulder, and somehow she obeyed his touch and sank +into the chair behind her. It was the chair from which she had watched +her little world grow up about her, the chair in which she had pondered +on the first great tragedy of her life. +</P> + +<P> +Her lips were unmoving. Her eyes terrible in their stony calm. They +mechanically regarded the man before her with so little understanding +that he wondered if he should proceed. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, however, he was left no choice. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," she said, and her hands clasped themselves in her lap with a +nerve force suggesting the physical clinging which remained her only +support. +</P> + +<P> +And at her bidding the man talked. He told his story in naked outline, +smothering the details of her boy's delinquencies, and sparing her +everything which could wound her mother's pride and devotion. His +purpose was clearly defined. The wound he had to inflict was well-nigh +mortal, but no word or act of his should aggravate it. His story was a +consummate effort of loyalty to the dead and mercy to the living. +</P> + +<P> +Even in the telling he wondered if those wide-gazing, stricken eyes +were reading somewhere in the depths of his soul the real secrets he +was striving so ardently to withhold. He could not tell. His +knowledge of women was limited, so limited. He hoped that he had +succeeded. +</P> + +<P> +At the conclusion of his pitiful story he waited. His purpose was to +leave the woman to her grief, believing that time, and her wonderful +courage, would help her. But it was difficult, and all that was in him +bade him stay, and out of his own great courage seek to help her. +</P> + +<P> +He stirred. The moment was dreadful in its hopelessness. +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie will be along," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The mother looked up with a start. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said. "She's all I have left. Oh, God, it will break her +young heart." +</P> + +<P> +There was no thought of self in that supreme moment. The mother was +above and beyond her own sufferings, even when the crushing grief was +beating her down with the full force of merciless blows. Her thought +for the suffering of her one remaining child was supreme. +</P> + +<P> +The man's hands gripped till his nails almost cut the hard flesh of his +palms. He had no answer for her words. It was beyond his power to +answer such words. +</P> + +<P> +He turned with a movement suggesting precipitate flight. But his going +was arrested by the voice he knew and loved so well. +</P> + +<P> +"What—what—will break her young heart?" +</P> + +<P> +Jessie was standing just within the room, and the door was closed +behind her. Her eyes were on the drawn face of her mother, but, +somehow, it seemed to Kars that her words were addressed to him. +</P> + +<P> +In the agony of his feelings he was about to answer. Perhaps +recklessly. For somehow the dreadful nature of his errand was telling +on a temper unused to such a task. But once again the fortitude of the +elder woman displayed itself, and he was saved from himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you, Jessie, when—he's gone." And the handsome, tragic +eyes looked squarely into the man's. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the full significance of the mother's words remained +obscure to the man. Then the courage, the strength of them made +themselves plain. He realized that this grief-stricken woman was +invincible. Nothing—just nothing could break her indomitable spirit. +In the midst of all her suffering she desired to spare him, to spare +her one remaining child. +</P> + +<P> +There could be no reply to such a woman. Nor could he answer the +girl—now. He came towards her. Resting one great hand on the oilskin +covering her shoulders, he looked down into her questioning, troubled +eyes with infinite tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"Jessie, there's things I can say to you I can't say even to your +mother. I want to say them now, with her looking on. I can't put all +I feel into words. Those things don't come easy to me. You see, I've +never had anything beyond my own concerns to look after, ever before in +my life. Other folks never kind of seemed to figger with me. Maybe +I'm selfish. It seems that way. But now—why, now that's all changed. +Things I always guessed mattered don't matter any longer. And why? +Why? Because there's just two women in the world got right into my +heart, and everything else has had to make way for them. Do you get +me, child? Maybe you don't. Well, it's just that all I am or ever +hope to be is for you. It don't matter the miles between us, or the +season. When I get your call I'll answer—right away." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN +</H3> + + +<P> +Fort Mowbray was enveloped in a black cloud of tragedy. Its simple +life flickered on. But it seemed to have been robbed of all its past +reality, all its quiet strength, all that made it worth while. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was the change confined to the white people. Even the Indians, +those stoic creatures born to the worst buffets life knows how to +inflict, whose whole object at the Mission was white man's bounty, to +be paid for by the worship of the white man's God, yielded to the +atmosphere of hopelessness prevailing. Alec had been the young white +chief after the great hunter who had paid his debt at the hands of the +Bell River terror. He, too, was gone, and they felt that they were in +the hands of the "smiling one" for whom their regard was chiefly +inspired by fear. The little white Father was their remaining hope, +and he was very, very old. +</P> + +<P> +So they set up their lamentations, surrounding them with all the rites +of their race. The old women crooned their mystic tuneless dirges. +The younger "charmed" the evil spirits haunting their path. The men +sat in long and profound council which was beset with doubt of the +future. +</P> + +<P> +Ailsa Mowbray and Jessie fought out their own battle, as once before +they had had to fight, and herein their native fortitude strove on +their behalf. For days they saw no one but the little priest who +remained ever at their call. The primitive in their lives demanded for +them that none should witness their hurt. They asked neither sympathy +nor pity, wherein shone forth the mother's wondrous courage which had +supported her through every trial. +</P> + +<P> +The days passed without the departure of Kars and Bill. The excuse was +the state of the river, by which they were to make the headwaters. The +ice was still flowing northward, but in ever lessening bulk, and the +time was filled in with repairs to the canoes which had suffered during +the long portage of the trail. +</P> + +<P> +This was the excuse, but it was only excuse. Both men knew it, and +neither admitted it verbally. The condition of the river would not +have delayed John Kars in the ordinary way. There was always the +portage. +</P> + +<P> +The truth lay in the passionate yearning of the heart of a man who had +remained so long beyond the influence of a woman upon his life. He had +set his task firmly before him, but its fulfilment now must wait till +he had made sure for himself of those things which had suddenly become +the whole aim and desire of his future. He could not leave the Fort +for the adventure of Bell River till he had put beyond all doubt the +hopes he had built on the love that had become the whole meaning of +earthly happiness to him. Bill understood this. So he refrained from +urging, and checked the impatient grumbling of Peigan Charley without +much regard for the scout's feelings. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish continued at his post, undemonstrative, without a sign. +The stream of spring traffic, which consisted chiefly of outfitting on +credit the less provident trappers and pelt-hunters for their summer +campaign, went on without interruption. His projected journey had been +definitely abandoned. But for all his outward manner he was less at +his ease than would have seemed. His eyes were upon Kars at all times. +His delayed departure irritated him. Perhaps he, too, like Bill +Brudenell, understood something of its meaning. +</P> + +<P> +Although his outward seeming had undergone no change, there was a +subtle difference in Murray. His trade methods had hardened. The +trappers who appealed to him in their need left him with a knowledge +that their efforts must be increased if they were to pay off their +credits, and keep up their profits for the next winter's supplies. +Then, too, he avoided Kars, who was sharing the Padre's hospitality, +and even abandoned his nightly visits to the priest, which had been his +habit of years. It was as rarely as possible that he came down to the +Mission, and the clearing only saw him when the demand of nature made +his food imperative. +</P> + +<P> +It was one day, just after his midday dinner, that Murray encountered +Father José. He was leaving Ailsa Mowbray's house, and the old priest +protested at his desertion. The trader's answer was ready on the +moment. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate it, Padre," he said, with unnecessary force. "But I can't act +diff'rent. I got to get around for food or starve. This place +wouldn't see me in months else. You see, I had too much to do with +that boy going down to Leaping Horse. And it's broke me up so bad I +can't face it yet—even to myself. Guess Mrs. Mowbray understands +that, too. Say, she's a pretty great woman. If she weren't I'd be +scared for our proposition here. She must get time. They both must, +and the less they see of me, why, it's all to the good. Time'll do +most things for women—for us all, I guess. Then, maybe things'll +settle down—later." +</P> + +<P> +And the priest's reply was characteristic. It was the reply of a man +who has endured life in the land north of "sixty" for the sheer love of +the dark souls it is his desire to help. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said, with a sigh. "Time can heal almost anything. But it +can't hide the scars. That's the work that falls to the grave." +</P> + +<P> +Murray remained silent while the priest helped himself to snuff. The +little man's eyes became tenderly reflective as he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Sixty years I've been looking around at things. And my conceit made +me hope to read something of the meaning that lies behind the things +Providence hands out." He shook his white head. "It's just conceit. +I'm not beyond the title page. Maybe the text inside isn't meant for +me. For any of us. It just bewilders. These folk. I've known them +right through from the start. I can see Allan now fixing that old Fort +into order, that old Fort with all its old-time wickedness behind it. +I've watched him, and his wife, and his kiddies, as only a lonely man +in this country can study the folk about him. Wholesome, clean, +God-fearing. That was Allan and his folk in my notion. They fought +their battle with clean hands, and—merciful. It mostly seemed to me +God, was in their hearts all the time. They endured and fought, and it +wasn't always easy. Now?" His eyes were gazing thoughtfully at the +home which had witnessed so much happiness and so much sorrow. "Why, +now God's hand has fallen heavy—heavy. It seems Providence means to +drive them from the Garden. The flaming sword is before their eyes. +It has fallen on them, and they must go. The reason?" +</P> + +<P> +Again came that meditative head-shake. "It's God's will. So be it." +</P> + +<P> +Murray drew a deep breath. He was less impressed by the priestly view +than with the implication. +</P> + +<P> +"Driving them out?" he questioned, his curious eyes searching the wise +old face. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems that way. Mrs. Mowbray won't pass another winter here. It's +not good to pitch camp on the grave of your happiness." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Murray stood looking after the little man, whom nothing stayed in his +mission of mercy. He watched him vanish within the woods, in the +direction of the Indian encampment. +</P> + +<P> +So two weeks, two long weeks passed, and each day bore its own signs of +the last efforts of winter in its reluctant retreat. And spring, in +its turn, was invincible, and it marched on steadily, breathing its +fresh, invigorating warmth upon an earth it was seeking to make +fruitful. +</P> + +<P> +The cloud of disaster slowly began to lift. Nothing stands still. +Nothing can stand still. The power of life moves on inexorably. It +brings with it its disasters and its joys, but they are all passing +emotions, and are of so small account in the tremendous scheme being +slowly worked out by an Infinite Power. +</P> + +<P> +The blow which had fallen on Jessie Mowbray had robbed her for the +moment of all joy in the coming of John Kars. But her love was deep +and real, and, for all her sorrow, she had neither power nor desire to +deny it. In her darkest moments there was a measure of comfort in it. +It was something on which she could lean for support. Even in her +greatest depths of suffering it buoyed her, all unknown, perhaps, but +nevertheless. +</P> + +<P> +So, as the days passed, and the booming of the glacier thundered under +the warming spring sunlight, she yearned more and more for the gentle +sympathy which she knew he would readily yield. Thus it came that Kars +one day beheld her on the landing, gazing at the work which was going +on under his watchful eye. +</P> + +<P> +It was the revelation he had awaited. That night he conferred with +Bill, with the resulting decision of a start to be made within two days. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The wonder of it. God's world. A world of life and hope. The winter +of Nature's despair driven forth beyond the borders to the outland +drear of eternal northern ice. The blue of a radiant sky, flecked with +a fleece, white as driven snow, frothing waves tossed on the bosom of a +crisp spring breeze. The sun playing a delicious hide-and-seek, at +moments flashing its brilliant eye, and setting the channels of life +pulsating with hope, and again lost behind its screen of alabaster, +that only succeeded in adding to its promise. +</P> + +<P> +As yet the skeleton arms of the winter woods remained unclad. But wild +duck and geese were on the wing, sweeping up from the south in search +of the melting sloughs and flooded hollows, pastures laid open to them +by the rapid thaw. The birth of the new season was accomplished, and +the labor of mother earth was a memory. +</P> + +<P> +They were at the bank of the river again. They were in the heart of +the willow glade, still shorn of its summer beauty. The man was +standing, large, dominating before her, but obsessed by every unmanly +fear. The girl was sitting on a fallen tree-trunk, whose screen of +tilted roots set up a barrier which shut her from the view of the +frowning glances of the aged Fort above them, and whose winter-starved +branches formed a breakwater in the ice cold flood of the stream. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie's pretty eyes were gazing up into the man's face. A quick look +of alarm had replaced, for the moment, the shadow of grief which had so +recently settled in them. Her plain cloth skirt had only utility to +recommend it. Her shirt-waist was serviceable in seasons as uncertain +as the present. The loose buckskin coat, which reached to her knees, +and had been fashioned and beaded by the Mission squaws, had +picturesqueness. But she gained nothing from these things as a setting +for her beauty. +</P> + +<P> +But for Kars, at least, her beauty was undeniable. Her soft crown of +chestnut hair, hatless, at the mercy of the mood of the breeze, to him +seemed like a ruddy halo crowning a face of a childlike purity. Her +gentle gray eyes were to him unfathomable wells of innocence, while her +lips had all the ripeness of a delicious womanhood. +</P> + +<P> +"You were scared that day we pulled into the Fort," he had said, in his +abrupt way. +</P> + +<P> +He had been talking of his going on the morrow. And the change of +subject had come something startlingly to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she admitted, almost before she was aware of it. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I guessed," he said. "I reached the office on the dead +jump—after I saw. Why? Murray had you scared. How?" +</P> + +<P> +There was no escape from the man's searching gaze. Jessie felt he was +probing irresistibly secrets she vainly sought to keep hidden. +Subterfuge was useless under that regard. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray asked me to marry him. He—asked me just then. I—wish he +hadn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" The inexorable pressure was maintained. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie tried to avoid his eyes. She sought the aid of the bubbling +waters, racing and churning amongst the branches of the fallen tree. +She would have resented such catechism even in her mother. But she was +powerless to deny this man. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she echoed at last. Suddenly she raised her eyes to his again. +They were frankly yielding. "Guess I'd rather have Murray guiding a +commercial proposition than hand me out the schedule of life." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't like him, and you're scared of him. I wonder why." +</P> + +<P> +The girl sat up. She flung back her head, and her outspread hands +supported her, resting on the tree-trunk on either side of her. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, why do you talk that way?" she protested. "Is it always your way +to drive folks? I thought that was just Murray's way. Not yours. But +you're right, anyway. I'm scared of Murray when he talks love. I'm +scared, and don't believe. I'd as lief have his hate as his love. +And—and I haven't a thing against him." +</P> + +<P> +There was a sort of desperation in the girl's whole manner of telling +of her fears. It hurt the man as he listened. But his pressure was +not idle. He was seeking corroboration of those doubts which haunted +him. Doubts which had only assailed him for the first time when he +learned of the nature of Murray's freight with John Dunne, and which +had received further support in his realization of the man's lies on +the subject of Alec. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to talk that way," he said. "I'm not yearning to drive you +any. Say, Jessie, if there's a person in this world I'd hate to drive +it's you. If there's a thing I could do to fix things easy for you, +why, a cyclone couldn't stop me fixing them that way. But I saw the +scare in your eyes through the window of that feller's office, and I +just had to know about it. I can't hand you the things tumbling around +in the back of my head. I don't know them all myself, but there's +things, and they're things I can't get quit of. Maybe some time +they'll straighten out, and when they do I'll be able to show them to +you. Meanwhile, we'll leave 'em where they are, and simply figger I'm +thinking harder than I ever thought in my life, and those thoughts are +around you, and for you, all the time." +</P> + +<P> +The simplicity of his words and manner robbed the girl of all +confusion. A great delight surged through her heart. This great +figure, this strong man, with his steady eyes and masterful methods was +setting himself her champion before the world. The lonely spirit of +the wilderness was deeply in her heart, and the sense of protection +became something too rapturous for words. +</P> + +<P> +Her frank eyes thanked him though her lips remained dumb. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm quitting to-morrow," he went on. "But I couldn't go till I'd made +a big talk with you. Bill's been on the grouch days. And Charley? +Why, Charley's come nigh raising a riot. But I had to wait—for you." +</P> + +<P> +He paused. Nor from his manner could any one have detected the depths +of emotion stirred in him. A great fear possessed him, and his heart +was burdened with the crushing weight of it. For the first time in his +life his whole future seemed to have passed into other hands. And +those hands were the brown sunburnt hands, so small, so desirable, of +this girl whose knowledge and outlook were bounded by the great +wilderness they had loved, and so often vilified together. To him it +seemed strange, yet so natural. To him it seemed that for the first +time he was learning something of the real meaning of life. Never had +he desired a thing which was beyond his power to possess. Doubt had +never been his. Now he knew that doubt was a hideous reality, and the +will of this girl could rob him beyond all hope of all that made his +life worth while. +</P> + +<P> +He drew a deep breath. It was the summoning of the last ounce of +purpose and courage in him. He flung all caution aside, he paused not +for a single word. He became the veriest suppliant at the shrine where +woman reigns supreme. +</P> + +<P> +"Y'see, Jessie, I want to tell you things. I want to tell you I love +you so that nothing else counts. I want to tell you I've been +traipsing up and down this long trail hunting around all the while for +something, and I guessed that something was—gold. So it was. I know +that now. But it wasn't the gold we men-folk start out to buy our +pleasures with. It was the sort of gold that don't lie around in +'placers.' It don't lie anywhere around in the earth. It's on top. +It walks around, and it's in a good woman's heart. Well, say," he went +on, moving towards the tree-trunk, and sitting down at the girl's side, +"I found it. Oh, yes, I found it." +</P> + +<P> +His voice had lowered to an appealing note which stirred the girl to +the depths of her soul. She sat leaning forward. Her elbows were +resting on her knees, and her hands were clasped. Her soft gray eyes +were gazing far out down the naked avenue ahead without seeing. Her +whole soul was concentrated on the radiant vision of the paradise his +words opened up before her. +</P> + +<P> +"I found it," he went on. "But it's not mine—yet. Not by a sight. +Pick an' shovel won't hand it me. The muscles that have served me so +well in the past can't help me now. I'm up against it. I guess I'm +well-nigh beat. I can't get that gold till it's handed me. And the +only hands can pass it my way are—yours." +</P> + +<P> +He reached out, and one hand gently closed over the small brown ones +clasped so tightly together. +</P> + +<P> +"Just these little hands," he continued, while the girl unresistingly +yielded to his pressure. "Say, they're not big to hold so much of the +gold I'm needing. Look at 'em," he added, gently parting them, and +turning one soft palm upwards. "But it's all there. Sure, sure. I +don't need a thing they can't hand me. Not a thing." He closed his +own hand over the upturned palm. "If I got all this little hand could +pass me there isn't a thing I couldn't do. Say, little Jessie, there's +a sort of heaven on this earth for us men-folk. It's a heaven none of +us deserve. And it lies in the soul of one woman. If she guesses to +open the gate, why, we can walk right in. It she don't choose that +way, then I guess there's only perdition waiting around to take us in. +Well, I got to those gates right now." One arm unobtrusively circled +the girl's waist, and slowly its pressure drew her towards him. "And +I'm waiting. It's all up to you. I'm just standing around. +Maybe—maybe you'll—open those gates?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's head gently inclined towards him. In a moment her lips were +clinging to his. Those ripe, soft, warm lips had answered him. +</P> + +<P> +Later—much later, when the warming sun had absorbed the fleecy screen +which had served its earlier pastime, and the spring breeze had hastily +sought new fields upon which to devote its melting efforts, Jessie +found courage to urge the single regret these moments had left her. +</P> + +<P> +"And you still need to quit—to-morrow?" she asked shyly. +</P> + +<P> +"More surely than ever." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +A smile lit the man's eyes. She was using his own pressure against +himself. +</P> + +<P> +He suddenly sprang from his seat. The girl, too, rose and stood +confronting him with questioning eyes. She was tall. For all his +great size he was powerless to rob her of one inch of the gracious form +which her mother had bestowed upon her. He held out his hands so that +they rested on her shoulders. He gazed down into her face with eyes +filled with a joy and triumph unspeakable. And he spoke out of the +buoyant strength of his heart, which was full to overflowing. +</P> + +<P> +"Because, more than ever I need to go—now. Say, my dear, there's +folks who've hurt you in this world. They've hurt you sore. I'm going +to locate 'em up here, and down at Leaping Horse. And when I've +located them they're going to pay. Do you get what that means? No. +You can't. Your gentle heart can't get it all, when men set out to +make folk who've hurt women-folk bad pay for their doings. And I'm +glad. I know. And, by God, the folk who've hurt you are going to pay +good. They're going to pay—me." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OUT-WORLD +</H3> + + +<P> +Awe was the dominating emotion. Wonder looked out of eyes that have +long become accustomed to the crude marvels of nature to be found in +the northland. The men of Kars' expedition were gazing down upon the +savage splendor of the Promised Land. +</P> + +<P> +But the milk and honey were lacking. The dream of peace, of delight +was not in these men. Their Promised Land must hold something more +substantial than the mere comforts of the body. That substance they +knew lay there, there ahead of them, but only to be won by supreme +effort against contending forces, human and natural. +</P> + +<P> +They had halted at the highest point of a great saddle lying between +two snow-crowned hills. Peaks towered mightily above the woodlands +clothing their wide slopes, and shining with alabaster splendor in the +sunlight. +</P> + +<P> +It was the first glimpse of the torn land of the ominous Bell River +gorge. +</P> + +<P> +The sight of the gorge made them dizzy. The width, the depth, left an +impression of infinite immensity upon the mind, an overwhelming +hopelessness. Men used to mountain vastness all the days of their +lives were left speechless for moments, while their searching eyes +sought to measure the limits of this long hidden land. +</P> + +<P> +The mountains beyond, about them. The broken, tumbled earth, yawning +and gaping in every direction. The forests of primordial origin. The +snows which never yield their grip upon their sterile bed. And then +the depths. Those infinite depths, which the human mind can never +regard unmoved. +</P> + +<P> +The long, toilsome journey lay behind them. The goal lay awaiting the +final desperate assault, with all its traps and hidden dangers. What a +goal to have sought. It was like the dragon-guarded storehouse of the +crudest folk-lore. +</P> + +<P> +The white men stood apart from their Indian supporters. Kars knew the +scene. He was observing the faces of the men who were gazing upon the +gorge for the first time. They were full of interest. But it was left +to Bill to interpret the general feeling in concrete form. +</P> + +<P> +"They're reckoning up the chances they've taken 'blind,'" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Then he added: "And none of them are 'squealers.' Chances +'blind,' or any others, need to be taken, or it's a long time living. +It's the thing the northland rubs into the bones." +</P> + +<P> +"Folks are certainly liable to pass it quicker that way." +</P> + +<P> +Bill's shrewd eyes twinkled as he read the reckless spirit stirring +behind the lighting eyes of his friend. +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed again. It was the buoyant laugh of a man full of the +great spirit of adventure, and whose lust is unshadowed by a single +care. +</P> + +<P> +"Chances <I>are</I> Life, Bill. All of it. The other? Why, the other's +just making a darn fool of old Prov. And I guess old Prov hates being +made a darn fool of." +</P> + +<P> +But for all Kars' reckless spirit he possessed the wide sagacity and +vigorous responsibility of a born leader. It was this which inspired +the men he gathered about him. It was this which claimed their +loyalty. It was partly this which made Bill Brudenell willingly +abandon his profitable labors in a rich city for the hardship of a life +at his friend's side. Perhaps the other part was that somewhere under +Bill's hardly acquired philosophy there lurked a spirit in perfect +sympathy with that which actuated the younger man. There was not a day +passed but he deplored to himself the stupendous waste of energy and +time involved. But he equally reveled in outraging his better sense, +and defying the claims of his life in Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +No less than Kars he reveled in the sight of the battle-field which lay +before them. +</P> + +<P> +Abe Dodds and Saunders gazed upon it, too. It was their first sight of +it, and their view-points found prompt expression, each in his own way. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, this place kind o' makes you feel old Dante was a libelous guy +who'd oughter be sent to penitentiary," Abe remarked pensively. "Guess +we'll likely find old whiskers waiting around with his boat when we get +on down to the river. Still, it's consoling to figger up the cost o' +coaling hell north of 'sixty.'" +</P> + +<P> +An unsmiling nod of agreement came from his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Makes me feel I bin soused weeks," he said earnestly. He pointed down +at the forbidding walls enclosing the river. "That's jest mist around +ther', ain't it? It ain't—smoke nor nothin'. An' them hills an' +things. They are hills? They ain't the rim of a darn fool pit that +ain't got bottom to it? An' them folks—movin' around down there. +They are folks? They ain't—things?" +</P> + +<P> +Both men laughed. But their amusement was wide-eyed and wondering. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' half military caravan labored its way forward. It made its own +path through virgin woodland breaks, which had known little else than +wild or Indian life since the world began. There were muskegs to +avoid. Broken stretches of tundra, trackless, treacherous. Cruel +traps which only patience, labor, skill and great courage could avoid. +Apart from all chances of hostile welcome the Bell River approaches +claimed all the mental and physical sweat of man. +</P> + +<P> +The movements of the outfit if slow were sure, and seemingly +inevitable. The days of labor were followed by nights of watchful +anxiety and council. Nature's batteries were against them. But the +lurking human danger was even more serious in the minds of these men. +Nature they knew. They had learned her arts of war, and their counters +were studied, and the outcome of fierce experience. But the other was +new, or, at least, sufficiently new to require the straining of every +nerve to meet it successfully, should it come. They were under no +delusions on the subject. Come it would. How? Where? But more than +all—when? +</P> + +<P> +For all their skill, for all their well-thought organization, these men +could not hope to escape scathless against the forces of nature opposed +to them. They lost horses in the miry hollows. The surgical skill of +Dr. Bill was frequently needed for the drivers and packmen. There was +a toll of material, too. +</P> + +<P> +The land seemed scored with narrow chasms, the cause of which was +beyond all imagination. There were cul-de-sacs which possessed no +seeming rhyme or reason. Time and again the advancing scout party, +seeking the better road, found itself trapped in valleys of muskeg with +no other outlet than the way by which it had entered. Wherever the eye +searched, rugged rock facets, with ragged patches of vegetation growing +in the crevices confronted them. It was a maze of desolation, and +magnificent hills and forests of primordial growth. It was as crude +and half complete in the days when the waters first receded. +</P> + +<P> +But the lure of the precious metal was in every heart. Even Kars lay +under its fascination once more, now that the strenuous goal lay within +sight. He knew it was there, and in great quantities. And, for all +the saner purposes he had in his mind, its influence made itself deeply +felt. +</P> + +<P> +The gold seeker, be he master or wage earner, is beyond redemption. +Murray McTavish had said that all men north of "sixty" were wage +slaves. He might have included all the world. But the truth of his +assertion was beyond all question. Not a man in the outfit Kars had +organized but was a wage slave, down to the least civilized Indian who +labored under a pack. +</P> + +<P> +Bodily ease counted for nothing. These men were inured to all +hardship. They were men who had committed themselves to a war against +the elements, a war against all that opposed them in their hunger for +the wage they were determined to tear from the frigid bosom of an earth +which they regarded as the vulture regards carrion. +</P> + +<P> +The days of labor were long and many. Hardship piled up on hardship, +as it ever does in the spring of the northland. There was no ease for +leader or man. Only labor, unceasing, terrific. +</P> + +<P> +Kars moved aside from the Bell River Indian encampment. He passed to +the west of it, beyond all sight of the workings he had explored on the +memorable night of his discovery. And he took the gorge from the +north, seeking its heart for his camp, on the wide foreshore beyond the +dumps of pay dirt which had first yielded him their secret. +</P> + +<P> +It was a movement which precluded all possibility of legitimate +protest. And since this territory was all unscheduled in the +government of the Yukon, it was his for just as long as he could hold +it. The whole situation was treated as though no other white influence +were at work. It was treated as a peaceful invasion of Indian +territory, and, as is usual in such circumstances, the Indian was +ignored. It was an illustration of white domination. In Bill +Brudenell's words "they were throwing a big bluff." +</P> + +<P> +But for all their ignoring of the Indians, the outfit was under the +closest observation. There was not a moment, not a foot of its way, +that was not watched over by eyes that saw, and for the most part +remained unseen. But this invisibility was not always the rule. +Indians in twos and threes were frequently encountered. They were the +undersized northern Indian of low type, who had none of the splendid +manhood of the tribes further south. But each man was armed with a +more or less modern rifle, and garments of crudely manufactured furs +replaced the romantic buckskin of their southern brethren. +</P> + +<P> +These men came round the camps at night. They foregathered silently, +and watched, with patient interest, the work going on. They offered no +friendship or welcome. They made no attempt to fraternize in any way. +Their unintelligent faces were a complete blank, in so far as they +displayed any understanding of what they beheld. +</P> + +<P> +The men of the outfit were in nowise deceived. They knew the purpose +of these visits. These creatures were there to learn all that could +serve the purposes of their leaders. They were testing the strength of +these invaders. And they were permitted to prosecute their +investigations without hindrance. It was part of the policy Kars had +decided upon. The "bluff," as Bill had characterized it, was to be +carried through till the enemy "called." +</P> + +<P> +Two weeks from the day when the gorge had been sighted, the permanent +camp was completely established. Furthermore, the work of the gold +"prospect" had been begun under the fierce energy of Abe Dodds, and the +thirst-haunted Saunders. Theirs it was to explore and test the great +foreshore, and to set up the crude machinery. +</P> + +<P> +The first day's report was characteristic of the mining engineer. He +returned to his chief, who was organizing the camp with a view to +eventualities. There was a keen glitter in his hollow eyes as he made +his statement. There was a nervous restraint in his whole manner. He +chewed unmercifully as he made his unconventional statement. +</P> + +<P> +"The whole darn place is full of 'color,'" he said. "Ther' ain't any +sort o' choice anywhere, 'less you set up machinery fer the sake o' the +scenery." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll set up the sluices where we can best protect them," was +Kars' prompt order. +</P> + +<P> +So the work proceeded with orderly haste. +</P> + +<P> +Further up the stream the Indians swarmed about their "placers." Their +washings went on uninterruptedly. They, too, were playing a hand, with +doubtless a keen head controlling it. The invasion seemed to trouble +them not one whit. But this steady industry, and aloofness, was ample +warning for the newcomers. It was far more deeply significant than any +prompt display of hostility. +</P> + +<P> +Kars spared neither himself nor his men. Every soul of his outfit knew +they were passing through the moments immediately preceding the battle +which must be fought out. Each laborious day was succeeded by a night +which concealed possible terrors. Each golden sunrise might yield to +the blood-red sunset of merciless war. And the odds were wide against +them, and could only be bridged by determination and skilful +leadership. Great, however, as the odds were, these men were before +all things gold seekers, all of them, white and colored, and they were +ready to face them, they were ready to face anything in the world for +the golden wage they demanded. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was nearing the end of the first week. The mining operations were +in full swing under the guidance of Abe Dodds and Saunders. Kars and +Bill were left free to regard only the safety of the enterprise, and to +complete the preparations for defence. To this end they were out on an +expedition of investigation. +</P> + +<P> +Their investigations had taken them across the river directly opposite +the camp. The precipitous walls of the gorge at this point were clad +in dark woods which rose almost from the water's edge. But these woods +were not the only thing which demanded attention. There was a water +inlet to the river hidden amongst their dark aisles. Furthermore, high +up, overlooking the river, a wide ledge stood out from the wall, and +that which had been discovered upon it was not without suspicion in +their minds. +</P> + +<P> +For some moments after landing Kars stood looking back across the +river. His searching gaze was taking in every detail of the defences +he had set up across the water. When he finally turned it was to +observe the watercourse cascading down a great rift in the walls of the +gorge. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess this is the weak link, Bill," he said. "It's a way down to the +water's edge. The only way down in a stretch of two miles on this +side. And it's plumb in front of us." +</P> + +<P> +Bill nodded agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. And that queer old shack half-way up. We best make that right +away." +</P> + +<P> +The canoe was hauled clear of the racing stream, and left secure. Then +they moved up the rocky foreshore where the inlet had cut its way +through the heart of the woods. +</P> + +<P> +It was a curious, almost cavernous opening. Nor was there a detail of +it that was not water-worn as far up the confining walls of drab rock +as the eyes could see. +</P> + +<P> +Once within the entrance, however, the scene was completely changed, +and robbed of the general sternness which prevailed outside. It was +not without some charm. +</P> + +<P> +The split was far greater than had seemed from the distance. It was a +tumbled mass of tremendous boulders, amidst which the forest of +primordial pines found root room where none seemed possible, and craned +their ragged heads towards the light so far above them. And, in the +midst of this confusion, the mountain stream poured down from heights +above, droning out its ceaseless song of movement in a cadence that +seemed wholly out of place amidst such surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +The whole place was burdened under a semi-twilight, induced by the +crowning foliage so frantically jealous of its rights. Of undergrowth +there was no vestige. Only the deep carpet of cones and pine needles, +which clogged the crevices, and frequently concealed pitfalls for the +steps of those sufficiently unwary. This, and a general saturation +from the spray of the falling waters, left the upward climb something +more than arduous. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly an hour later when the two men stood on the narrow +plateau cut in the side of the gorge, and overlooking the great river. +It yielded a perfect view of the vastness of the amazing reach. +</P> + +<P> +Below them, out of the solid walls, wherever root-hold offered, the +lean pines thrust their crests to a level with them. Above, where the +slope of the gorge fell back at an easier angle, black forests covered +the whole face for hundreds of feet towards the cloud-flecked skies. +</P> + +<P> +These men, however, were all unconcerned with the depths or the +heights, for all their dizzy splendor. A habitation stood before them +sheltered by a burnt and tumbled stockade. And to practical +imagination it held a significance which might have deep enough meaning. +</P> + +<P> +They stood contemplating the litter for some moments. And in those +moments it told them a story of attack and defence, and finally of +defeat. The disaster to the defenders was clearly told, and the +question in both their minds was the identity of those defeated. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars approached the charred pile where it formed the least +obstruction, and his eyes searched the staunch but dilapidated shack, +with its flat roof. Battered, it still stood intact, hard set against +the slope of the hill. Its green log walls were barkless. They were +weather-worn to a degree that suggested many, many years and cruel +seasons. But its habitable qualities were clearly apparent. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell was searching in closer detail. It was the difference +between the two men. It was the essential difference in their +qualities of mind. He was the first to break the silence between them. +</P> + +<P> +"Get a look," he said abruptly. "There! There! And there! All over +the darn old face of it. Bullet holes. Hundreds of them. And +seemingly from every direction. Say, it must have been a beautiful +scrap." +</P> + +<P> +"And the defenders got licked—poor devils." +</P> + +<P> +Kars was pointing down at the strewn bones lying amongst the fallen +logs. Beyond them, inside the boundary of the stockade lay a skull, a +human skull, as clean and whitened as though centuries had passed since +it lost contact with the frame which had supported it. +</P> + +<P> +Bill moved to it. His examination was close and professional. +</P> + +<P> +"Indian," he said at last, and laid it back on the ground with almost +reverent care. +</P> + +<P> +He turned his eyes upon the shanty once more. Two other piles of human +bones, picked as clean as carrion birds could leave them, passed under +his scrutiny, but he was no longer concerned with them. The hut +absorbed his whole interest now, and he moved towards its open doorway +with Kars at his heels. They passed within. +</P> + +<P> +As their eyes grew accustomed to the indifferent light, more of the +story of the place was set out for their reading. There were some +ammunition boxes. There were odds and ends of camp truck. But nothing +of any value remained, and the fact suggested, in combination with the +other signs, the looting of a victorious foe. +</P> + +<P> +Kars was the first to offer comment. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you guess it's possible——?" +</P> + +<P> +"Allan held this shack?" Bill nodded. "These are all white men signs. +Those ammunition boxes. They're the same as we've loaded up at the +Fort many times. Sure. Allan held this shack, but he didn't die here. +Murray found what was left of him down below, way down the river. +Maybe he held this till his stores got low. Then he made a dash for +it, and—found it. It makes me sick thinking. Let's get out." +</P> + +<P> +He turned away to the door and Kars followed him. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had nothing to add. The picture of that hopeless fight left him +without desire to investigate further. It was almost the last fight of +the man who had made the happiness he now contemplated possible. His +heart bled for the girl who he knew had well-nigh worshiped her "daddy." +</P> + +<P> +But Bill did not pass the doorway. At that moment the sharp crack of a +rifle split the air, and set the echoes of the gorge screaming. A +second later there was the vicious "spat" of a bullet on the sorely +tried logs of the shack. He stepped back under cover. But not before +a second shot rang out, and another bullet struck, and ricochetted, +hurtling through the air to lose itself in the pine woods above him. +</P> + +<P> +"The play's started," was his undisturbed comment. +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded and his eyes lit. The emotions of the moment before had +fallen from him. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" he exclaimed. "Now for Mister Louis Creal." +</P> + +<P> +Bill turned, and his twinkling eyes were thoughtful as they regarded +his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es." +</P> + +<P> +But Kars was paying small attention. His eyes were shining with a +light such as is only seen in those who contemplate the things their +heart is set upon. In his mind there was no doubt, only conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"We're not fighting those poor, darn-fool neches who fired those +shots," he cried in a sudden break from his usual reticence. "Maybe +they're the force but they aren't the brain. The brain behind this +play is Mister Louis Creal. Say, this thing's bigger than we guessed. +This Louis Creal runs these workings. Guess he's been running them +since the beginning. He's been running them in some sort of +partnership with the men at the Fort. He was Allan's partner, if I'm +wise to anything. He was Allan's partner and Murray's. And Allan was +murdered right here. He was murdered by these poor darn neches. And +the brain behind them was Louis Creal's. Do you get it now? Oh, it's +easy. That half-breed's turned, as they always turn when it suits +them. He's turned on his partners. And Murray knows it. That's why +Murray's got in his arms. It's clear as daylight. There's a +three-cornered scrap coming. Murray's going to clean out this outfit, +or lose his grip on the gold lying on this river for the picking up. +And Murray don't figger to lose a thing without a mighty big kick—and +not gold anyway. This feller, Creal, located us, and figgers to wipe +us off his slate. See? Say, Bill, I guessed long ago Bell River was +going to hand us some secrets. I guessed it would tell us how Allan +Mowbray died. Well, Louis Creal's going to pay. He's going to pay +good. Murray's wise. Gee, I can't but admire. Another feller would +have shouted. Another feller would have told the womenfolk all he +discovered when he found Allan Mowbray murdered. Can't you get his +play? He was Allan's friend. He kind of hoped to marry Jessie—some +day. He worked the whole thing out. He guessed he'd scare Mrs. +Mowbray and Jessie to death if he told them all that had happened. He +didn't want them scared, or they might quit the place. So he just +blamed the neches, and let if go at that. He handled the proposition +himself. There was Alec. He didn't guess it would be good Alec +butting in. Alec, for all he's Jessie's brother, wasn't bright. He +might get killed even. He'd be in the way—anyway. So he got him +clear of the Fort. Then he got a free hand. He shipped in an arsenal +of weapons, and he's going to outfit a big force. He's coming along up +here later, and it'll be him and Creal to the death. And it's odds on +Murray. Then the folk at the Fort can help themselves all they need, +and the world won't be any the wiser. It's a great play. But Alec's +death has queered it some. Do you get it—all? It's clear—clear as +daylight." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es." Again came that hesitating affirmative. But then Bill was +older, and perhaps less impressionable. +</P> + +<P> +Again Kars missed the hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Good," he said. "Now we'll get busy. Maybe we'll save Murray a deal +of trouble. He'd got me worried. I was half guessing——" He broke +off and sighed as though in relief. "But I've got it clear enough now. +And Louis Creal'll have to reckon with me first. We'll make back to +camp." +</P> + +<P> +Bill offered no comment. He watched the great figure of his companion +move towards the door. Nor was the nerve of the man without deep +effect upon him. Kars passed out on to the open plateau and instantly +a rain of bullets spat their vicious purpose all about him. Even as +Bill stepped out after him his feelings were absorbed in his admiration +of the other. +</P> + +<P> +The shots continued. They all came from the same direction, from the +woods across the river, somewhere just above their camp. It was Indian +firing. Its character was unmistakable. It was erratic, and many of +the shots failed hopelessly to reach the plateau at all. +</P> + +<P> +The movements of the two men were rapid without haste, and, as they +left the plateau, the firing ceased. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +An hour later they were walking up the foreshore to their camp, and the +canoe was hauled up out of the water. The sluices were in full work +under the watchful eye of Abe Dodds. The thirsty Saunders was driving +his gang at the placers, from which was being drawn a stream of pay +dirt that never ceased from daylight to dark. They had heard the +firing, as had the whole camp, and they had wondered. But for the +present their responsibility remained with their labors. The safe +return of Kars and his companion nevertheless afforded keen +satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +Bill smiled as they moved up towards their quarters. Curiously enough +the recent events seemed to have lightened his mood. Perhaps it was +the passing of a period of doubt. Perhaps the reconstruction of +Murray's doings, which Kars had set out so clearly, had had its effect. +It was impossible to say, for his shrewd eyes rarely told more than he +intended them to. +</P> + +<P> +"Makes you feel good when the other feller starts right in to play his +'hand,'" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kars looked into the smiling face. He recognized in this man, whose +profession should have robbed him of all the elemental attributes, and +whose years should have suggested a desire for the ease of a successful +life, a real fighter of the long trail, and his heart warmed. +</P> + +<P> +"Makes you feel better when you know none of your 'suits' are weak," he +replied. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEPUTATION +</H3> + + +<P> +Kars was asleep. He was in the deep slumber of complete weariness in +the shanty which had been erected for his quarters, and was shared by +Bill. The bed was a mere pile of blankets spread out on a rough log +trestle which sufficiently raised it from the ground. +</P> + +<P> +It was a mean enough habitation. But it was substantial. Furthermore, +it was weather-proof, which was all these men required. Then, too, it +was set up in a position on the higher ground whence it overlooked the +whole camp, with a full view of the sluices, and the operations going +on about them. Adjacent were the stores, and the kitchens, all +sheltered by projections of the rocky foreshore, so that substantial +cover against hostile attack was afforded them. +</P> + +<P> +While Kars slept the defensive preparations he had designed were being +carried out feverishly under the watchful eyes of Bill and Abe Dodds, +with Joe Saunders a vigorous lieutenant. He had planned for every +possible emergency. Embankments of pay dirt were erected and +strengthened by green logs. Loopholes were arranged for concentrated +defence in any one direction. The water supply was there open to them, +direct from the river, which, in its turn, afforded them a safeguard +from a purely frontal attack. The Bell River Indians were no great +water men, so the chief defences were set up flanking along the shore. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had spent a day and two nights in unceasing labor, and now, at +last, the claims of nature would no longer be denied. He had fallen +asleep literally at his work. So the watchful doctor had accepted the +responsibility. And the great body was left to the repose which made +so small a claim upon it. +</P> + +<P> +There was no man who could fight harder than John Kars, there was no +man who could fight more intelligently. Just as no man could fight +fairer. He accepted all conditions as he found them, and met them as +necessity demanded. But all that was rugged in him remained untainted +through the years of his sojourn beyond the laws of civilization. +There were a hundred ways by which he could have hoped to survive. But +only one suited his temperament. Then he had closed the doors of +civilization behind him. He had metaphorically burnt his text-books, +if he ever really possessed any. He viewed nothing through the +pleasantly tinted glasses such as prevail where cities are swept and +garnished daily, and bodily comfort is counted more to be desired than +God-fear. He forgot that law and order must be paid for by a yearly +toll in currency. But he never failed to remember that a temple had +been raised in the human heart, erected firmly on the ashes of savagery. +</P> + +<P> +"Now for Mister Louis Creal!" +</P> + +<P> +It was the situation as he saw it. He by no means underrated the +threat of the Indians. But he drove straight to the root of the +matter. He believed the Indians had been bought body and soul by this +bastard white for his own ends. And his own end was the gold of Bell +River. It was his purpose to destroy all competition. He had murdered +one partner, or perhaps employer. He hoped, no doubt, to treat the +other white man similarly. Now he meant a similar mischief by this new +threat to his monopoly. Kars felt it was characteristic of the bastard +races. Well, he was ready for the fight. He had sought it. +</P> + +<P> +With that first enemy attempt on the plateau events moved rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +But they so moved on Kars' initiative. It was not his way to sit down +at the enemy's pleasure. His was the responsibility for the eighty men +who had responded to his call. He accepted it. He knew it would +demand every ounce of courage and energy he could put forth. His wits +were to be pitted against wits no less. The fate of Allan Mowbray, a +man far beyond the average in courage and capacity among men of the +long trail, told him this. So he had worked, and would work, to the +end. +</P> + +<P> +"The play's started good, boys," he had said to his white companions on +his return to the camp. "The gold can wait, I guess, till we've wiped +out this half-breed outfit. It's a game I know good, an' I'm going to +play it for a mighty big 'jack-pot.' It's up to you to hand me all I +need. After that the gold's open to all." +</P> + +<P> +Then he detailed the various preparations to be made at once, and +allotted to each man his task. He spoke sharply but without urgency. +And the simplicity of his ideas saved the least confusion. It was only +to Bill that his plans seemed hardly to fit with that cordial +appreciation which he had given expression to on the plateau. "Now for +Mister Louis Creal." So he had said. Yet all the plans were defensive +rather than offensive. +</P> + +<P> +Later this doubt found expression. +</P> + +<P> +"What about Louis Creal?" Bill asked in his direct fashion. +</P> + +<P> +And Kars' reply was a short, hard laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"That feller's for me," he replied shortly. +</P> + +<P> +That night a second trip was made across the river. This time with a +canoe laden with a small party of armed men. It was Kars who led, +while Bill remained behind in command of the camp. +</P> + +<P> +This mission was one of remorseless purpose. It was perhaps the most +difficult decision that Kars had had to force himself to. It hurt him. +It was a decision for the destruction of the things he loved. To him +it was like an assault against the great ruling powers of the Creator, +and the sin of it left him troubled in heart and conscience. Yet he +knew the necessity of it. None better. So he executed it, as he would +have executed any other operation necessary in loyalty to the men +supporting him and his purpose. +</P> + +<P> +It was midnight when the paddles dipped again for the return to the +camp, and the return journey was made under a light which had no origin +in any of the heavenly bodies, nor in the fantastic measure danced by +the brilliant northern lights. It was the blaze of a forest fire which +lit the gorge from end to end, and filled the air with a ruddy fog of +smoke, which reeked in the nostrils and set throats choking. +</P> + +<P> +It had been deliberately planned. The wind was favorable for safety +and success. It was blowing gently from the west. The fire was +started in six places, and the resinous pines which had withstood +centuries of storms yielded to the devouring flames with an ardent +willingness that was pitiful. The forests crowning the opposite walls +of the gorge were a desperate threat to the camp. They had to be made +useless to the enemy. They must be swept away, and to accomplish this +fire was the only means. +</P> + +<P> +Kars watched the dreadful devastation from the camp. His eyes were +thoughtful, troubled. He was paying the price which his desire for +achievement required. +</P> + +<P> +The dark of night was swept away by a furnace of flame. The waters of +the river reflected the glare, till they took on a suggestion of liquid +fire. The gloom of the gorge had passed, and left it a raging furnace, +and the fierceness of the heat beaded men's foreheads as they stood at +a distance with eyes filled with awe. +</P> + +<P> +Where would it end? A forest fire in a land of little else but forest +and waste. It was a question Kars dared not contemplate. So he thrust +it aside. And herein lay the difference between Bill Brudenell and +himself. Bill could contemplate the destruction from its necessity, +while a sort of sentimental terror claimed his imagination and forced +this question upon him. He felt that only the wind and Providence +could answer it. If the links were there, beyond those frowning +crests, between forest and forest, and the wind drifted favorably, the +fire might burn for years. It would be impossible to say where the +last sparks would burn themselves out. It was another of the tragedies +to be set at the door of man's quest of gold. +</P> + +<P> +"Makes you feel Nature's score against man's mounting big," he said, in +a tone there could be no mistaking. "Seems that's going to hurt her +mighty bad. She'll hit back one day. Centuries it's taken her +building that way. She's nursed it in the hollows, and made it strong +on the hills. She's made it good, and set it out for man's use. And +man's destroyed her work because he's got a hide he guesses to keep +whole. It's all a fearful contradiction. There doesn't seem much +sense to life anyway. And still the scheme goes right on, and I don't +guess a single blamed purpose is lost. Gee, I hate it." +</P> + +<P> +The truth of Bill's words struck home on Kars. But he had no reply. +He hated it, too. +</P> + +<P> +The roar of flame went on all night. The boom of falling trees. The +splitting and rending. The heat was sickening. Those who sought sleep +lay bare to the night air, for blankets were beyond endurance. Then +the smoke which clung to the open jaws of the gorge. The night breeze +seemed powerless to carry it away. +</P> + +<P> +With the outbreak of fire the Indian workings further up the river +awoke, too. A few stray figures foregathered at the water's edge. +Their numbers were quickly augmented. Long before the night was spent +a great crowd was watching the fierce destruction of the haunts which +it had known for generations. Fire is the Indian terror. And in the +heart of these benighted creatures a superstitious awe of it remains at +all times. Now they were panic-stricken. +</P> + +<P> +Towards morning the fire passed out of the gorge. It swept over the +crests of the enclosing hills and passed on, nursed by the fanning of +the western breeze. And as it passed away, and the booming and roaring +became more and more distant, so did the smoke-laden atmosphere begin +to clear. But a tropical heat remained behind for many hours. Even +the northland chill of spring failed to temper it rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had achieved his purpose. No cover remained for any lurking foe. +The hills across the river were "snatched" bald. Charred and +smoldering timbers lay sprawling in every direction upon the red-hot +carpet. Blackened stumps stood up, tombstones of the splendid woods +that once had been. There was no cover anywhere. None at all. No +lurking rifle could find a screen from behind which to pour death upon +the busy camp across the waters. The position was reversed. The +watchful defenders held the whole of those bald walls at the mercy of +their rifles. It was a strategic victory for the defenders, but it had +been purchased at a terrible cost. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' dreamless slumber was broken at last by the sharp voice of Bill +Brudenell, and the firm grip of a hand upon his shoulder. He awoke on +the instant, his mind alert, clear, reasoning. He had slept for ten +hours and all sense of fatigue had passed. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I've slept good," was his first exclamation, as he sat up on his +blankets. Then his alert eyes glanced swiftly into the face before +him. "What's the time? And what's—doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's gone midday. And—there's visitors calling." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' attitude was one of intentness. +</P> + +<P> +"They started attacking?" he demanded. "I don't hear a thing." +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his bed, moved down to the doorway and stood gazing out. +His gaze encountered a group of men clustered together at a short +distance from the hut. He recognized Peigan Charley. He recognized +Abe Dodds, lean and silent. He recognized one or two of his own +fighting men. But there were others he did not recognize. And one of +them was an old, old weazened up Indian of small stature and squalid +appearance. +</P> + +<P> +"Visitors?" he said, without turning. +</P> + +<P> +Bill came up behind him. +</P> + +<P> +"A deputation," he said. "An old chief and three young men. They've +got a neche with them who talks 'white.' And they're not going to quit +till they've held a big pow-wow with the white chief, Kars. They've +got his name good. I'd say Louis Creal's got them well primed." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Kars glanced round the hut. And a half smile lit his eyes at the +meagre condition of the place. Bill's bed occupied one side of it. +His own the other. Between the two stood a packing case on end, which +served as a table. A bucket of drinking water stood in a corner with a +beaker beside it. For the rest there was a kit bag for a pillow at the +head of each bed, while underneath were ammunition cases filled with +rifle and revolver ammunition, and the walls were decorated with a +whole arsenal of weapons. But it lost nothing in its businesslike +aspect, and Kars felt that its impression would not be lost upon his +visitors. +</P> + +<P> +"The council chamber," he said. "Have 'em come right along, Bill. +Maybe they're going to hand us Louis Creal's bluff. Well, I guess +we're calling any old bluff. If they're looking for what they can +locate of our preparations they'll find all they need. They'll get an +elegant tale to hand Louis Creal when they get back." +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later the capacity of the hut was taxed to its utmost. +Kars was seated on the side of his bed. Bill and Abe Dodds occupied +the other. The earth floor, from the foot of the bunks to the door, +was littered by a group of squatting figures clad in buckskin and +cotton blanket, and exhaling an aroma without which no Indian council +chamber is complete, and which is as offensive as it is pungent. +Peigan Charley, the contemptuous, blocked up the doorway ready at a +moment's notice to carry out any orders his "boss" might choose to give +him, and living in the hopes that such orders, when they came, might at +least demand violence towards these "damn neches" who had dared to +invade the camp. +</P> + +<P> +But his hopes were destined to remain unfulfilled. His boss was +talking easily, and in a friendliness which disgusted his retainer. He +seemed to be even deferring to this aged scallawag of a chief, as +though he were some one of importance. That was one of Charley's +greatest grievances against his chief. He was always too easy with +"damn-fool neches." Charley felt that these miserable creatures should +be "all shot up dead." Worse would come if these "coyotes" were +allowed to go free. There was no such thing as murder in his mind as +regards his own race. Only killing—which was, at all times, not only +justifiable, but a necessity. +</P> + +<P> +"The great Chief Thunder-Cloud is very welcome," Kars responded to the +interpreter's translation of the introduction. "Guess he's the big +chief of Bell River. The wise man of his people. And I'm sure he's +come right along to talk—in the interests of peace. Good. We're +right here for peace, too. Maybe Thunder-Cloud's had a look at the +camp as he came in. It's a peaceful camp, just set right here to chase +gold. No doubt his people, who've been around since we came, have told +him that way, too." +</P> + +<P> +As the white man's words were translated to him, the old Indian blinked +his inflamed eyes, from which the lids and under-lids seemed to be +falling away as a result of his extreme age. He wagged his head gently +as though fearful of too great effort, and his sagging lips made a +movement suggesting an approving expression, but failed physically to +carry out his intent. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was studying that senile, expressionless face. The skin hung +loose and was scored with creases like crumpled parchment. The low +forehead so deeply furrowed. The small eyes so offensive in their +inflamed condition. The almost toothless jaws which the lips refused +to cover. It was a hateful presence with nothing of the noble red man +about it. It was with relief he turned to the younger examples of what +this man had once been. +</P> + +<P> +But the chief was talking in that staccato, querulous fashion of old +age, and his white audience was waiting for the interpreter. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long time before the result came. When it did it was in the +scantiest of pigeon English. +</P> + +<P> +"Him much pleased with white man coming," said the interpreter with +visible effort at cordiality. "The great Chief Thunder-Cloud much good +friend to white man. Much good friend. Him say young men fierce—very +fierce. They fish plenty. They say white man come—no fish. White +man come, Indian man mak' much hungry. No fish. White man eat 'em all +up. Young man mak' much talk—very fierce. Young man say white man +burn up land. Indians no hunt. So. Indian man starve. Indian come. +Young men kill 'em all up dead. Or Indian man starve. So. White man +come, Indian man starve, too. White man go, Indian man eat plenty. +White man go?" +</P> + +<P> +The solemn eyes of the Indians were watching the white man's face with +expressionless intensity. They were striving to read where their +language failed them. Kars gave no sign. His eyes were steadily +regarding the wreck of humanity described as a "great chief." +</P> + +<P> +"White man burn the land because neche try to kill white man," he said +after a moment's consideration, in level, unemotional tones. "White +man come in peace. He want no fish. He want no hunt. He want only +gold—and peace. White man not go. White man stay. If Indian kill, +white man kill, too. White man kill up all Indian, if Indian kill +white man. Louis Creal sit by his teepee. He say white man come Louis +Creal not get gold. He say to Indian go kill up white man. White man +great friends with Indian. He good friend with Louis Creal, if Louis +Creal lies low. Indian man very fierce. White man very fierce, too. +If great Chief Thunder-Cloud not hold young men, then he soon find out. +Louis Creal, too. Much war come. Much blood. White man make most +killing. So." +</P> + +<P> +He waited while his reply was passed on to the decrepit creature, who, +for all his age and physical disability, was complete master of his +emotions. Thunder-Cloud listened and gave no sign. +</P> + +<P> +Then he spoke again. This time his talk was briefer and the +interpreter's task seemed easier. +</P> + +<P> +"Great Chief say him sorry for white man talk. Him come. Him good +friend to white man. Him old. Him very old. White man not go. Then +him say him finish. Him mak' wise talk to young men. Young men +listen. No good. Young men impatient. Young men say speak white man. +Speak plenty. Him not go? Then young man kill 'em all dead. So. +Thunder-Cloud sorry. Heap sorry." +</P> + +<P> +A shadowy smile flitted across Kars' rugged face. It found a +reflection in the faces of all his comrades. Even Charley's contempt +found a similar expression. +</P> + +<P> +Kars abruptly stood up. His great size brought him within inches of +the low, flat roof. His eyes had suddenly hardened. His strong jaws +were set. He no longer addressed himself to the aged chief. His eyes +were directed squarely into the eyes of the mean-looking interpreter. +Nor did he use any pigeon English to express himself now. +</P> + +<P> +"See right here, you neche," he cried, his tones strong, and full of +restrained force. "You can hand this on to that darn old bunch of +garbage you call a great chief. The play Louis Creal figgers on is +played right out. He murdered Allan Mowbray to keep this gold to +himself. Well, this gold ain't his, any more than it's mine. It's for +those who got the grit to take it. If he's looking for fight he's +going to get it plenty—maybe more than he's needing. We're taking no +chances. We're right here to fight—if need be. We're here to stop. +We're no quitters. We'll go when we fancy, and when we do the news of +this strike goes with us. Louis Creal tried to murder me here, and +failed, and took a bath instead. Well, if he's hoss sense he'll get it +his game's played. If he don't see it that way, he best do all he +knows. You an' this darn old scallawag have got just five minutes to +hit the trail clear of this camp. The whole outfit of you. Guess you +wouldn't get that much time only for the age of this bunch of the +tailings of a misspent life. Clear. Clear quick—the whole darn +outfit." +</P> + +<P> +All the dignity and formality of an Indian pow-wow were banished in a +moment. The interpreter conveyed the briefest gist of the white man's +words, even as he hastily scrambled to his feet. Kars' tone and manner +had impressed him as forcibly as his words. He was eager enough to get +away. The old man, too, was on his feet far quicker than might have +been expected, and he was making for the door with ludicrous haste, +which robbed his going of any of the ceremony with which he had entered +it. +</P> + +<P> +Charley stood aside, but with an air of protest. He would willingly +have robbed the old man of his last remaining locks. +</P> + +<P> +The hut was cleared, and the white men emerged into the open. The air +which still reeked of burning was preferable to the unwholesome stench +which these bestial northern Indians exhaled. +</P> + +<P> +They stood watching the precipitate retreat of their visitors. The +whole camp was agog, and looked on curiously. Even the Indian packmen +were stirred out of their usual indifference to things beyond their +labors. +</P> + +<P> +Bill laughed as the old man vanished beyond the piles of pay dirt, +which had been converted into defences. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess he's worried some," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Abe Dodds chewed and spat. +</P> + +<P> +"Worried? Gee, that don't say a thing—not a thing. Guess that old +guy ain't had a shake up like that since he first choked himself with +gravel when his momma wa'n't around. I allow Louis Creal, whoever he +is, is going to get an earful that'll nigh bust his drums." +</P> + +<P> +But Kars had no responsive smile. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll be on us by nightfall," he said quietly. "We need to get +busy." Then he suddenly called out. His voice was stern and +threatening. "Quit that, Charley! Quit it or by——!" +</P> + +<P> +His order came in the nick of time. All the pent-up spleen and hatred +of Peigan Charley had culminated in an irresistible desire. He had +seized a rifle from one of the camp Indians standing by, and had flung +himself on the banked up defences. Even as his boss shouted, his eye +was running over the sights, and his finger was on the trigger. +</P> + +<P> +He flung the weapon aside with a gesture of fierce disgust, and stood +scowling after the hurrying deputation, his heart tortured with the +injustice of his chief in robbing him of the joy of sheer murder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER +</H3> + + +<P> +The dark of night was creeping up the gorge. A gray sky, still heavy +with the smoke of the forest fire, made its progress easy and rapid. +The black walls nursed its efforts, yielding their influence upon the +deep valley below them. No star could penetrate the upper cloud banks. +The new-born moon was lost beyond the earth-inspired canopy. +</P> + +<P> +The fires of the great camp were out. No light was visible anywhere. +The fighting men were at their posts on the flanking embankments. +Reserves were gathered, smoking and talking in the hush of expectancy. +Further afield an outpost held the entrance to the gorge to the north +of the camp. A steep rugged split deeply wooded and dropping sharply +from the heights above to the great foreshore. It was an admirable +point to hold. No living soul could approach the camp from above that +way without running the gauntlet of the ambushed rifles in skilful +hands. No rush could make the passage, only costly effort. Nature had +seen to that. +</P> + +<P> +The white men leaders of the camp were squatting about the doorway of +the shanty which had witnessed the brief interview with the chief, +Thunder-Cloud. Kars occupied the sill of the doorway. His great body +in its thick pea-jacket nearly filled it up. Talk was spasmodic. Kars +had little enough inclination, and the others seemed to have exhausted +thought upon the work of preparations. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' thoughts were far away at the bald knoll of Fort Mowbray, and the +little Mission nestling at its foot. Out of the gray shadows of +twilight a pair of soft eyes were gazing pitifully into his, as he had +seen them gaze in actual life. His mind was passing over the tragic +incidents which had swept down upon that ruddy brown head with such +merciless force, and a tender pity made him shrink before his thought, +as no trouble of his own could have done. +</P> + +<P> +The moment was perhaps the moment for such feeling. It was the moment +preceding battle. It was the moment when each man realized that a +thousand chances were crowding. When the uncertainties of the future +were so many and so deeply hidden. Resolve alone was definite. Life +and purpose were theirs to-day. To-morrow? Who could say of tomorrow? +So it was that the mind groped back amongst memories which had the +greatest appeal. For Kars all his memories were now centred round the +home of the girl who had taught him the real meaning of life. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell was sitting on a rough log, within a yard or two. He, +too, was gazing out into the approaching night while he smoked on in +meditative silence. His keen face and usually twinkling eyes were +serious. He had small enough claims behind him. There was no woman in +his life to hold his intimate regard. The present was his, and the +future. The future had his life's work of healing in it. The present +held his friend, beside whom he was ranged in perfect loyalty against +the work of desperate men. +</P> + +<P> +His purpose? Perhaps he would have found it difficult to explain. +Perhaps he could not have explained at all. His was a nature that +demanded more than a life of healing could give him. There was the +ceaseless call of the original man in him. It was a call so insistent +that it must be obeyed, even while his mental attitude spurned the +folly of it. +</P> + +<P> +Abe Dodds was propped on an upturned bucket with his lean shoulders +squared against the log walls of the shanty. His jaw was moving +rhythmically as he chewed with nervous energy. The difference in him +from the others was the difference of a calculating mind always working +out the sum of life from a purely worldly side. He knew the values of +the Bell River strike to an ounce. It was his business to know. And +he was ready to pass through any furnace, human or hellish, to seize +the fortune which he knew was literally at his feet. There was neither +sentiment nor feeling in his regard of that which was yet to come. +This was the great opportunity. He had lived and struggled north of +"sixty" for this moment. He was ready to die if necessary for the +achievement of all it meant. +</P> + +<P> +The men sat on, each wrapped in his own mood as the pall of night +unfolded itself. The last word had been given to those at the +defences, and it had been full and complete. Joe Saunders held the +pass down from above. It had been at his own definite request. But +the moment attack came he would be supported by one of these three. It +was for this reason that he was absent from the final vigil of his +fellow leaders. +</P> + +<P> +It was Abe who finally broke the prolonged silence. He broke it upon +indifferent ears. But then he had not the same mood for silence. +</P> + +<P> +"There's every sort of old chance lying around," he observed, as though +following out his own long train of thought. "But I don't guess many +of 'em's worth while. There's fellers 'ud hand over any sense they +ever collected fer the dame that's had savvee to buy a fi' cent +perfume. 'Tain't my way. There's jest one chance for me. It's the +big boodle. I'm all in for that. Right up to my ear-drums." He +laughed and spat. "There's a mighty big world to buy, an' when you got +your fencing set up around it, why, there ain't a deal left outside +that's worth corrallin'. I'd say it's only the folk who fancy the +foolish house need to try an' buy a big pot on a pair o' deuces. If +you stand on a 'royal' you can grab most anything. I got this thing +figgered to a cent. When we're through there's those among us going to +make home with a million dollars—cold." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Bill removed his pipe. His gaze was turned on the engineer, whose +vigorous mind was searching only one side of the task before them. The +side which appealed to him most. +</P> + +<P> +"That million don't worry me a cent," he went on. "If life's just a +matter of buying and selling you're li'ble to get sick of it quick." +</P> + +<P> +Abe's eyes shot a swift glance in the doctor's direction. +</P> + +<P> +"Then what brings you up to Bell River?" he exclaimed. "It ain't a +circumstance as a health resort." +</P> + +<P> +Bill smiled down at his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Much the same as you, I guess," he said. "Say, you're talking +dollars. You're figgering dollars. You've got a nightmare of all you +can buy with those dollars." He shook his head. "Turn over. Maybe +that way you'd see things the way they are with you. Those dollars are +just a symbol. You fix your eye on them. It isn't winning the 'pot' +with a 'royal.' It isn't winning anyway. It's the play that gets you. +If you could walk right into the office of the president of a state +bank, and come out of it with a roll of a million, with no more effort +than it needed pushing one foot in front of another, guess you'd as +soon light your two dollar cigar with a hundred dollar bill as a +'Frisco stinker. I've seen a heap of boys like you, Abe. I've seen +them sweat, and cuss, and work like a beaver for a wage, and they've +been as happy as a doped Chinaman. I've seen them later, when the +dollars come plenty, and they're so sick there isn't dope enough in +Leaping Horse can make them feel good. Guess I'm right here because +it's good to live, and fight, and work, same as man was meant to. The +other don't cut much ice, unless it is the work's made things +better—someways." +</P> + +<P> +Abe spat out his chew and sat up. His combative spirit, which was +perhaps his chief characteristic, was easily stirred. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't stuff of that sort made John Kars the richest guy in Leaping +Horse. It ain't that play set him doping around 'inside' where there +ain't much else but cold, and skitters, and gold. It ain't that play +set him crazy to make Bell River with an outfit to lick a bunch of +scallawag neches. No, sir. He's wise to the value of dollars in a +world where there's nothing much else counts. There ain't no joy to +life without 'em. An' you just can't live life without joy. If you're +fixed that way, why, you'll hit the trail of the long haired crank, or +join the folk who make a pastime of a penitentiary. The dollars for +mine. If they come on a cushion of down I'll handle 'em elegant with +kid gloves on my hands. I'm sick chasin'—sick to death." +</P> + +<P> +Kars became caught in the interest of the talk. His dream picture +faded in the shades of night, and the reality of things about him +poured in upon him. He caught at the thread of discussion in his +eager, forceful way. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't right, Abe, and Bill, here, too, is wrong," he said, in his +amiably decided fashion. "Human life's just one great big darn foolish +'want.' It's the wage we're asking for all we do. Don't make any +Sunday-school mistake. We're asking pay for every act we play, and the +purse of old Prov is open most all the time. We all got a grouch set +up against life. Most of us know it. Some don't. If I know anything +of human nature we'd all squat around waiting till the end, doping our +senses without restraining the appetite Nature gave us, if it wasn't +for that blamed wage we're always yearning after. It's the law we've +got to work, and Prov sets the notion in us we want something as the +only way to keep our noses to the grinding mill. Those dollars ain't +the end of your want. They're just a kind of symbol, as Bill +says—till you've got 'em. After that you'll still be yearning for the +big opportunity same as you've been right along up to now. It's just +the symbol'll be diff'rent. You'll work, and cuss, and sweat, and +fight, just the same as you're ready to do now. You'll still be biting +the heels of old Prov for more. And Prov'll dope it out when you've +worked plenty, and He figgers you've earned your wage. Bill's here on +the same argument. He's got the dollars he needs, but he's still +chasing that wage. Maybe his wage is diff'rent from yours or mine. +Y'see he's quite a piece older. But he's worrying old Prov just as +hard. Bill's here because his notions of things lie along the line of +doping out healing to the poor darn fools who haven't the sense to keep +themselves whole. It don't matter who's going to be better for his +work on this layout. But when he's through, why, he'll open out his +hands to old Prov, and Prov'll dope out his wage. And that wage'll +come to him plenty when he sets around smoking his foul old pipe over a +stove, and thinks back—all to himself." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled with a curious twisted sort of smile as he gazed almost +affectionately at the loyal little man of medicine. Then he turned +again to the night which now hid the last outlines of the stern old +gorge, as he went on. +</P> + +<P> +"As for me the dollars in this gorge couldn't raise a shadow of joy." +He shook his head. "And if I told you the wage I'm asking, maybe you'd +laff till your sides split up. I'm not telling you the wage old +Prov'll have to hand out my way. But to me it's big. So big your +million dollars couldn't buy a hundredth part of it. No, sir. Nor a +thousandth. And maybe when Prov has checked my time sheet, and handed +out, He won't be through by a sight. I'll still be yepping at His +heels for more, only the—symbol'll kind of be changed. Meanwhile——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off listening. Abe started to his feet. Bill deliberately +knocked out his pipe on the log, while his eyes were turned along the +foreshore in the direction of the Indian workings. Kars heaved himself +to his feet and stood with his keen eyes striving to penetrate the +darkness in the same direction. +</P> + +<P> +"—We're going to start right in earning that wage—now!" +</P> + +<P> +A hot rifle fire swept over the camp with reckless disregard of all +aim. It came with a sharp rattle. The bullets swept on with a biting +hiss, and some of them terminated their careers with a vicious "splat" +against the great overhang of rock or the woodwork of the trestle-built +sluices. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant the deadly calm of the night was gone, swept away by the +sound of many voices, and the rush of feet, and the answering fire of +the defenders. +</P> + +<P> +The battle of Bell River had begun. The white men had staked their all +in the great play, confident they held the winning hand. The +alternative from complete victory for them had one hard, definite +meaning. There was no help but that which lay in their own hands, +their own wits. Death, only, was on the reverse of the victory they +were claiming from Providence. +</P> + +<P> +A fierce pandemonium stirred the bowels of the night. The rattle of +musketry with its hundreds of needle-points of flame joined the chorus +of fiercely straining human voices. The black calm of night was rent +to shreds, leaving in its place only the riot of cruel, warring +passions. +</P> + +<P> +The white men leaders and their men received the onslaught of the +savage horde with the steadfastness of a full understanding of the +meaning of defeat. They were braced for the shock with the nerve of +men who have bitterly learned the secret of survival in a land haunted +with terror. No heart-quail showed in the wall of resistance. The +secret emotions had no power before the realization of the horror which +must follow on defeat. The shadow of mutilation, of torture, of +unspeakable death made brave the surest weakling. +</P> + +<P> +Many of the defenders were Indian, like the attacking horde, though of +superior race. Some were bastard whites, that most evil thing in human +production in the outlands. A few were white, other than the leaders. +Men belonging to that desperate crew always clinging to the fringe of +human effort, where wealth is won by the lucky turn of the spade. +Reckless creatures who live sunk in the deeps of indulgence of the +senses, and without a shred of the conscience with which they were +born. It was a collection of humanity such as only a man of Kars' +characteristics could have controlled. But for a desperate adventure +it might well have been difficult to find its equal. It was their +mission to fight, generally against the laws of society. But fight was +their mission, and they would fulfil it. +</P> + +<P> +They were ready braced at their posts, and their leaders were in their +midst. The fierce yelling of advancing Indians was without effect. +They met the onslaught at close quarters with a fire as coldly +calculated as it was merciless. The rush of assault was doubtless +calculated to brush all defence aside in the first attack. But as well +might the Bell River leaders have hoped to spurn ferro concrete from +their path. The method was old. It was tried. It was as old as the +ages since the red man was first permitted to curse the joys of a +beautiful world. It was brave as only the savage mind understands +bravery. But it was as impotent before the defence as the beating of +captive wings against the iron bars of a cage. +</P> + +<P> +The insensate horde came like the surging tide of driven waters. It +reeled before the flaming weapons like rollers on a breakwater. There +came the swirl and eddy. Then, in desperate defeat, it dropped back to +gather fresh impetus from the volume behind. +</P> + +<P> +The conflict was shadowy, yet searching eyes outlined without +difficulty the half-naked, undersized forms as they came. There was +nothing wild in the defence. Fire was withheld till the moment of +contact. Then it poured out at pointblank range. +</P> + +<P> +The carnage of that first onslaught was horrible. But the defenders +suffered only the lightest casualties. They labored under no delusion. +The attack would come again and again in the hope of creating a breach, +and that breach was the thought in each leader's mind. Its prevention +was his sheet anchor of hope. Its realization was his nightmare. +</P> + +<P> +The tide of men surged once more. It came on under a rain of reckless +fire. The black wings of night were illuminated with a fiery sparkle, +and the smell of battle hung heavily on the still air. Kars shouted +encouragement to his men. +</P> + +<P> +The response was all he could desire. The Indians surged to the +embankment only to beat vainly, and to fall back decimated. But again +and again they rallied, their temper growing to a pitch of fury that +suggested the limit of human endurance. The defence was hard put to +it, and only deliberation, and the full knowledge of consequences, +saved the breach. +</P> + +<P> +The numbers seemed endless, rising out of the black beyond only to take +shape at the rifle muzzle. Thought and action were simultaneous. Each +rifle was pressed tight into the shoulder, while the hot barrel hurled +its billet of death deep into the dusky bodies. +</P> + +<P> +For Kars those moments were filled to the brim with the intoxicating +elixir demanded by his elemental nature. He fought with a disregard of +self that left its mark upon all those who were near by. He spared +nothing, and his "automatic" drove terror, as well as death, into the +hearts of those with whom he was confronted. It was good to fight for +life in any form. The life of ease and security had small enough +attraction for him. But now—now he fought with the memory of the +wrongs which, through these creatures, had been inflicted upon the girl +who had taught him the true meaning of life. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was no less stirred, but he possessed another incentive. He +fought till the first casualties in the defence claimed mercy in +exchange for the merciless, and he was forced regretfully to obey the +demands of his life's mission. All his ripeness of thought, all his +philosophy, gleaned under the thin veneer of civilization, had been +swept away by the tidal wave of battle. The original man hugged him to +his bosom, and he rested there content. +</P> + +<P> +With Abe Dodds emotion held small place. A cold fury rose under the +lash of motive. It was the motive of a man ready at all times to spurn +obstruction from his path. His heart was without mercy where his +interests were threatened. These creatures were a wolf pack, from his +view-point, and he yearned to shoot them down as such. Like Peigan +Charley his desire was that every shot should sink deeply into the +bowels of the enemy. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment of lull Bill dragged a wounded man off the embankment at +Kars' side. Kars withdrew his searching gaze from the dark beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"How's things?" he demanded. His voice was thick with a parching +thirst. +</P> + +<P> +"He's the fifth." +</P> + +<P> +Bill's reply was preoccupied. Kars was thinking only of the defence. +</P> + +<P> +"Bully!" he exclaimed. It was the appreciation of the fighter. He had +no thought for anything else. "We'll get 'em hunting their holes by +daylight," he went on. Then suddenly he turned back. His rifle was +ready, and he spoke over his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"There's just one thing better than chasing the long trail, Bill. It's +scrap." +</P> + +<P> +With a fierce yell a dusky form leaped out of the darkness. He sprang +at the embankment with hatchet upraised. Kars' rifle greeted him and +he fell in his tracks. +</P> + +<P> +Bill shouldered his wounded burden. A grim smile struggled to his lips +as he bore it away. Nor did his muttered reply reach his now +preoccupied friend. +</P> + +<P> +"And we cuss the poor darn neche for a savage." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was midnight before the final convulsions of the great storming +assaults showed a waning. The first signs were the lengthening +intervals between the rushes. Then gradually the rushes lessened in +determination and only occasionally did they come to close quarters. +To Kars the signs were the signs he looked for. They were to him the +signs of first victory. But no vigilance was relaxed. The stake was +far too great. None knew better than he the danger of relaxing effort +under the assurance of success. And so the straining eyes of the +defence were kept wide. +</P> + +<P> +Minutes crept by, passed under a desultory fire from the distance. The +bullets whistled widely overhead, doing no damage to life. The time +lengthened into half an hour and still no fresh assault came. Kars +stirred from his place. He wiped the muck sweat from his forehead, and +passed down the line of embankment to where Abe Dodds held command. +</P> + +<P> +"We got to get the boys fed coffee and sow-belly," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Abe with his watchful eyes on the distance replied reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess we'll have to." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I sent word to the cook-house. Pass 'em along in reliefs. There's no +figgerin' on the next jolt. We can't take chances—yet." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to—later." +</P> + +<P> +Again Kars nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I figger. But we got to get through this night first. +There's no chances this night. Pass your men along easy. Hold 'em up +on the least sign of things doing." +</P> + +<P> +He was gone in a moment. And the operation he had prescribed for Abe's +men was applied to his own. +</P> + +<P> +Another hour passed and still there was no sign from the enemy. It +almost seemed as if the victory had been more complete for the defence +than had at first been thought. The men were refreshed, and the rest +was more than welcome. Kars refused to leave his post. For all his +faith in the defence he trusted the vigilance of no one. +</P> + +<P> +A meal of sorts was sent down to him from the cook-house, and he shared +it with the stalwart ruffian, Abe, and, for the most part, they +quenched their thirst with the steaming beverage in silence. The +thought of each man was busy. Both were contemplating the ultimate, +rather than the effort of the moment. +</P> + +<P> +Abe was the first to yield to the press of thought. +</P> + +<P> +"How's Bill doin'?" he demanded. "What's the figures? I lost four." +</P> + +<P> +"Wounded—only?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wounded." +</P> + +<P> +"Guess that raises the tally." +</P> + +<P> +"How about your boys?" +</P> + +<P> +Kars gazed in the direction of the rough storehouse now converted into +a hospital. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd say five. Bill was here a while back. He reckoned he'd got five +then." +</P> + +<P> +Abe laughed. It was not a mirthful laugh. He rarely gave way to +mirth. Purpose had too profound a hold on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Figger up nine by eight nights like this and you ain't got much of a +crowd out of eighty." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes came swiftly to the lean face shadowed under the night. +</P> + +<P> +"No." Then he glanced in the direction whence came the reckless Indian +fire. "You mean we can't sit around, and let the neches play their own +war game. That so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it seems that way." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't reckon they're going to." Kars tipped out the coffee grounds +from his pannikin with unnecessary force. He laid the cup aside and +turned on the engineer. "Say, boy," he cried, with a deliberate +emphasis, "I've got this thing figgered from A to Z. I've spent months +of thought on it. You're lookin' on the dollars lying around, and +you're yearning to grab them plenty. It's a mighty strong motive. But +it's not a circumstance beside mine. I'd lose every dollar in my bank +roll; I'd hand up my life without a kick, rather than lose this game. +Get me? Say, don't you worry a thing, so we hold this night through. +That's what matters in my figgering. If we hold this night, I got a +whole stack of aces and things in my sleeve. And I'm goin' to play +'em, and play 'em—good." +</P> + +<P> +The assurance of his manner had a deep effect. Passivity of resistance +at no time appealed to the forceful Abe. Aggression was the chief part +of his doctrine of life. He was glad to hear his chief talk in that +fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"That talk suits me," he said readily. "I——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off, his eyes searching the distance, his hearing straining. +Kars, too, had turned, searching beyond the embankment. +</P> + +<P> +"It's coming," he said. "It's coming plenty." +</P> + +<P> +But Abe had not waited. His lean figure was swallowed up in the +darkness as he made off to his post where his men were already +assembled. +</P> + +<P> +In less than two minutes the battle was raging with all its original +desperation. The black night air was filled with the fury of yelling +voices which vied with the rattle of firearms for domination. Bare, +shadowy bodies hurled themselves with renewed impetus against the +defences, and went down like grain before the reaper. +</P> + +<P> +The embankments were held with even greater confidence. Earlier +experience, the respite; these things had made their contribution, a +contribution which told heavily against the renewed assault. +</P> + +<P> +Kars wondered. He had said these men were like sheep. Now they were +like sheep herded on to the slaughter-house. The senselessness of it +was growing on him with his increased confidence. It all seemed +unworthy of the astute half white mind lying behind the purpose. These +were the thoughts which flashed through his mind as he plied his +weapons and encouraged the men of his command, and they grew in +conviction with each passing moment. +</P> + +<P> +But there was more wit in it all than he suspected. +</P> + +<P> +The battle was at its height. The insensate savages came on, +regardless of the numbers who fell. The whole line of defence was +resisting with all the energy and resource at its disposal. Then came +the diversion. +</P> + +<P> +It came by water. It came with a swirl of paddles in the black void +enveloping the great river. Out of the darkness grew the shadowy +outlines of four laden canoes, and the beaching of the craft was the +first inkling Abe Dodds, who held the left defences, had of the +adventure. +</P> + +<P> +Action and thought were almost one with him. Claiming the men nearest +him he hurled himself on the invaders with a ferocity which had for its +inspiration a full understanding of the consequences of disaster in +such a direction. Outflanking stared at him with all its ugly meaning, +and as he went he shouted hoarsely back to Kars his ill-omened news. +Kars needed no second warning. He passed the call on to Bill. He +claimed the reinforcement which only desperate emergency had the right +to demand. Then he flung himself to the task of making good the +depleted defence where Abe had withdrawn his men. +</P> + +<P> +The crisis was more deadly than could have seemed possible a moment +before. The whole aspect of the scene had been changed. The breach, +that dreaded breach with all its deadly meaning, was achieved in +something that amounted only to seconds. +</P> + +<P> +The neches swarmed on the embankments on the lower foreshore. The +defenders who had been left were driven back before the fierce +onslaught. They were already giving ground when Kars flung himself to +their support. The whole position looked like being turned. +</P> + +<P> +It was no longer a battle of coldly calculated method. Here at least +it had become a conflict where individual nerve and ability alone could +win out. Already some dozen of the half-nude savages had forced +themselves across the embankment, and more were pressing on behind. It +was a moment to blast the sternest courage. It was a moment when the +whole edifice of the white man's purpose looked to be tottering, if not +falling headlong. Kars understood. He had the measure of the threat +to the last fraction, and he flung himself into the battle with a +desperateness of energy and resolve that bore almost immediate fruit. +</P> + +<P> +His coming had checked the breaking of the defenders. But he knew it +was like patching rotten material. His influence could not last +without Bill and his reinforcements. He plied his guns with a +discrimination which no heat or excitement could disturb, and the first +invaders fell under his attack amidst a din of fierce-throated cries. +His men rallied. But he knew they were fighting now with a shadow at +the back of their minds. It was his purpose to remove that shadow, and +he strove with voice and act to do so. +</P> + +<P> +The first support of his coming passed with the emptying of his +pistols. He flung them aside without a moment's hesitation, and +grabbed a rifle from a fallen neche. It was the act of a man who knew +the value of every second gained. He knew, even more, the value of his +own gigantic strength. +</P> + +<P> +The weapon in his hands became a far-reaching club. And, swinging it +like a fiercely driven flail, he rushed into the crowd of savages, +scattering them like chaff in a gale. The smashing blows fell on heads +that split under their superlative force, and the ground about him +became like a shambles. In a moment he discovered another figure in +the shadowy darkness, fighting in a similar fashion, and he knew by the +crude, disjointed oaths which were hurled with each blow, so full of a +venomous hate, that Peigan Charley had somehow come to his support. +His heart warmed, and his onslaught increased in its bitter ferocity. +</P> + +<P> +He was holding. Just holding the rush, and that was all. Without the +reinforcements he had claimed he could not hope to drive his attack +home. He knew. Nor did he attempt to blind himself. The whole thing +was a matter of minutes now. Defeat, complete disaster hung by a +thread, and the fever of the knowledge fired his muscles to an effort +that was almost superhuman. +</P> + +<P> +He drove his way through the raging savages, whose crude weapons for +close quarters were aimed at him from every direction. He was fighting +for time. He was fighting to hold—simply hold. He was fighting to +demoralize the rush, and drive terror into savage hearts. And he knew +his limits were steadily approaching. +</P> + +<P> +His first call had reached the ears of the man for whom it was +intended. Nor had they been indifferent. A call for help from Kars +was an irresistible clarion of appeal to Bill Brudenell. Mercy? There +was no consideration of healing or mercy could claim him from his +friend's succor. He flung aside his drugs, his bandages. He had no +thought for his wounded. He had no thought for himself. +</P> + +<P> +To collect reinforcements from the northern defences was the work of a +few minutes. Even the elderly breed cook at the cook-house was +claimed, though his only weapons were an ancient patterned revolver and +a pick-haft he had snatched up. Fifteen men in all he was able to +collect and at the head of them he rushed for the battle-ground. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was he a moment too soon. Kars' vigor was rapidly exhausting +itself. Peigan Charley was fighting with a demoniac fury, but +weakening. The handful of men who were still supporting were nearly +defeated. +</P> + +<P> +Bill knew the value of creating panic. As he came he set up a yell. +His men took it up, and it sounded like the advance of a legion of +demons. In a moment they were caught in the whirl of battle, and the +flash of their weapons lit the scene, while the clatter of firearms, +and the hoarse-throated shouting, gave an impression of overwhelming +force. Back reeled the yelling horde in face of the onslaught. Back +and still back. Confusion with those pressing on behind set up a +panic. The wretched creatures fell like flies in the darkness. Then +came flight. Headlong flight. The panic which Bill had sought. +</P> + +<P> +In half an hour from the moment of the first break the position was +restored. Within an hour Kars knew the Battle of Bell River had been +won. But it had been won at a cost he had never reckoned upon. The +margin of victory had been the narrowest. +</P> + +<P> +Abe had been able to complete his work in the cold businesslike manner +which was all his own. The attack from the river was an unsupported +diversion with forces limited to its need. How nearly it had succeeded +no doubt remained. But in that direction Abe's heavy hand had fallen +in no measured fashion. Those of the landing party who were not +awaiting burial on the foreshore were meeting death in the deep waters +of the swiftly flowing river. Even the smashed canoes were flotsam on +the bosom of the tide. +</P> + +<P> +The battle degenerated from the moment of the failure of the intended +breach. There was no further attack in force. Small, isolated raids +came at intervals only to be swept back by rifle fire from the +embankments. These, and a desultory and notoriously wild fire, which, +to the defence, was a mere expression of impotent, savage rage, wore +the long night through. Kars had achieved his desire. The night had +been fought out, and the defence had held. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Kars was standing in the doorway of the storehouse where Bill was +calmly prosecuting his work of mercy. The doctor's smallish figure was +moving rapidly about the crowded hut. His preoccupation was heart +whole. He had eyes and thought for nothing but those injured bodies +under their light blanket coverings, and the groans of suffering that +came from lips, which, in health, were usually tainted with blasphemy. +</P> + +<P> +All Kars' thoughts were at the moment concerned with the busy man. +That array of figures had already told him its story. A painful story. +A story calculated to daunt a leader. Just now he was thinking how his +debt to this man was mounting up. Years of intimate friendship had +been sealed by incident after incident of devotion. Now he felt that +he owed his present being to the prompt response to his signal of +distress. But Bill had never failed him. Bill would never fail when +loyalty was demanded. He breathed devotion in every act of his life. +There could be no thanks between them. There never had been thanks +between them. Their bond was too deep, too strong for that. +</P> + +<P> +The dull lamplight revealed the makeshift of the hospital. There were +no bunks, only the hard earthen floor cleared of stones. Its log walls +were stopped with mud to keep the weather out. A packing case formed +the table on which the doctor's instruments were laid out. It was +rough, uncouth. Its inadequacy was only mitigated by the skill and +gentle mercy of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' voice broke in upon the doctor's preoccupation. +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty," he said. "Twenty out of eighty." +</P> + +<P> +Bill glanced up from the wounded head he was dressing. +</P> + +<P> +"And the fight just started." +</P> + +<P> +Kars stirred from the support of the door-casing which had served to +rest his weary body. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he admitted. +</P> + +<P> +Then he turned away. There seemed to be nothing further to add. He +drew a deep breath as he moved into the open. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later he was moving with rapid strides in the direction of the +battle-ground. A hard light was shining in his steady eyes, his jaws +were sternly set. All feeling of the moment before had passed. The +gray of dawn was spreading over the eastern sky. His nightmare was +over. There was only left for him the execution of those plans he had +so carefully worked out during the long days of preparation. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HARVEST OF BATTLE +</H3> + + +<P> +The sun rose on a scene of great activity. It was the garnering of the +harvest of battle. The light of day smiled down on this oasis on a +barren foreshore of Bell River and searched it from end to end. It was +so small in the immensity of its surroundings. Isolated, cut off from +all outside help, it looked as though a deep breath of the Living +Purpose of Life must have swept it away like some ant heap lying in the +path of a thrusting broom. Yet it had withstood the shock of battle +victoriously, and those surviving were counting the harvest. +</P> + +<P> +But there was no smile in the heart of man. A hundred dead lay +scattered on the foreshore. They congested the defences of the camp. +They had even breathed their last agony within the precincts which they +had sought to conquer. Mean, undersized, dusky-skinned, half-nude +creatures sprawled everywhere, revealing in their attitudes something +of that last suffering before the great release. Doubtless the price +had been paid with little enough regret, for that is the savage way. +It was for their living comrades to deplore the loss, but only for the +serious depletion of their ranks. +</P> + +<P> +The victorious defenders had no thought beyond the blessings of the +harvest. They had no sympathy to waste. These dead creatures were so +much carrion. The battle was the battle for existence which knows +neither pity nor remorse. +</P> + +<P> +So the dead clay was gathered and thrown to its last rest on the bosom +of the waters, to be borne towards the eternal ice-fields of the Pole, +or lie rotting on barren, rock-bound shores, where only the cries of +the wilderness awaken the echoes. There was no reverence, no ceremony. +The perils of existence were too near, too real in the minds of these +men. +</P> + +<P> +With the last of the human sheaves disposed of the real work of the day +began under the watchful eyes of the leaders. The garrison was divided +in half. One-half slept while the other half labored at the defences. +Only the leaders seemed to be denied the ease of body their night's +effort demanded. Picks and shovels were the order of the day, and all +the shortcomings of the defences, discovered during battle, were made +good. The golden "pay dirt" which had drawn the sweepings of Leaping +Horse into the service of John Kars was the precious material of +salvation. +</P> + +<P> +The fortifications rose on all sides. The river front was no longer +neglected. None could say whence the next attack would come. None +could estimate for sure the subtleties of the bastard white mind which +had so long successfully manipulated the secret of Bell River. +</P> + +<P> +Not a man but had been impressed by the battle of the night. Not a man +but knew that the losses in defence had been detrimentally +disproportionate. Life to them was sweet enough. But even greater +than the passionate desire to live was lust for possession of the +treasure upon which their feet trod. +</P> + +<P> +So they worked with a feverish effort. Nothing must be spared. +Nothing neglected that could make for security. +</P> + +<P> +The leaders conferred, and planned. And the result was concrete +practice. Kars was the guiding spirit, and Abe Dodds was the +machine-like energy that drove the labor forward. Bill took no part in +the work. His work lay in one direction only, and it was a work he +carried out with a self-sacrifice only to be expected from him. His +hospital was full to overflowing, and for all his skill, for all his +devotion, five times, during the day, bearers had to be summoned to +carry out the cold remains of one of their comrades. +</P> + +<P> +The question in all minds was a speculation as to whether a fresh +attack would mature on the second night. This speculation was confined +to the rank and file of the outfit. The clearer vision of the leaders +searched their own understanding of the position. It was pretty +definitely certain there would be no attack in force. The enemy had +hoped for a victory as the result of surprise and overwhelming odds. +It had failed. It had failed disastrously. The Indians were supposed +to be five hundred strong. They had lost a fifth of their force +without making any apparent impression on the defenders. There could +be no surprise on the second night. It would take longer than twelve +hours to spur the Indians to a fresh attack of a similar nature. +</P> + +<P> +No, there would be no attack of a serious nature—yet. And Kars +unfolded the plans he had so carefully thought out long months ago. He +set them before his three companions late in the afternoon, and +detailed them with a meticulous care and exactness which revealed the +clarity of vision he had displayed in their construction. +</P> + +<P> +But they were not plans such as these men had expected. They were +daring and subtle, and they involved a risk only to be contemplated by +such a nature as that of their author. But they promised success, if +fortune ran their way. And in failure they would be left little more +embarrassed than they now stood. +</P> + +<P> +The meeting terminated as it was bound to terminate with Kars guiding +its council. Joe Saunders, whose mentality limited him to a good +fight, and the understanding of a prospector's craft, had neither demur +nor suggestion. Bill admitted he had no better proposition to offer, +and only stipulated that his share in the scheme should be completely +adequate. Abe protested at the work imposed upon him, but admitted its +necessity. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit around this layout punchin' daylight into the lousy carcases of a +bunch of neches, while you an' Doc here get busy, seems to me a sort o' +Sunday-school game I ain't been raised to. It's a sort of pie that +ain't had no sweetenin', I guess. An' my stomach's yearnin' for sugar. +That play of yours has got me itching to take a hand. Still, I guess +this darn ol' camp needs holding up, an' if you need me here you can +count me in to the limit." +</P> + +<P> +Kars nodded unsmilingly. He knew Abe, second only to his knowledge of +Bill Brudenell. That limit was a big one. It meant all he desired. +</P> + +<P> +"It had to be you or Bill, Abe," he said. "I fixed on you because you +got the boys of this camp where you need them. You'll get all the +fight out of them when you want it. The Doc, here, can dope 'em all +they need, but he hasn't spent half his days driving for gold with an +outfit of scallawags same as you have. Hold this camp to the limit, +boy, and when the work's through I don't guess your share in things'll +be the least. I'm going to bank on you as I've never banked before. +And I don't worry a thing." +</P> + +<P> +It was a tribute as generous as it was diplomatic, and its effect was +instantaneous. +</P> + +<P> +"It goes, chief," exclaimed the engineer, with the nearest approach to +real enthusiasm he ever permitted himself. "The limit! An' they'll +need a big bank roll of fight to call my hand." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Peigan Charley was surprised into wakefulness under +the southern embankment, where he had fallen asleep over his pipe. His +boss was standing over him, gazing down at him with steady, gray, +unsmiling eyes. The scout was sitting up in a moment. He was not yet +certain what the visitation portended. +</P> + +<P> +"Had a good sleep, Peigan?" Kars demanded, +</P> + +<P> +"Him sleep plenty, boss." +</P> + +<P> +"Good." +</P> + +<P> +Kars turned and glanced out over the great volume of water passing down +the river in a ponderous tide. Peigan Charley waited in mute, +unquestioning fashion for what was to come. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Kars turned back to his trusted henchman. He began to talk +rapidly. And as he talked the scout thrust his pipe away into a pocket +in his ragged coat, which had once formed part of his boss's wardrobe. +He stood up. Nor did he interrupt. The keen light in his big black +eyes alone betrayed any emotion. There was no doubt as to the nature +of that emotion. For the sparkle in them grew, and robbed them of the +last shadow of their native lack of expression. +</P> + +<P> +Following upon his boss's words came the Indian's brief but cordial +expression of appreciation. Then came a few minutes of sharp question, +and eager reply. And, at last, came Kars' final injunctions. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you'll get right up to the cook-house and eat your belly full. +Get fixed that way good. Maybe you'll need it. Then start right in, +when it's dark, and don't pass word to a soul, or I'll rawhide you. +Get this good. If the neches get wise to you the game's played, and +we've lost." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian's reply came on the instant, and it was full to the brim of +that contempt which the mention of his race never failed to arouse. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn fool neche not know," he said icily. +</P> + +<P> +Kars watched him set out for the cook-house. Then he moved over to the +hospital where Bill was at work. +</P> + +<P> +He passed within the crude storehouse. He had not come out of any +curiosity. He had not come to contemplate the havoc wrought on the +bodies of this flotsam of dissolute life. He had come for the simple +purpose of offering some cheer in the darkness of suffering. +</P> + +<P> +For all the ruggedness of exterior displayed by this man when the call +of the northern wilderness claimed him, deep in his heart there were +warm fires glowing which the bond of loyal comradeship never failed to +fan. These Breeds and scallawag Indians were no less to him for their +color, or their morals. They were fighters—fighters of the trail like +himself. It was enough. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A desultory rifle fire played over the camp. It was the signal of +passing day. It was a reminder that the day's cessation of hostilities +marked no abatement in the enemy's purpose. The defence was at its +post. A long line of rifles held their vicious muzzles searching for a +target that would repay. Wastage of ammunition was strictly forbidden. +The night, like its predecessor, was obscure. The targets were far +off, and, as yet, invisible. So the defence remained unanswering, but +ready. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond the new defences on the river front a shadowy figure was +stirring. His movements were stealthy. His moccasined feet gave out +no sound. But there was sound. It was the muffled grating of +something being slid over the gravelly beach at the water's edge. Then +came a gentle splash of water. It was scarcely more than the sound of +a leaping fish. After that came the lapping of the stream against an +obstruction to its course. +</P> + +<P> +The figure stood up, tall and slim. The rawhide rope in his hand +strung taut. A moment later he secured the end of it by the simple +process of resting a small boulder upon its knotted extremity. +</P> + +<P> +The canoe had swung to the stream and lay in against the river bank. +The silent figure stooped over its gunwale and deposited various +articles within its shallow depths. It was the merest cockle-shell of +stoutly strutted bark, a product of the northland Indian which leaves +modern invention far behind in the purpose for which it is designed. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of a footstep on the beach drew the crouching figure to its +full height. Then, at the sound of a familiar voice, all suspicion +died out. +</P> + +<P> +"All fixed right, Charley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sho', boss. Him fix plenty good." +</P> + +<P> +"Got sow-belly an'—hardtack? Maybe you'll need him. Gun? Plenty +cartridge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Him plenty—all thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Good. Say, you need to get around before daylight. Good luck." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian grunted his reply while he stooped again to release the +rawhide painter. Then, with a nice sense of balance, he sprang lightly +into the shell-like vessel. +</P> + +<P> +John Kars waited only till he heard the muffled dip of the paddle. +Then he withdrew, a sigh escaping him, an expression of pent feeling +which had hope and doubt closely intermingling for its inspiration. He +passed up to the defences for his second night's vigil. He had +arranged that Abe should sleep unless emergency demanded otherwise. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The night passed without incident. Kars was thankful. It was so much +valuable time gained. The labors had been hard following upon the +night of battle. The whole garrison had needed rest. This had been +achieved by systematic relief, which was almost military in its method. +But sleep had been taken at the defences. There had been no relaxing +of vigilance. Nor had the enemy any intention of permitting it. His +loose fire went on the whole time, stirring the echoes of the gorge in +protest at the disturbance of the night. +</P> + +<P> +Towards morning Kars and Bill were at the water's edge, searching the +black distance, while they strained for a sound other than the echoes +of the spasmodic rifle fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley'll find a trail, if he hasn't broken his fool neck," Kars +said. "Guess he'd find a trail in a desert of sand that's always +shifting. This darn gorge must be scored with them. If he don't, why, +I guess we'll need to chance it up-stream past those workings." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Bill sat on the boulder Charley had used as a mooring. He had had his +sleep, but a certain weariness still remained. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd stake a roll on Charley," he said, with an upward glance of +amusement that was lost in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." Kars gave a short laugh. "He's a mascot. It's always been +that way since I grabbed him when he quit the penitentiary for +splitting another neche's head open in a scrap over a Breed gal. +Charley's got all the brains of his race, and none of its virtues. But +he's got virtues of a diff'rent sort. They're sometimes found in white +folk." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean he's loyal." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. Every pocket he's got is stuffed full of it. He'll find a +trail or break his fool neck—because I'm needing one. He's the sort +of boy, if I needed him to shoot up a feller, it wouldn't be sufficient +acting the way I said. He'd shoot up his whole darn family, too, and +thieve their blankets, even if he didn't need 'em. He's quite a +boy—when you got him where you need him. I——" +</P> + +<P> +Kars broke off listening acutely. He turned his head with that +instinct of avoiding the night breeze. Bill, too, was listening, his +watchful eyes turned northward. +</P> + +<P> +The moments grew. The splutter of rifle fire still haunted the night. +But, for all its breaking of the stillness, the muffled sound of a +paddle grew out of the distance. Kars sighed a relief he would not +have admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"Back to—schedule," he said. "Guess it needs a half hour of dawn." +</P> + +<P> +There was no muffle to the sound of the paddle now, and the waiting men +understood. The Indian was up against the full strength of the heavy +stream, and, light as was his craft, it was no easy task to breast it. +For some minutes the rhythmic beat went on. Then the little vessel +grated directly opposite them, with an exactness of judgment in the +darkness that stirred admiration. A moment later Peigan Charley was +giving the results of his expedition in the language of his boss, of +which he considered himself a perfect master. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley, him find him," he said with deep satisfaction. "Him mak' +plenty trail. Much climb. Much ev'rything. So." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAP OF THE GODS +</H3> + + +<P> +He looked like a disreputable image carved in mahogany, and arrayed in +the sittings of a rag-picker's store. He was seated on the earthen +door-sill of the hut where Kars was sleeping. He was contemplating +with a pair of black, expressionless eyes the shadows growing in the +crevices of the far side of the gorge. The occasional whistle of a +bullet passing harmlessly overhead failed to disturb him in the +smallest degree. Why should he be disturbed? They were only fired by +"damn-fool neche." +</P> + +<P> +He sat quite still in that curious haunch-set fashion so truly Indian. +It was one of the many racial characteristics he could not shake +off—for all his boasted white habits—just as his native patience was +part of his being. Nothing at that moment seemed to concern him like +the watching of those growing shadows of night, and the steady +darkening of the evening sky. +</P> + +<P> +The defences were alive with watchful eyes. The movement of men was +incessant. The smell of cooking hung upon the evening air blending +with the smoke of the cook-house fire. Only the sluices stood up still +and deserted, and the dumps of pay dirt. But, for the moment, none of +these things were any concern of his. He had been detached from the +work of the camp. His belly was full to the brim of rough food, and he +was awaiting the psychological moment when the orders of his boss must +be carried out. Peigan Charley was nothing if not thorough in all he +undertook. +</P> + +<P> +It mattered very little to him if he were asked to cut an Indian's +throat, or if he were told by Kars to attend Sunday-school. He would +do as his "boss" said. The throat would be cut from ear to ear, if he +had to spend the rest of his days in the penitentiary. As for the +Sunday-school he would sing the hymns with the best, or die in the +attempt. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour passed under this straining vigil. He had stirred +slightly to ease his lean, stiffening muscles. The rough buildings of +the camp slowly faded under the growing darkness. The activity of the +camp became swallowed up, and only his keen ears told him of it. The +pack ponies at their picketings, under the sheer walls beyond the +cook-house, abandoned their restless movements over their evening meal +of grain. The moment was approaching. +</P> + +<P> +At last he stirred. He rose alertly and peered within the darkened +doorway. Then his moccasined feet carried him swiftly and silently to +the side of the bunk on which his "boss" was sleeping. +</P> + +<P> +Kars awoke with a start. He was sitting up with his blankets flung +back. The touch of a brown hand upon his shoulder had banished +completely the last of his deep slumber. +</P> + +<P> +"Boss come. Him dark—good." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian had said all he felt to be necessary. He stood gazing down +at the great shadowy figure sitting up on the bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"You're an infernal nuisance," Kars protested. But he swung himself +round and stood up. "Everything ready?" he went on, strapping a +revolver belt about his waist. "Boss Bill? He ready?" He picked up +his heavy automatic lying on the table at the head of his bunk, and +examined it with his fingers to ascertain if the clip of cartridges was +full. He reached under the bunk for some spare clips. Then he drew on +his pea-jacket and buttoned it up. +</P> + +<P> +"Boss Bill all ready. Him by hospital." +</P> + +<P> +"Good. Then come right on. Go tell Boss Bill. I go to the river." +</P> + +<P> +The dusky Indian shadow melted away in the darkness. Kars watched it +go. Then he filled up a brandy flask and thrust it into his pocket. A +moment later he passed down to the water's edge, only diverging to +exchange a few parting words with Abe Dodds who was in charge of the +defences. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell sat in the middle of the canoe, a smallish, thickly +coated figure with a beaver cap pressed low down on his iron gray head. +Kars and the Indian were at the paddles, kneeling and resting against +the struts. Kars was in the bow. He was a skilled paddle, but just +now the Indian claimed responsibility for their destination and the +landing. Charley, in consequence, felt his importance. Besides, there +was the praise for his skilful navigation yet to come. +</P> + +<P> +The rhythmic pressure of the paddles was perfectly muffled. The stream +was with them. It was a swift and silent progress. For all his +knowledge and experience Kars had difficulty in recognizing their +course. Then there were possible submerged boulders and other "snags" +and their danger to the frail craft. But these things were quite +undisturbing to the scout. His sight seemed to possess something of +feline powers. His sense of locality, and of danger, were something +almost uncanny on the water. He had made their present journey once +before, and his sureness was characteristic of his native instincts. +</P> + +<P> +The journey occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then a low spoken +order came from the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley tak' him," was all he said, and Kars, obediently, shipped his +paddle. +</P> + +<P> +Then came an exhibition of canoeing which rewarded the white men for +their faith in their disreputable henchman. Charley played with the +light craft in the great volume of stream as a feather might yield to a +gentle breeze. The canoe sidled in to the shore through a threatening +shoal of rocky outcrop, and the first stage of the journey was +completed. +</P> + +<P> +The second stage began after the little craft had been lifted and +placed high above the water's level. Scarcely a word was spoken as the +various articles were taken out of it, and matters were adjusted. +There was nothing slipshod in the arrangements. Every precaution was +taken. These men knew, only too well, the hazard of their undertaking, +and the necessity for provision against emergency. +</P> + +<P> +The profound darkness was their cover. It was also their danger. +There was no light anywhere under the clouded sky. The northern lights +were hidden, and not even a star was visible. It was what they +desired, what they needed. But the gaping jaws of the profound gorge +might easily form a trap for their undoing. +</P> + +<P> +Charley led the way over the rocks, and the murmur of cascading waters +greeted the white men's ears. It was another of those draining +waterways which scored the rock-bound river. The sound of the water +grew as they approached its outlet. Then, in a moment, it seemed they +were swallowed up by an inky blackness. +</P> + +<P> +Charley came to a halt and uncoiled the rawhide rope which he had taken +from the canoe. He paid it out, and passed one end of it to his boss. +He fastened the other end about his waist. Half-way down its length +Bill took possession of it. It was a guiding life-line so that those +behind him should not lose the trail. Then the upward struggle began. +</P> + +<P> +It was a fierce effort, as Charley's information had indicated. It was +a blind climb surrounded by every pitfall conceivable. The white men +had recollections of a climb of lesser degree, in full daylight, on the +far shore of the river. It had taken something like an hour of +tremendous effort. The difficulties and danger of it had been +incomparable with their present task. Not once, but a dozen times the +life-line was the saving clause for these men who had studied nature's +book in the northern wilderness from end to end. And none realized +better than they how much reliance they were placing in the hands of +the untutored Indian who was guiding them. +</P> + +<P> +Never for a moment was Charley at a loss. His movements were precise, +definite. He threaded his way amongst tree-trunks and a tangle of +undergrowth with a certainty that never faltered. He surmounted +jutting, slippery crags as though broad daylight marked out for him the +better course. There were moments when he stood on the brink of a +black abyss into which heavy waters fell to a depth of thirty or forty +feet. But always he held the life-line so that the course lay clear +behind him for those who had to follow. +</P> + +<P> +So the struggle went on. Higher and higher; up, up to what seemed +immeasurable heights. Always was there the threat of the water at +hand, a warning and a constant fear, as well as the main guide. There +was not a moment when life and limb were not threatened. It was only +the pliability of the moccasins, which each man was wearing, that made +the journey possible. It gave them foothold at times where no foothold +seemed possible. It was, as Charley had warned them, "much climb." +</P> + +<P> +But the task had been contemplated by minds tuned to great purpose. +Nor was there anything in the nature of the northern world that could +daunt that purpose. Bill might have found complaint to offer in the +cool contemplation of his philosophic mind, but the nature of him +defied all better sense, and drove him to a resolution as stubborn and +invincible as that of Kars himself. And Kars had no other thought but +of the objective to be gained. Only physical disaster could stop him. +So his whole strength was flung into the melting pot of achievement. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian had no other feeling than the pride of a brief leadership. +The aboriginal in him was intensely stirred. Here he was in his native +element. Here he could teach the great man who was, in his curiously +warped mind, far above all others. Besides, was there not at the end +to be a satisfaction of all the savage instincts in him? He knew the +Bell River neches, whom he hated so cordially in common with all others +of his race, were to be outwitted, defeated. And his share in that +outwitting was to be a large one, and would only go to prove further +what a contemptible thing the neche really was. +</P> + +<P> +So he brought to his aid all those faculties which he owed to his +forebears, and which had been practised in the purposes of his crooked +youth. Nor had he the wit to understand that the "contemptible" Indian +in him was serving him to the limit in this effort he was putting forth. +</P> + +<P> +The tremendous climb terminated on the wooded crests of the walls of +the great gorge. And the white men paused, thankful enough for the +moment of relaxation, while Charley scouted for his bearings. But the +pause was of the briefest. Charley was back almost before the tired +muscles had relaxed. The briefest announcement in the scout's pigeon +English and the journey was resumed. +</P> + +<P> +"Charley's eye all clear. We go?" +</P> + +<P> +The life-line was recoiled, and the scout wore it over one shoulder, +and across his chest. He had secret hopes for that rope which he +imparted to no one. +</P> + +<P> +The way through the virgin forest was almost brief. In a half hour +they stood clear of it with a dark stretch of open country stretching +out before them. Nor was there the least hesitation. Charley picked +out his way, as a cat will pass through the darkest apartment without +colliding with the furnishings. He seemed to read through the darkness +with a mental torch. +</P> + +<P> +A mile of the way lay over a stretch of attenuated grass along a ridge +that sloped away to the depths of a narrow valley, which converged upon +the river some miles to the north. Then came a drop, a steady decline +which brought them to a wider and shallower part of the valley they had +been skirting. What obstacles might lie in that hollow the white men +were powerless to estimate. They were entirely in the hands of the +Indian, and were content that this was so. +</P> + +<P> +None spoke, and the scout moved on with the swiftness of absolute +certainty. Shadowy bluffs loomed up, were skirted, were left behind. +Once or twice a grunted warning came from the leader as marshy ground +squelched under the soft moccasins. But that was all. Charley's whole +mind was set in deep concentration. Pitfalls, which might trap, were +of small enough importance. The trail was all-absorbing. +</P> + +<P> +A shallow lapping stream crossed their path. The banks were low and +quaking. They plunged into the knee-deep water, and their feet sank +into the bed of soft, reed-grown mud. They crossed the deep nearly +waist high, and floundered out on to the far bank. Then came a further +groping progress through a thicket of saplings and lesser growth. This +passed, they emerged upon an upward slope and firm patchy grassland. +It was at the summit of this that the Indian paused. +</P> + +<P> +He stood staring out in a southwesterly direction. For a while he +remained silent. Kars and Bill squeezed the water from their stout +moleskin trousers. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Charley flung out an arm. He was pointing with a lean +forefinger. +</P> + +<P> +"Neche lodge," he said. "Louis Creal him shack." +</P> + +<P> +Kars and Bill were at either side of him searching the dark horizon. A +light was shining dimly in the distance. Nor did it need much +understanding to realize that it came from behind a primitive, +cotton-covered window. +</P> + +<P> +"Good. How far?" +</P> + +<P> +It was Kars who spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Piece down. Piece up. So. One mile. Bluff. Small piece. Bell +River neches—plenty teepee." +</P> + +<P> +Charley spoke with his outstretched hand indicating a brief decline, +and the corresponding rise of ground beyond. Again it was the Indian +in him that would not be denied illustration by gesture. +</P> + +<P> +Again they moved forward. Again was the scout's rightness and accuracy +proved. The ground fell away into a short dip. It rose again in the +far side of the moist bottom, and its summit confronted them with a +clean cut barrier of tall pine woods. It was the end of the toilsome +journey. The screening bluff to the northeast, without which no Indian +village, however primitive, is complete. +</P> + +<P> +They were not to pass through it. The scout turned off sharply to the +left, and moved down its length with swift, untiring steps. Nor did he +pause again till the great bluff was passed, and once more the square, +yellow patch of light gazed out at them from the dark vault of night. +</P> + +<P> +With a brief explanation the Indian yielded up his command. +</P> + +<P> +"Him Louis Creal," he said pointing. Then he swung his arm away to the +right. "Him Indian lodge. Much teepee. Much dog." He paused. +"Charley him finish—yes?" he added almost regretfully. +</P> + +<P> +Kars promptly led the way back to the cover of the woods. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess we'll sit around," he said, in a low voice. "I'll hand out the +talk." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Under the deep hush of night the village of the Bell River terror +slumbered. The raw-pelt teepees, their doors laced fast, stood up like +shadowy mausoleums with rigid arms stretched high above their sharp +crowns, as though in appeal to the frowning night heavens. In vain +glory an occasional log hut, with flattened reed roof, stood out +surrounded by its complement of teepees to mark the petty chieftainship +of its owner. Otherwise there was nothing to vary the infinite squalor +of the life of a northern race. Squalor and filth, and almost bestial +existence, made up the life of aboriginal man in a land where glacier +and forest vied with each other as the dominating interpretation of +Nature. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was there need for optical demonstration of the conditions. It was +there to faculties of scent. It was there in the swarms of night +flies. It was there in the howl of the scavenging camp dogs, seeking, +in their prowling pack, that which the daylight denied them. Savage as +a starving wolf pack these creatures wallowed in the refuse of the +camp, and fought for offal as for a coveted delicacy. And so the women +and men laced tight their doors that the fly-tormented pappooses might +sleep in security. In daylight these foraging beasts were curs who +labored under the shadow of the club, at night they were feared even by +their masters. +</P> + +<P> +Kars, and those with him, understood the conditions. The night hid no +secrets from them with regard to the village which sheltered their +enemy. They had learned it all in years of the long trail, and +accepted it as a matter of course. But, for the present, the village +was not their concern. It was the yellow patch of light shining in the +darkness that held them and inspired their council. +</P> + +<P> +The light was widely apart from the village. It was on a rising ground +which overlooked the surroundings. It was one of the many eyes of a +low, large, rambling building, half store, half mere dwelling, which +searched the movements of the degraded tribe which yielded something +approaching slavery to the bastard white mind which lurked behind them. +</P> + +<P> +The silence of the place was intense. There was no yap of angry cur +here. There was no sign of life anywhere, beyond that yellow patch of +light. The place was large and stoutly constructed. The heavy +dovetailed logs suggested the handicraft of the white. The dimly +outlined roof pitches had nothing of the Indian about them. But in +other respects it was lacking. There were no fortifications. It was +open to approach on all sides. And its immediate neighborhood reeked +with the native odors of the Indian encampment. It suggested, for all +its aloofness, intimate relations with the aboriginal life about it. +It suggested the impossibility of escape for its owner from the taint +of his colored forebears. +</P> + +<P> +Though no sound broke the stillness about this habitation shadows were +moving under its outer walls. Gliding shadows moving warily, stealing +as though searching out its form, and measuring its vulnerability. +They hovered for moments at darkened window openings. The closed doors +afforded attraction for them. For half an hour the silent inspection +went on. +</P> + +<P> +These movements seemed to have system. No doorway or window escaped +attention. No angle but was closely searched. Yet for all the +movement, it was ghostly in its completeness of silence. Finally the +lighted window drew their whole attention, and, for many minutes, +nothing further interested them. +</P> + +<P> +At last, however, the gathering broke up. One figure passed away +around an angle of the building and disappeared in the direction of a +closed doorway. A second figure, larger than the others, passed on in +the direction of another door. The third, a slim, alert creature, +remained at the window. In one hand he held a long, keen-edged knife. +In the other a heavy pistol loaded in every barrel. +</P> + +<P> +Within the building an equally silent scene was being enacted. +</P> + +<P> +The room was low roofed, with a ceiling of cotton billowing downwards +between the nails which held it to the rafters. No minute description +could adequately picture the scene. It was half living-room, half +store for Indian trade, and wholly lacking in any sort of order or +cleanliness. +</P> + +<P> +One wall was completely covered with shelves laden with merchandise. +There were highly colored cotton prints and blankets. There were +bottles and canned goods. There were tobacco and kegs of fiery rye +whisky. There were packets and bundles, and deep partitioned trays of +highly colored beads. A counter, which stood before this piled up +litter, was no less laden. But that which was under the counter was +hidden from view. +</P> + +<P> +A corner of the room was crowded to the ceiling with valuable furs in +their rough-dried state. Another was occupied by a fuel box stacked +with split cord-wood, for the box stove which stood in the centre of +all. The earthen floor was foul with dust and litter, and suggested +that no broom had passed over it for weeks. +</P> + +<P> +But the quality of the place was of less interest than its human +occupants. There were two. Both were clad in the thick, warmth-giving +garments characteristic of the north. One stood behind the counter +leaning over an account book of considerable proportions and was +absorbed in its perusal. The other was seated with his feet resting on +the steel rail of the stove, basking in its warmth. His back was to +the lamp and the cotton-covered window, and he was gazing in the +direction of the man at the counter through a haze of smoke from his +pipe. He was lounging in the only piece of furniture the room boasted, +except for the table on which a large glass of spirits stood adjacent +to the oil lamp. Not once, but several times he plied himself with the +ardent spirits, while the man absorbed in his ledger turned the pages +before him. The man in the chair continued to drink without stint. He +drank with the abandon of one who has long since done with the +restraint imposed by civilization. +</P> + +<P> +The man at the counter worked on silently. He, too, had a charged +glass beside him. But, for the moment, it was neglected. His figures +absorbed his whole attention. +</P> + +<P> +At last he looked up. His yellow skin was shining. His wicked black +eyes were twinkling, which, with the scars distorting his features, +gave him a look of curiously malevolent triumph. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess they're kind of rough figgers," he apologized. "But they're +near enough to make good readin'." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the total?" The demand was sharp and masterful. +</P> + +<P> +"Just under ten thousand ounces since last reckoning. That's the last +half of last summer's wash-up. There's nigh a thousand tons of dirt to +clean still. It's the biggest wash we've had, an' it's growing. When +we've cleaned out this gang we won't need to do a thing but shout. +There ain't no limit to the old gorge," he added gleefully. "When +we've passed the bones of John Kars to the camp dogs, why, we can jest +make up our bank roll how we darn please." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The man at the stove emptied and replenished his glass, and sat +handling it like one who treasures its contents. But there was a +frowning discontent in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"We need to pass those bones along quick," he demurred. "We haven't +done it yet." +</P> + +<P> +The half-breed at the counter searched the discontented face with +speculative eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You guessin' we can't?" +</P> + +<P> +There was incredulity in his tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't guess a thing. We've just—got to." The surly determination +was unconvincing. +</P> + +<P> +"An' why not?" The half-breed's eyes were widely questioning. "It +don't worry me a thing. We fixed Mowbray all right. He was no blamed +sucker. I tell you right here there's no white outfit goin' to dip +into my basket, an' get away with it. We'll hammer 'em good and +proper. An' if that don't fix 'em, why, I guess there's always the +starvation racket. That don't never fail when it's backed by winter +north of 'sixty.' Them curs'll get his bones all——" +</P> + +<P> +But the man at the stove was no longer paying attention. He had turned +in his chair, and his eyes were on the door. His glass was poised in +the act of raising it to his lips. It remained untouched. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought——" Nor did he complete that which he had been about to +say. +</P> + +<P> +The door was thrust wide with a jolt. There was the swift clash of a +knife ripping the cotton window behind him. Then came an incredulous +ejaculation, as two guns were held leveled in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"God! Murray McTavish!" +</P> + +<P> +The movements of those moments were something electrical. Everything +seemed to happen at once. Every man playing his little part in the +drama of it was accustomed to think and act in the moment of emergency. +These men owed their present existence to their capacity for survival +where danger was ever lurking. +</P> + +<P> +Seconds counted on the fingers on one hand were sufficient to decide +the issue. A shot sung in through the uncovered window which carried +back no "spat" to the man who fired it. But the eyes which had guided +it beheld the half-breed at the counter sprawl across the account book +which had yielded him so much satisfaction. Almost at the instant of +his fall a lean, agile, dusky, disreputable figure leaped into the room +through the aperture which his knife had freed of its covering. +</P> + +<P> +Kars in the doorway had been no less swift. His automatic spoke, but +it spoke no quicker than a similar weapon in the hands of Murray +McTavish. +</P> + +<P> +It was a situation pregnant with possibilities. The bulky body of the +trader of Fort Mowbray had moved with the quickness, the agility of +lightning. His glass had dropped to the filthy floor with a crash, and +its place in his hand had been taken by a pistol in the twinkle of an +eye. He was on his feet, and had hurled his bullet at the figure in +the doorway in the space of time elapsing between John Kars' startled +exclamation and the discharge of his weapon, which had been almost on +the instant. +</P> + +<P> +With deadly purpose and skill Murray had taken no aim. He had fired +for the pit of the stomach with the instinct of the gunman. Perhaps it +was the haste, perhaps the whisky had left its effect on him. His shot +tore its way through Kars' pea-jacket, grazing the soft flesh of his +side below his ribs. The second and third shots, as the automatic did +its work, were even less successful. There was no fourth shot, for the +weapon dropped from Murray's nerveless hand as Kars' single shot tore +through his adversary's extended arm and shattered the bones. +</P> + +<P> +The injured man promptly sought to recover his weapon with the other +hand. But no chance remained. A dusky figure leaped upon his back +from behind, and the dull gleam of a long knife flourished in the +lamplight. +</P> + +<P> +Then came Kars' fierce tones. +</P> + +<P> +"Push your hands up, blast you!" +</P> + +<P> +Peigan Charley's arm was crooked about the trader's neck. There was no +mercy in his purpose. The fierce joy of the moment was intoxicating +him. The knife. He yearned, with savage lust, to drive it deep into +the fat body struggling under his hold. But Murray understood. One +hand went up. The other made an effort, but remained helpless at his +side. Instantly Kars stayed the ruthless hand of the savage. +</P> + +<P> +"Quit it, Charley!" he cried. "Loose your hold and see to the other. +I got this one where I need him." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian yielded reluctantly. He looked on for a moment while Kars +advanced and secured the trader's fallen weapon. Then he passed across +to the counter. +</P> + +<P> +The half-breed was badly wounded. But the Indian had neither pity nor +scruple. He turned him over where he lay groaning across his counter. +He searched him and relieved him of a pair of loaded revolvers. Then, +standing over him, he waited for his chief. +</P> + +<P> +Nor had he to wait long. Kars completed his work in silence. For the +time words were unnecessary. Murray was suffering intensely, but he +gave no sign. His great eyes, glowing with malevolent fire, watched +his victorious rival's movements, and a growing dread took possession +of him at his silence. He was searched, carefully searched. Then Kars +turned to the Indian as a thin haze of smoke crept in through the jamb +of a door which communicated with some other portion of the building. +</P> + +<P> +"Get him outside," he said. "Pass that rope along." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian uncoiled the rawhide rope from about his chest and brought +it across. Kars pointed at the fat figure of Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"Get it about his feet so he can walk—that's all." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian's appreciation rose. It was displayed in the fashion in +which he secured the trader. He erred generously on the side of +security. When he had finished Murray could hobble. There was no +chance of his escape. +</P> + +<P> +The mist of smoke was deepening. The smell of burning was in the air. +The prisoner suddenly displayed alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake get out of here," he cried, in a sudden access of +panic. "The place is afire. The cellars under are full of explosives." +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I figgered." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' rejoinder was calmly spoken. He pointed at the half-breed. +</P> + +<P> +"See to him, Charley," he said. And he waited till the Indian had +roughly dragged the wounded man into the open. Then he turned to the +panic-stricken trader. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you," he commanded, and pointed at the doorway. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The night sky was lit with a dull red glow. A fierce fire was raging +on the rising ground beyond the Indian village. A great concourse of +dusky figures, men, and women, and pappooses were gathered at a safe +distance watching with awe the riot of that terror which haunted their +lives. +</P> + +<P> +The whole village was awake, and had turned out to witness the calamity +which had befallen. Others had joined them. Those others who had +contemplated the destruction of the white invaders down in the river +gorge. Their crude minds held no clue to the cause of the thing which +had happened. Each and all wondered and feared at the non-appearance +of the men who led them. But none dared approach the fire. None +thought to extend help to its possible victims. Fire was a demon they +feared. It was a demon they were ready enough to invoke to aid them in +war. But his wrath turned against themselves was something to be +utterly dreaded. So they stood and watched—from afar off. +</P> + +<P> +There were others watching, too. But they were still farther off. +They were standing on a high ground in the shelter of a bluff of trees. +Their direction was towards the river, where the Indian had led them +earlier in the night. +</P> + +<P> +The fire licked up towards the heavy sky in jagged tongues of flame. +The Indians were held fascinated by their own terror. The others were +waiting for other reasons. +</P> + +<P> +Two figures were on the ground. One was squatting on his heavy +buttocks. The other was stretched prone and helpless. Two men were +standing guard, their eyes wide for that which was to come. The Indian +Charley was absent. He had gone to summon aid from the river. +</P> + +<P> +That which was awaited came when the fire was at its height. It came +with a roar, tossing the licking flames into a wild chaos of protest. +They were swept apart, and a great detonation boomed across to +expectant ears. A pillar of smoke and flame shot up to the heavens. +Then a deluge of smoke partially obscured all vision. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" Kars' monosyllable was full of intense satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll go hungry for fighting fodder," said Bill. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was there any less satisfaction in his comment. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE END OF THE TERROR +</H3> + + +<P> +Kars stood on the embankment watching the receding form of the aged +chief, Thunder-Cloud, taking his departure with his escort. It was an +outfit to inspire ridicule, were it not for the seriousness lying +behind the human passions governing the situation. Kars understood. +Those with him understood. Peigan Charley alone lacked appreciation. +He regretted the old man's coming under a truce. He even more +regretted his departure—whole. But then Peigan Charley was a savage, +and would never be otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +The old man tottered along over the rough foreshore which had been +cleared of its human debris. His blanket-clad shoulders, though gay +with color, were bowed with senility, a mockery of the vaunting +splendor which glared out in vivid stripes. His escort, too, was +mostly elderly. There were no fighting men in it. They were the +counselors, who worked overtime with inadequate brains, and delivered +the result by word of mouth with all the confidence of their kind. +</P> + +<P> +It had been an interesting moment for the leaders of the camp. For +Kars it had been something in the nature of a triumph. It had yielded +him his reward for a superlative effort of reckless daring, in which +the loyalty of his companions had helped him. +</P> + +<P> +The old man had talked. He had babbled on through his interpreter at +great length. His talk had been a rambling declaration of friendship +for the white man. He had assured Kars that he, Kars, was held in +great personal esteem by the Indians. The last thing in any Indian +mind was a desire to shed his blood, or the blood of any of his +"braves," who fought so magnificently. He assured him that he had come +to say that all the Indians, even those who had been so very fierce, +and were now so no longer, would gladly smoke the pipe of peace with +their white brothers, and bury the hatchet now and forever. +</P> + +<P> +Nor did he inform his audience of the events which had led up to this +desire, and of which he believed they must be ignorant. He failed to +mention that their own white leaders had vanished, literally in smoke, +that all supplies necessary to carry on the war had been completely cut +off by the destruction by fire of the magazine in which these things +were stored. On these matters he was discreetly reticent, and Kars was +satisfied that it should be so. On his part he had no desire to +enlighten him to the fact that, at that moment, Murray McTavish was +lying in the extemporized hospital in the camp with a shattered arm, +and that the half-breed, Louis Creal, was slowly dying with a bullet +through his lungs, under the same primitive shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had listened. And his whole attitude was one of clear-eyed +wisdom. He assured the crafty old man that he was certain of the Bell +River Indians' good faith. He was furthermore convinced that the men +of Bell River were the finest Indian race in the world, with whom it +was the whole object of a white man's life to live in peace. He was +certain that the recent events had been inspired by powers of evil +which had now been destroyed, and that he saw no obstacle to cementing +a lasting friendship with the Indians, which he was sure would lead to +happy days of plenty for the noble red man. +</P> + +<P> +And so the farce had gone on to its end with truly Indian ceremonial. +But it did not come to a close until Kars had elicited from the old +rascal a complete story of the murder of Allan Mowbray. To him this +was of far more importance than all the rest of the old sinner's talk. +The story was extracted piecemeal, and was given in rambling, evasive +fashion. But it was given completely in the end, and with a veracity +which Kars had no reason to doubt. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long enough story, which became a record of perfidy and crime +laid entirely at the doors of Murray McTavish and Louis Creal. +</P> + +<P> +The Indians had known Allan Mowbray for many years. They were good +friends. Allan Mowbray clothed and fed them in return for furs. Then +came a time when the white man found yellow dust on the river bank. He +liked it. He told the Indians so, and showed them how to find it, and +promised them, if they would collect all they could, and trade it with +him, they would never want for anything. He sent the half-breed, Louis +Creal, to see they did the work right, and fitted him out a store. +Louis Creal was a servant of Allan Mowbray. He was not a partner. +</P> + +<P> +A great prosperity set in for the Indians, and they were very pleased +and very contented. Then came a time when the other white man +appeared, Murray McTavish. He made great changes. The Indians had to +work harder, but they got more trade. They got whisky. They grew more +and more prosperous. The new white man was always smiling and +pleasant, and the young men liked him very much, because he made the +squaws and old men do most of the work, while they were given rifles, +and allowed to practice the arts of war which had died out in their +tribe for so long. +</P> + +<P> +The new white man then told them that they must not let any other +Indians come near Bell River. These traveling Indians were a great +danger. Finding the Bell River folk prosperous and happy they would +become envious. They would come in the night and burn and massacre. +The young men realized the danger, and they went on the war-path. All +who came near were killed. Then the young men scoured the country +around, and burned the homes of all Indians they found, and killed +their fighting men. The new white man was very pleased. +</P> + +<P> +After a very long time Murray McTavish and Louis Creal held a big +council with the young men. The white man told them they were in very +great danger. He said that Allan Mowbray was no longer to be trusted. +He was a traitor. He assured them that Allan Mowbray was going through +the country telling the Indians and white folk of the yellow dust on +the river. This was betraying the Indians. For now all people would +come along in such numbers they would sweep the Bell River Indians +away, they would kill them all, and burn their homes, and they would +kill the white men, too, so that they could get all the dust that +belonged to the people of Bell River. The only way to save themselves +was by killing Allan Mowbray. +</P> + +<P> +The young men were very angry, and very fierce. And the white man +offered them council and advice. He showed them how they could trap +Allan Mowbray and kill him. And Louis Creal would help them. +</P> + +<P> +This the young men did on the banks of the river, led by Louis Creal. +</P> + +<P> +But the old villain was careful to explain that now, now, at last—of +course since the ruin of their prospects through the destruction of +their sources of supply—all the Bell River tribe was sorry that Allan +Mowbray had been killed. They understood that he was not a traitor. +It was the others who were traitors. Allan Mowbray was killed because +they wanted all the yellow dust themselves, and he, Thunder-Cloud, +personally, as well as the young men, was very glad that they had both +been found out by the Indians. They were very, very bad men who had +wanted Kars and his people killed, too, but fortunately the Indians had +found out that Kars was a good man, and a friend of the Indian, and so +it was the desire of all to live in peace. In fact the Indian would be +very pleased to trade yellow dust with him. +</P> + +<P> +As the old chief vanished in the region of the Indian workings Kars +turned back to his camp. For some moments he surveyed the scene with +serious eyes. It was all over. Already the persistent energy of Abe +Dodds was making itself apparent. The pumps had been restarted. The +sluices were awash, and gangs were starting to demolish the embankments +of auriferous pay dirt. The armed camp was vanishing before the breath +of peace, and the change brought him a measure of relief he remained +wholly unaware of. +</P> + +<P> +It had been a desperate time while it had lasted. A desperateness +quite unrealized until it was over, and complete victory had been +achieved. And, curiously enough, by far his most anxious time had been +the safe return from his raid on Louis Creal's store, with his +prisoners. Peigan Charley had been unfailing. The Indian had reached +the camp and found it secure. There had been no attack in his absence. +He had explained the situation in his own lurid but limited language to +Abe Dodds, and the assistance needed had been promptly forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +The whole enterprise, the capture of the prisoners, the burning of +Louis Creal's store, had been carried out without the Indian's +obtaining an inkling of that which was going forward. And +unquestionably it was due largely to this absolute secrecy in the +operation that the present peace offer had been so promptly forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +But in the midst of his triumph Kars had little enough rejoicing. He +had been shocked—shocked beyond words. And the shock left a haunting +memory which dominated every other feeling. It was Murray McTavish's +share in the villainies of the sombre river. +</P> + +<P> +It was incredible—almost. But the worst feature of the whole thing +lay in the man's callous display. This murderer, this murderer of her +father, this man who was her father's friend, had dared to contemplate +marriage with Jessie. He had asked her to marry him while the memory +of his crime must still have been haunting, almost before the red blood +of his victim had dried upon his ruthless hands. It was unspeakable. +</P> + +<P> +The smiling, genial Murray. The man of bristling energy and apparent +good-will. The man who had assumed the protection of the women-folk +left defenceless by his own crime—a murderer. The horror of it all +left Kars consumed by a cold fury more terrible than any passion he had +ever known. With his whole soul he demanded justice. With his whole +soul he was resolved that justice should be done. +</P> + +<P> +He remembered so many things now. He remembered the shipment of arms +with which, he had assured Bill, he believed Murray intended to wipe +out the Bell River scourge. And he remembered Bill's doubtful +acceptance of it. Now he knew from bitter experience the meaning of +that shipment. It was the murder of himself. The massacre of his +"outfit." An added crime to leave Murray free to wallow in his gold +lust. Free to possess himself of Jessie Mowbray. He wondered how long +Louis Creal would have survived had Murray achieved his purpose. +</P> + +<P> +His discovery had been incredible—<I>almost</I>. But not quite. +Subconscious doubts of Murray had always been his. Bill Brudenell's +doubts of the man had been more than subconscious. The growth of his +own subtle antagonism towards the trader had always disturbed him. But +its growth had gone on while he remained powerless to check it. He had +set it down to rivalry for a woman's love. He had accepted it as such. +But now it possessed a deeper significance. He believed it to have +been instinctive distrust. But a murderer. No. The reality was +beyond his wildest imaginings. +</P> + +<P> +He left the embankment and passed back to the shanty where the council +of peace had been held. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was within. He was seated on his bunk contemplating the automatic +pistol which Kars had taken from Murray McTavish. It was lying across +his knee, and one hand was gripping its butt. The Indian reek still +permeated the atmosphere, and Kars exhaled in noisy disgust as he +entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee! It's a stinking outfit," he exclaimed, in tones that left no +doubt of his feelings, as he flung himself on his bunk and began to +fill his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +Bill glanced up. His gaze was preoccupied. +</P> + +<P> +"Neches do stink," he admitted. +</P> + +<P> +Kars struck a match. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't worrying about the neches. The neches don't cut any ice with +me. It's Murray." +</P> + +<P> +Bill shook his head while he watched Kars light his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Then it's more than a stinking outfit. Maybe I should say 'worse.'" +His eyes were twinkling. It was not with amusement. It was the nature +of them. +</P> + +<P> +But Kars denied him with an oath. +</P> + +<P> +"It couldn't be." +</P> + +<P> +Bill turned his gaze towards the doorway. He was watching the blaze of +spring sunlight, and the hovering swarms of flies which haunted the +river bank. +</P> + +<P> +"But it could. It is," he said deliberately, and his eyes came back to +the weapon in his hand. Then he added with some force: +</P> + +<P> +"There'll need to be a hanging—sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Allan was murdered at his instigation. He'll certainly hang for it," +Kars agreed. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't thinking that way." +</P> + +<P> +"How then?" +</P> + +<P> +"This." Bill held up the gun. +</P> + +<P> +"That? It's Murray's gun. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Bill interrupted him, a fierce light leaping into his eyes and +transfiguring them in a manner Kars had never before beheld. "It's +Murray's gun, and it's the gun that handed death to young Alec Mowbray +at the Elysian Fields." +</P> + +<P> +"God!" +</P> + +<P> +Kars' ejaculation was something in the nature of a gasp. Renewed +horror was looking out of his eyes. His pipe was held poised in his +fingers while it was allowed to go out. A curious feeling of +helplessness robbed him of further articulation. +</P> + +<P> +The two men were gazing eye to eye. At last, with an effort, Kars +flung off the silence that held him. +</P> + +<P> +"How—how d'you know?" he demanded in thick tones. +</P> + +<P> +Bill held up a nickel bullet between his finger and thumb. Then he +displayed the half empty cartridge clip he had extracted from the +weapon. +</P> + +<P> +"They're the same make, and—this is the bullet I dug out of poor +Alec's body." +</P> + +<P> +Kars breathed deeply. He regarded the various articles, held +fascinated as by something evil but irresistible. He watched Bill as +he replaced them on the bunk beside him. Then, for a few seconds, the +sounds of activity outside, and the buzz of the swarming flies alone +broke the silence. +</P> + +<P> +But the moment of silence passed. It was broken by a fierce oath, and +it came from Bill. A hot flush stained his tanned cheeks. His anger +transformed him. +</P> + +<P> +"God in Heaven!" he cried. "I've suspected right along. Guess I must +have <I>known</I>, and couldn't believe. I'm just mad—mad at the thought +of it. Say, John, he's had us beaten the whole way. And now it's too +late. I could cry like a kid. I could break my fool head against the +wall. The whole darn thing was telling itself to me, way back months, +down in Leaping Horse, and I just wouldn't listen. And now the boy's +dead." +</P> + +<P> +He drew a deep breath. But he went on almost at once. And though his +tones were more controlled his emotion was working deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"D'you know why I brought that bullet along? No," as Kars shook his +head. "I guess I don't quite know myself. And yet it seemed to me it +was necessary. I sort of felt if we got behind things here on Bell +River we'd find a link between them and that bullet. Now I know. Say, +I've got it all now. It's acted itself all to me right here in this +shack. It was acting itself to me up there in that ruined shack across +the river, when you handed me your talk of Murray's purpose, only I +guess I wasn't sitting in the front row, and hadn't the opera glasses +to see with. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it's the same darn story over again," he went on with passionate +force. "It's the same with a different setting, and different +characters. It's the same motive. Just the rotten darn motive this +world'll never be rid of so long as human nature lasts. We've both +seen it down there in Leaping Horse, and, like the fools we were, +guessed the long trail was clear of it. We're the fools and suckers. +God made man, and the devil handed him temptation. I'll tell you the +things I've seen floating around in the sunlight, where the flies are +worrying, while I've been sitting around here looking at that gun you +grabbed from Murray. It's a tough yarn that'll sicken you. But it's +right. And you'll learn it's right before the police set their rope +around Murray McTavish's neck. I don't think Murray's early history +needs to figger. If it did, maybe it wouldn't be too wholesome. Where +Allan found him I don't know, and Murray hasn't felt like talking about +things himself. Maybe Allan knew his record. I can't say. Anyway, as +I said, it doesn't figger. There's mighty few folks who hit north of +'sixty' got much of a Sunday-school record, and they're mostly out for +a big piece of money quick. Anyway, in this thing Allan found Murray +and brought him along a partner in a gold stake. He brought him +because the proposition was too big, and too rich for him to handle on +his own. Get that. And Murray knew what he was coming to. That was +Allan's way. He handed him the whole story because he was a straight +dealing feller who didn't understand the general run of crookedness +lying around. It was no partnership in a bum trading outfit. It was a +big gold proposition, and <I>it had to be kept secret</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray came along up. Maybe he had no thought then of what he was +going to do later. Maybe he had an eye wide open anyway. He got a +grip on things right away. He found a feller who didn't know how to +distrust a louse. He found two white women, as simple as the snow on +the hilltops, and a boy who hadn't a heap of sense. He found an old +priest who just lived for the love of helping along the life of those +around him. And he found gold, such as maybe he'd dreamed of but never +thought to see. Do you get it? Do I need to tell you? Murray, hard +as a flint, and with a pile set out in front of him for the taking. +Can you hear him telling himself in that old Fort that he's there on a +share only, while he runs the things for a simple feller, and his +folks, who haven't a real notion beyond the long trail? I can hear +him. I can hear the whole rotten story as he thinks it out. It's the +same, always the same. The mania for gold gets men mad. It drives +them like a slave under the lash. But Murray is cleverer than most. A +heap cleverer. This thing is too big for any fool chance. It wants to +go so no tracks are left. So no one, not even those simple women, or +that honest priest, can make a guess. So there isn't a half-breed or +Indian around the Fort can get wise. There's just one way to work it, +and for nigh ten years he schemes so the Bell River terror under Louis +Creal gets busy. We've seen the result here. We heard his yarn from +old Thunder-Cloud, and to fix things the way he needed he only had to +buy over a dirty half-breed, which is the best production of hell +walking the earth. +</P> + +<P> +"With the murder of Allan, <I>by the Indians</I>, his whole play begins. He +goes up with an outfit. There's no fooling. His outfit sees the +result. There's nothing to be done. So he gets right back with the +mutilated body, and mourns with the folk he's injured. Yes, it's +clever. That's the start. What next? Murray keeps to the play of the +loyal friend and protector. It's all smooth to him, and only needs the +playing. The store and its trade, and his fortune are left by Allan to +his widow. He's completed his first step without a snag cropping up. +Meanwhile you come along. +</P> + +<P> +"Murray's quick to see things. Louis Creal tells him you've been +around Bell River. He tells him you've found the Indian workings. He +tells him he nearly got you cold. Besides that Murray figgers around +you and Jessie. It's the first snag he's hit, and it's one to be +cleared. But it's just incidental to his scheme, which has to be put +through. And his scheme? It's so easy—now. He's got to marry Jessie +and so make himself one of the family. The widow'll be glad to hand +over her fortune to be administered by Jessie's husband. And, in the +end, the whole outfit'll come into Jessie's hands, and so into his. +But there's a further snag. Alec is to get the business at his +mother's death. And Alec hasn't any use for Murray, and, if foolish, +is hot-headed. Alec has to be got rid of. How? The father's murder +can't be safely repeated. How then? Alec is yearning for life. He's +yearning to wallow in the sink of Leaping Horse. Murray encourages +him. Murray persuades his mother. Murray takes him down there, and +flings him into the sink. But Murray hasn't forgotten you. Not by a +lot. He's going to match your outfit. He's going to measure his wits +against yours. He's going to get you done up on Bell River the same as +Allan Mowbray, and the play will be logical for all who hear of it. So +he ships in the supplies and makes ready. Meanwhile the boy plays into +his hands. He gets all tied up with the woman belonging to Shaunbaum. +And Shaunbaum figgers to kill him. Murray needs that. It'll save him +acting that way himself. But he's taking no chances. He watches all +the while. He locates everything, every move Shaunbaum makes. How I +can't guess, but it's easy to a feller like Murray. Well, the gunmen +get around. Maybe you'll say this is just a guess. It don't seem that +way to me. I sort of see it all doing. The day Alec's to be shot up +by Shaunbaum's gunmen gets around. That morning Murray pulls out +north. Then comes night. He sneaks back. I seem to see Murray +sitting around in one of the boxes opposite us. Maybe he came in +quietly amongst the crowd. He keeps close in that box, hidden. He +watches. His eye is on the gun-men. If they do their work right, why, +he'll clear out free of the blood of the boy. If they don't——? +</P> + +<P> +"But the boy had a dash of his father in him. He knew trouble was +hitting his trail. When it caught him up he was ready. He was quicker +than the gun-men. And Murray was watching and saw. His gun was ready +behind the curtains of that box, and it spoke, and spoke quick. The +gunman was dead. Alec was dead. There was no trail left. Only the +bullet I dug out of the poor kid's body. Murray cleared on the +instant, and didn't have to <I>pass through the hall</I>. The rest——" +Bill finished up with a comprehensive gesture indicating the camp about +them. +</P> + +<P> +The work going on outside sounded doubly loud in the silence that +followed the rapidly told story. Kars' brooding eyes were turned on +the sunlit doorway. His pipe had remained cold. +</P> + +<P> +It was almost a visible effort with which he finally bestirred himself. +</P> + +<P> +"You guess he quit his outfit and returned to Leaping Horse," he said. +"You can't prove it." +</P> + +<P> +Bill shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll be easy. His outfit can prove it. He either quit it or didn't +join it in the morning. The p'lice'll get it out of them. When they +learn what's doing they won't be yearning to screen Murray. Specially +Keewin." +</P> + +<P> +"No. Keewin was Allan's best boy. Keewin would have given his life +for Allan." +</P> + +<P> +Kars drew a deep breath. He sat up and struck a match. His pipe began +to glow under his deep inhalations. He stood up and moved towards the +door. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the foulest thing I've ever heard. And—I guess you've got it +right, Bill," he admitted. "I allow we've done all we can. It's right +up to the p'lice." He abruptly turned, and his steady eyes stonily +regarded his friend. "He's got to hang for this. Get me? If the law +don't fix things that way, I swear before God I'll hunt his trail till +I get him cold—with my own hands." +</P> + +<P> +Bill's reply was a silent nod. He had nothing to add. He knew all +that was stirring beyond that stony regard, and his sympathies were in +full harmony. The bigness of these two men was unlimited by any of the +conventions of human civilization. They were too deeply steeped in the +teachings of the long trail to bow meekly to the laws set up by men. +Their doctrines were primitive, but they saw with wide eyes the justice +of the wild. +</P> + +<P> +Kars stood for a few moments lost in profound thought. Then he stirred +again and moved to depart. +</P> + +<P> +"Where you going?" Bill demanded, recalling himself from his own +contemplation. Kars turned again. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to hand over to Abe and the boys," he said. "They're +needing this thing. Guess I'm quit of Bell River. There's a wealth of +gold here'll set them crazy. And they can help 'emselves all they +choose. You and I, Bill, are going to see this thing through, and our +work don't quit till Murray's hanging by the neck. Then—then—why +then," a smile dawned in his eyes, and robbed them of that frigidity +which had so desperately held them, "then I'll ask you to help me fix +things with Father José so Jessie and I can break a new trail that +don't head out north of 'sixty.'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +Bell River lay far behind. Leagues beyond the shadowy hills serrating +the purple horizon, it was lost like a bad dream yielding to the light +of day. +</P> + +<P> +For Kars the lure of it all was broken, broken beyond repair. The wide +expanses of the northland had become a desert in which life was no +longer endurable. The wind-swept crests, the undulating, barren plains +no longer spoke of a boundless freedom and the elemental battle. These +things had become something to forget in the absorbing claim of a life +to come, wherein the harshness of battle had no place. The darkling +woods, scarce trodden by the foot of man, no longer possessed the +mystic charm of childhood's fancy. The trackless wastes held only +threat, upon which watchful eyes would now gladly close. The stirring +glacial fields of summer, monsters of the ages, boomed out their +maledictions upon ears deaf to all their pristine wrath. The westward +streams and trail were alone desirable, for, at the end of these +things, the voice was calling. The voice of Life which every man must +ultimately hear and obey. +</P> + +<P> +Such was the mood of the man who for years had dreamed the dream of the +Northland; the bitter, free, remorseless Northland. To him she had +given of her best and fiercest. Battle and peace within her bosom had +been his. He was of the strong whom the Northland loves. She had +yielded him her all, a mistress who knows no middle course. And now he +was satiated. +</P> + +<P> +She had gambled for his soul. She had won and held it. And, in the +end, she had been forced to yield her treasure. Such is the fate of +the Northland wanton, bending to the will of Nature supreme. Her hold +is only upon superb youth, which must find outlet for its abounding +life. She has no power beyond. The ripening purpose of the Great +Creator thrusts her back upon herself, beaten, desolate. +</P> + +<P> +The elemental in Kars was still a great living force. That could never +change. Just now it was submerging in an ocean of new emotion he was +powerless to deny. The strength of his manhood was undiminished. It +was even greater for the revolution sweeping his estate. Just as the +passionate fire of his elemental nature had swept him all his years, so +now the claims of human love coursed through the strong life channels +which knew no half measure. Now he yearned for the gentler dream, even +as he had yearned for all that which can be claimed by strength alone. +</P> + +<P> +His whole being was centred upon the goal towards which he was +speeding. His light outfit was being driven by the speed of his desire. +</P> + +<P> +So Bell River was far behind. All the wide wastes of forest and hill, +of canyon and tundra, of glacier and torrent, had passed under his +feet. Now the swift waters of Snake River were speeding under driven +paddles. Another day and he would gaze once more into the sweet eyes +which meant for him the haven his soul so ardently craved. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell, too, had shaken himself free. The nauseating breath of +Bell River had driven him before it. He, too, had loved the North. +Perhaps he still loved his mistress, but he cursed her, too, and cursed +her beyond forgiveness or recall. His eyes were turned to the west, +like the eyes of his friend. But the only voice summoning him was the +voice of a spirit wearied with the contemplation of men's evil. This +was the final journey for him, and the long nights of the trail were +spent in a pleasant dreaming of sunlit groves, of warming climes. +</P> + +<P> +The faithful Charley was untouched by any gentler emotion. His crude +mind was beyond such. He was satisfied that his boss had given the +order to "mush." It mattered nothing to him if the journey ended at +the Pole. Perhaps he regretted the Indians left behind him alive. But +even so, there were compensations. Had he not a prisoner, a white man +under his charge? And had his boss not assured him that that prisoner +would hang by the neck at his journey's end? Yes, that was so. It +seemed almost a matter for regret to his unsophisticated understanding +that the hanging could not be done on the trail. That the joy of +performing the operation might not be his own reward for faithful +service. Still, his boss had spoken. It was sufficient. +</P> + +<P> +Night closed down within thirty miles of Fort Mowbray. An early camp +was made for food and rest. The journey was to go through the night +that it might be completed before dawn broke. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the spiral of smoke from the camp-fire rose on the +still air, and helped dispel the attacks of the mosquitoes. Then came +the welcome smell of cooking. The Indian crew lolled about the +dew-laden bank with the unconcern and luxury of men whose iron muscles +are welcomely relaxed. One of their number was at the fire preparing +food, and Charley hectored whilst he superintended. Kars and Bill were +seated apart under the shelter of a bush. For the time they had charge +of their prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +Murray McTavish was unchanged in appearance, except that his smile had +died from his round face and his curious eyes shone with a look that +was daily growing more hunted. Nearly six weeks had passed since Kars' +bullet had crashed through his arm, and left a shattered limb behind +it. His final journey had had to be delayed while Bill had exercised +his skill in healing that the prisoner might face his ultimate ordeal +whole. Now the healing was nearing completion, but the irony of it all +lay in the fact that the prisoner's well-being was of necessity the +first thought of those who controlled the itinerary. +</P> + +<P> +From the moment of Murray's capture his attitude had become definite +and unchanging. His sufferings from his shattered arm were his own. +He gave vent to no complaint. He displayed no sign. A moody +preoccupation held him aloof from all that passed about him. He obeyed +orders, but his obedience was sullen and voiceless. +</P> + +<P> +But that which he refused to his captors by word of mouth, by action, +was there for the reading. His big eyes could not remain silent. The +mask-like smile was no longer part of him. The knowledge of his +defeat, and all its consequences, looked out of glowing depths which +shone with so mysterious a light. And daily the pages were turned for +the reading of the tragedy, the scenes of which were passing behind +them. Resolute in will he was powerless to deny emotion. And the eyes +which saw and watched, day and night, on the long journey, read with +perfect understanding. His mental sufferings were far beyond any that +his wounded body could have inspired. +</P> + +<P> +The westward goal for which his captors were making had a far different +meaning for him. He only saw in it the harvest of defeat, and all it +meant of human punishment. But far, far worse was the loss of all that +which he had labored to achieve through his crimes. Nor was the sting +of defeat lessened by the knowledge that it had been accomplished by +the one man he had instinctively feared from his first meeting with him. +</P> + +<P> +Now, as they waited while the Indian prepared a steaming supper of +rough but welcome food, the three men sat with the smoke of their pipes +doing battle with the mosquito hordes which cursed the country. +</P> + +<P> +For long it remained a silent gathering. Such is the way of the long +trail. Silence is the rule after the first routine has settled down. +A week of close companionship, where Nature's silences are deep and +unbroken, and all exchange of thought becomes exhausted. Only the +exigences of labor can excuse verbal intercourse. Otherwise it would +be intolerable. These three had labored long upon the trail in their +different spheres. They accepted every condition. +</P> + +<P> +The camp-fire threw its cheerful glow, and set the shadows dancing. +The moon had risen, a golden globe just hovering above the horizon. +Its yellow light searched out the three figures dimly, and the dancing +flames of the camp-fire supported its effort. +</P> + +<P> +Kars' eyes were directed upon the tongues of flame licking about the +camp-kettle. But they held in their focus the round, undiminished +figure over whom he sat ward. Bill sat facing the captive in full view +of the slung arm in its rough splints. Murray seemed to have no +concern for those about him. His haunted eyes were on the rising moon +disc, and his thoughts were on all those terrible problems confronting +him. +</P> + +<P> +He smoked from habit, but without appreciation. He could have no +appreciation now for bodily comfort when all mental peace was destroyed. +</P> + +<P> +His pipe went out and Bill held matches towards him. Silently, almost +automatically, he relit it, using his sound arm with the skill of weeks +of practice. +</P> + +<P> +He passed the matches back. He offered no thanks. Then, with a sudden +stirring of his unshapely body, he glanced swiftly in the direction of +Kars. A moment later he was gazing across at Bill and addressing him. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll make the Fort before sun-up?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Before daylight," came the prompt correction. +</P> + +<P> +Kars had abandoned his pleasant train of silent thought. His keen eyes +were alight with the reflection of the fire. They were searching the +prisoner's face for the meaning of his inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"How long do we stop around?" +</P> + +<P> +Murray's voice was sharp. +</P> + +<P> +"We don't stop around." Again Bill's reply came on the instant, and in +tones that were coldly discouraging. +</P> + +<P> +"But I guess I need to collect things. My papers. Kit. I've a right +that way. You can't deny it," Murray protested swiftly. +</P> + +<P> +"You got no rights in this layout." It was Kars who replied. "You'll +pass right on down the river for Leaping Horse. And you aren't +stopping on the way to pay calls. Guess the p'lice in Leaping Horse +will allow you your rights. But there's nothing doing that way till +you're quit of this outfit." +</P> + +<P> +His decision was coldly final, but it was a blow in the face which the +murderer refused to accept. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't act that way," he protested fiercely. "You got a charge +against me you haven't proved, and I don't guess you ever will prove. +I'm a prisoner by force, not by law. I demand the right to decent +treatment. I need to get papers from the Fort. There's things there +to help my case. Maybe you figger to beat me through holding me from +my rights. It would rank well with the way you've already acted. I +need to see Father José and Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie——" +</P> + +<P> +"Cut that right out!" Kars' words came with a vicious snap. "You'll +see no one till you're in the hands of the Mounted P'lice at Leaping +Horse. That goes. I don't care a cuss for the law of this thing. +We'll fix that all later." +</P> + +<P> +Murray's burning eyes were furious as they searched the unyielding +features of his captor. His absolute impotence drove him to an insane +desire for violence. But the violence was not forthcoming. He was +powerless, and no one knew it better than he. +</P> + +<P> +"We surely will," he cried, hoarse with passion. "You can't prove a +thing. Allan was murdered by the neches. I was at the Fort with the +rest. You know that. Others can prove it." +</P> + +<P> +The fierce anger which the mention of Jessie's name had set leaping in +Kars' brain subsided as swiftly as it had risen. He sat silent for +some moments regarding the storm-swept features of the man whose crimes +had devastated the life of the girl he loved. His anger changed to an +added loathing. And his loathing inspired a desire to hurt, to hurt +mortally. +</P> + +<P> +This man as yet knew nothing of the discovery of his second crime. The +time had come when he must realize all that this thing meant to him. +There were weeks of journey yet before him. Kars knew no mercy. The +wild had taught him that mercy was only for the weak, for those who +erred through that weakness. This man was not of those. He was a +vicious criminal whose earthly reward would be inadequate to his crimes. +</P> + +<P> +"That won't help you a thing," he said frigidly. He knocked out his +pipe and thrust it into his pocket. His gaze was steadily fixed on the +eyes so furiously alight as they watched his every movement. "There's +more to this than the murder of Allan Mowbray, your share in which can +be proved clear out. Guess you've acted pretty bright, Murray. I +allow you've covered a whole heap of tracks. But you haven't covered +them all. Guess there never was a murderer born who knew how to cover +all his tracks. And it's just a mercy of Providence for the protection +of us folk. If you'd covered your last tracks you'd have dropped your +automatic in the Snake River, and lost it so deep in the mud it +wouldn't have been found in years. But you didn't act that way, and +that's why you're going to hang. You're going to hang for murdering +the son, as well as the father, and the whole blamed world'll breathe +freer for your hanging. Do you need me to tell you more? Do you need +me to tell you why you're not landing at the Fort? No, I guess not. +Your whole play is in our hands. You're here by force, sure, and by +force you're goin' to stay. Just as I guess by force you're going to +die. You've lived outside the law such a long spell I don't guess you +need teaching a thing. If we're acting outside the laws of man now, I +guess we're acting within the laws of justice. That's all that gets me +where you figger. I guess we'll eat. Charley'll know how to hand you +your food." +</P> + +<P> +The prisoner made no reply. It was the final blow. Kars had withheld +it till the psychological moment. He had withheld it, not with any +thought of mercy, but with a crude desire to punish when the hurt would +be the greatest. +</P> + +<P> +He had achieved more than he knew. Buoyed with the belief that his +earlier crime on Bell River had been so skilfully contrived that no +court of law could ever hope to convict him of a capital offence, +Murray McTavish had only endured the suspense and haunting fear of +uncertainty. Now he realized to the full the disaster that had +overtaken him. He was stunned by the blow that had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +The cooked meat that was passed to him by the Indian was left +untouched. The dark night journey passed before his wide, unsleeping +eyes as the canoes sped on towards the Fort. The last hope had been +torn from him. A dreadful waking nightmare pursued him. It was the +complete wrecking of a strong mentality, the shattering of an iron +nerve under a sledge-hammer blow that had been timed to the moment. He +might walk to the scaffold with a step that was outwardly firm. But it +would be merely the physical effort of a man in whom all hope is dead. +</P> + +<P> +So the Fort landing was reached and passed. Kars alone disembarked, +his canoe remaining ready to overhaul his companions at their next +night camp. He was going to tell his story to those who must learn the +truth. It was a mission from which he shrank, but he knew that his +lips alone must tell it. He hoped and believed it was the final act of +the drama these cruelly injured people must be forced to witness. Then +the gloomy curtain would be dropped, but to rise again on scenes of +sunlight and happiness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SUMMER OF LIFE +</H3> + + +<P> +The passage of time for John Kars had never been so swift, so feverish +in the rush of poignant events. Four months had passed since he had +landed like a shadow in the night on the banks of Snake River, to tell +the story of men's evil to those to whom he would gladly have imparted +only happy tidings. +</P> + +<P> +Now he was at the landing again, with pages of tragic history turned in +his book of life. But they were turned completely, and only the memory +of them was left behind. The other pages, those remaining to be +perused, were different. They contained all those things without which +no life could ever be counted complete. That happiness which all must +seek, and the strong and wise will cling to, and only the weak and +foolish will make a plaything of. +</P> + +<P> +It was the crowning day of his life, and he desired to live every +moment of it. So he had left his bed under the hospitable roof of +Father José to witness the first moment of its birth. +</P> + +<P> +The first gray shadow lit the distant hilltops. To him it was like the +first stirring of broken slumber. Strange but familiar sounds broke +the profound stillness. The cry of belated beast, and the waking cries +of the feathered world. The light spread northward. It moved along +stealing, broadening towards the south. It mounted the vault of night. +Again, to him it was the growth of conscious life, the passing from +dream to reality. +</P> + +<P> +He saw the stubborn darkness yield reluctantly. He watched the silver +ghosts flee from the northern sky, back, back to the frigid bergs which +inspired their fantastic steps; the challenge hurled at the +star-world's complacent reign. Even the perfect burnish of the silver +moon was powerless before the victorious march of day. +</P> + +<P> +His spirit responded in perfect harmony. As the flush of victory +deepened it reminded him of all that a life of effort meant. The +myriad hues growing in the east were the symbol of human hope of +success so hardly striven. The massing billows, fantastic +cloud-shapes, rich in splendid habiliments, suggested the enthronement +of joy supreme. And then, in blazing splendor, the golden rising sun +pointed the achievement of that perfect happiness which the merciful +Creator designs for every living creature. +</P> + +<P> +It was a moment when there should have been no room for shadowed +memory. It was a moment when only the great looking forward should +have filled him. But the strong soul of the man had been deeply seared +by the conflict which had been fought and won. In the midst of all the +emotion of that day of days memory would not wholly be denied, and he +dwelt upon those events of which he had read so deeply in the pages of +his book of life. +</P> + +<P> +For all his desire to forget, the rapid moving scenes of the summer +days came back to him now, vivid, painful. It was as though the pure +search-light of dawn had a power of revealing no less than its +inspiration of hope and delight. He contemplated afresh his journey +down the river with his prisoner and his loyal friends. He remembered +his landing on that very spot when sleep wrapped the Mission of St. +Agatha, as it did now. He thought of his first visit to the Padre, and +of his ultimate telling of his story to the two women who had suffered +so deeply at the hands of the murderer. It had been painful. Yet it +had not been without a measure of compensation. Had he not run the man +to earth? And was not the avenging of the girl he loved yet to come? +Yes, this had been so, and he dwelt on the courage and patience which +governed the simple women who listened to the details of man's +merciless villainy. +</P> + +<P> +The story told, then had come the great looking forward. His work +completed, he had promised that not a consideration in the world should +stay his feet from the return. And Jessie had yielded to his urgency. +On that return she would give herself to him, and the beloved Padre +should bless their union in the little Mission House. Then had come +the mother's renunciation of all the ties which had so long held her to +the banks of the Snake River. Happiness had been hers in the long +years of her life there, but the overwhelming shadow of suffering +weighed her down completely now, and she would gladly renounce the home +which had known her so long. +</P> + +<P> +So it had been arranged under the strong purpose the man had put forth, +and, in consequence, added energy was flung into his labors. That +night his canoe glided from the landing, and he was accompanied by +Keewin, and two other Indians, who had been witnesses of Murray's +movements on the day of the murder in Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +The memory of these things carried him on to his journey's end where he +encountered again the tawdry pretentiousness of Leaping Horse, seeking +to hide its moral poverty under raiment of garish hue. He remembered +the anxious, busy days when the machinery of outland justice creaked +rustily under his efforts to persuade it into full and perfect motion. +The labor of it. How Bill Brudenell had labored. The staunch efforts +of the Mounted Police. And all the time the dread of a breakdown in +the rusted machinery, and the escape of the murderer from the just +penalty of his crimes. +</P> + +<P> +None knew better than Kars the nearness of that disaster. Money had +flowed like water in the interests of the accused. It had +correspondingly had to flow in the interests of the prosecution. The +tradition of Leaping Horse had been maintained throughout the whole +trial. And loathing and disgust colored his every recollection. The +defending counsel had set out to buy and corrupt. Kars had accepted +the challenge without scruple. The case was one of circumstance, +circumstance that was overwhelming. But the power of money in Leaping +Horse was tremendous. The verdict remained uncertain to the last +moment. Perhaps the balance was turned through weight of money. Kars +cared very little. The Jesuitical method of it all was a matter for +scruple. And scruple was banished completely from this battle-field. +</P> + +<P> +And Justice had won. Whatever the method, Justice had won. The relief +of it. The cold reward. Allan Mowbray was avenged. Jessie and her +mother were freed from the threat which had so long over-shadowed their +lives. The bitter air of the northland had been cleansed of a +pestilential breath. So he turned his back on Leaping Horse with the +knowledge that the murderer would pay his penalty before God and man. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was the whole thing without a curiously grim irony. Even while +Murray McTavish was fighting for his life he was witness of the +complete shattering of all that for which he had striven. His trial +revealed to the world the secret which his every effort had sought to +keep inviolate, and the horde of vultures from the gold city were +breaking the trail in their surging lust. Word flashed down the +boulevards. It flew through the slums. It sung on the wires to the +rail-heads at the coast. It reached the wealthy headquarters at +Seattle. Thence it journeyed on the wings of cable and wire to every +corner of the world. And the message only told the fabulous stories of +the new strike on Bell River. The world was left all unconcerned with +the crimes it had inspired. +</P> + +<P> +The scenes of the early days were renewed. Nor was there any great +difference from them. It was a pell-mell rush. Incompetent, harpy, +"sharp" and the gold seeker of substance. It was a train of the +northland flotsam, moving again without scruple or mercy. Kars watched +its beginning. He understood. None could understand this sort of +thing better. All his life had been spent in the midst of such +conditions. The thing had been bound to come, and he was frankly glad +that those who had served him so well were already in possession of all +they required in the new Eldorado. +</P> + +<P> +How the "rush" ultimately fared he neither knew nor seriously cared. +It had no concern for him. The lust of gold had completely passed from +him. All he cared was that it had left Fort Mowbray untouched. The +overland route had suited the needs of these folk best. It was +shorter, and therein lay its claim. The waterways which would have +brought pandemonium to the doors of the folk he loved were circuitous, +and the double burden of water and land transport would have been a +hindrance in the crazy haste of the reckless souls seeking fortune in a +whirlwind of desire. +</P> + +<P> +So the girl he loved was saved the contamination from which he desired +to shield her. So the pristine calm of the Mission of St. Agatha was +left unbroken. Father José was left to his snuff-box and his mission +of mercy. And Kars was glad. +</P> + +<P> +His work was done. And now, on this day of days, as he watched its +splendid birth, he thanked his God that the contamination of the gold +world which had so long overshadowed would no longer threaten the life +of the girl who was to be given into his keeping before its close. +</P> + +<P> +The sun cleared the sky-line, a molten, magnificent spectacle. And as +it rose the multi-hued escort of cloud fell away. Its duty was done. +It had launched the God of day upon its merciful task for mankind. It +would go, waiting to conduct him to his nightly couch at the other side +of the world. +</P> + +<P> +Kars drew a deep breath. The draught of morning air was nectar to his +widely expanding lungs. Realization of happiness rarely comes till it +is past. Kars was realizing it to the full. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes turned from the splendid vision. The landing was crowded with +craft. But it was not the craft of trade which usually gathered at the +close of summer. It was his own outfit, largely augmented. And it was +deeply laden. +</P> + +<P> +He dwelt upon it for some moments. Its appeal held him fascinated. A +week had been spent upon the lading, a week of unalloyed happiness and +deeply sentimental care. These were canoes laden with the many +household goods and treasures of the feminine hearts who were about to +take their places in his life. Those slight, graceful vessels +contained a hundred memories of happiness and pain carefully taken from +the settings to which they had so long been bound. He knew that they +represented the yielding up of long years of treasured life upon the +altar of sacrifice his coming had set up. He had no other feeling than +thankfulness and tenderness. It stirred every fibre of his manhood to +its depths. +</P> + +<P> +His happy contemplation was suddenly broken. A sound behind him caught +his quick ears. In a moment he had turned, and, in that moment, the +deep happiness of his communing became a living fire of delight. +</P> + +<P> +Jessie was standing in the mouth of the avenue which led down from the +clearing. She stood there framed in the setting of ripe summer +foliage, already tinging with the hues of fall. Her ruddy brown hair +was without covering, and her tall slim figure was wrapped in an ample +fur-lined cloak which reached to her feet. Kars recognized the garment +as something he had dared to purchase for her in Leaping Horse, to keep +her from the night and morning chills on the journey from the Fort. In +his eyes she made a picture beyond all compare. Her soft cheeks were +tinted with a blush of embarrassment, and her smiling eyes were shyly +regarding him. +</P> + +<P> +He strode up to her, his arms outheld. The girl yielded to his embrace +on the instant, and then hastily released herself, and glanced about +her in real apprehension. +</P> + +<P> +Kars smilingly shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no one around," he comforted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you quite sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite." +</P> + +<P> +The girl led the way back to the landing. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," she cried, glancing half shyly up at the strong, smiling +face that contained in its rugged molding the whole meaning of life to +her. "What—why are you down here—now?" +</P> + +<P> +The man's responsive smile was half shamefaced. He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't just say. Maybe it's the same reason you're around." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I just came along to look at things." +</P> + +<P> +Kars' embarrassment passed. He laughed buoyantly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I felt. I needed to look at—things." +</P> + +<P> +"What things?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl pressed him. Her great love demanded confession of those +inner feelings and thoughts a man can so rarely express. Kars resorted +to subterfuge. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, I'm responsible to you and your mother for the outfit. I had +to see nothing's amiss. There won't be a heap of time later, and we +start right out by noon. You can trust Bill most all the time. And +Charley's no fool on the trail. But I had to get around." +</P> + +<P> +"So you got up before the sun to see to it." +</P> + +<P> +Kars laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Same as you." +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it won't do. I'll—I'll be frank. Yes. I was awake. Wide +awake—hours. I just couldn't lie there waiting—waiting. I had to +get around. I had to look at it all—again. Say, John, dear, it's our +great day. The greatest in all life for us. And all this means—means +just a great big whole world. So I stole out of the house, and hurried +along to look at it. Am I foolish? Am I just a silly, sentimental +girl? I—I—couldn't help it. True." +</P> + +<P> +They were standing at the edge of the landing. The speeding waters +were lapping gently at the prows of the moored craft under pressure of +the light morning breeze. The groans of the summer-racked glacier +across the river rumbled sonorously, accentuating the virgin peace of +the world about them. The insect world was already droning its +day-long song, and the cries of the feathered world came from the +distance. +</P> + +<P> +The girl's appeal was irresistible. Kars caught her in his arms, and +his passionate kisses rained on her upturned face. All the ardor of +his strong soul gazed down into her half-closed eyes in those moments +of rapture. +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't help it? No more could I," he cried, yielding all +restraint before the passion of that moment. "I had to get around. I +had to see the day from its beginning. Same as I want to see it to its +end. Great? Why, it's everything to me—to us, little Jessie. I want +it all—all. I wouldn't miss a second of its time. I watched the +first streak of the dawn, and I've seen the sun get up full of fire and +glory. And that's just how this day is to us. Think of it, little +girl, think of it. By noon you'll be my wife—my wife. And after, +after we've eaten, and Father José and Bill have said their pieces, +we'll be setting out down the river with all the folks we care for, for +a new, big, wide world, and the wide open trail of happiness waiting +for us. If it wasn't I'm holding you right now in my arms I guess +it—it would be incredible." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl had suddenly remembered the possibility of prying eyes. +With obvious reluctance she released herself from the embrace she had +no desire to deny. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she breathed, "it's almost—incredible." Then with a sudden +passionate abandon she held out her arms as though to embrace all that +which told her of her joy. "But it's real, real. I'm glad—so glad." +</P> + +<P> +It was a scene which had for its inspiration a world of the gentler +human emotions. +</P> + +<P> +The laden canoes had added their human freight. Each was manned by its +small dusky crew, Indians tried in the service of the long trail, men +of the Mission, and men who had learned to regard John Kars as a great +white chief. It was an expedition that had none of the grim +earnestness of the long trail. The dusky Indians, even, were imbued +with the spirit of the moment. Every one of these people had witnessed +the wonderful ceremonial of a white man's mating, the whole Mission had +been feasted on white man's fare. Now the landing was thronged for the +departure. Women, and men, and children. They were gathered there for +the final Godspeed. +</P> + +<P> +Peigan Charley was consumed with his authority over the vessels which +led the way, bearing the baggage of the party. He was part of the +white man's life, therefore his contempt for the simple awe of the rest +of his race, at the witnessing of the wedding ceremony, still claimed +his profoundest "damn-fool." Never were his feelings of superiority +more deeply stirred. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Brudenell piloted the vessel which bore Ailsa Mowbray towards the +new life for which she had renounced her old home. Kars and his bride +were the last in the procession, as the vessels swept out into the +stream under the powerful strokes of the paddles. +</P> + +<P> +It was an unforgetable moment for all. For the women it had perhaps an +even deeper meaning than for any one else. It was happiness and regret +blended in a confused tangle. But it was a tangle which time would +completely unravel, and, flinging aside all regret, would set happiness +upon its throne. For Bill it was the great desire of his life +fulfilled. His friend, the one man above all others he regarded, had +finally stepped upon the path he had always craved for him. For +himself? His years were passing. There was still work to be done in +the unsavory purlieus of Leaping Horse. +</P> + +<P> +For John Kars it was a moment of the profoundest, unalloyed joy. No +searching of his emotions could have revealed anything but the +wholesome feelings of a man who has achieved his destiny in those +things which the God of All has set out for human desire. The world +lay all before him. Wealth was his, and, in his frail barque, setting +out upon the waters of destiny, was the wife he had won for himself +from the bosom of the desolate north. +</P> + +<P> +Father José, gray headed, aged in the long years of a life of +sacrifice, stood at the forefront of the landing as the procession +glided out on to the bosom of the stream. Simple in spirit, single in +purpose, he regarded the going with the calmness which long years of +trial had imposed upon him. His farewell was smiling. It was deep +with truth and feeling. He knew it was the close of a long chapter in +the book of his life's effort. He accepted it, and turned the page. +</P> + +<P> +But for all the great gathering of his Mission about him he was a +lonely little figure, and the sigh which followed his voiceless +blessing came from a loyal heart which knew no other purpose than to +continue to the end its work of patient, unremitting mercy. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 19064-h.txt or 19064-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/6/19064</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Triumph of John Kars + A Story of the Yukon + + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + + + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [eBook #19064] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 19064-h.htm or 19064-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064/19064-h/19064-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064/19064-h.zip) + + + + + +THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS + +A Story of the Yukon + +by + +RIDGWELL CULLUM + +Author of +"The Golden Woman," "The Son of His Father," "The Way of the Strong," +"The Men Who Wrought" + +With Frontispiece in Colors + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: The defenders were reduced to four.] + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers -------- New York +Copyright, 1917, by +George W. Jacobs & Company +All rights reserved + + + + +Contents + + + I. AT FORT MOWBRAY + II. THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA + III. THE LETTER + IV. ON BELL RIVER + V. IN THE NIGHT + VI. JOHN KARS + VII. AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING + VIII. TWO MEN OF THE NORTH + IX. MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY + X. THE MAN WITH THE SCAR + XI. THE SECRET OF THE GORGE + XII. DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT + XIII. THE FALL TRADE + XIV. ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT + XV. FATHER JOSE PROBES + XVI. A MAN AND A MAID + XVII. A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE + XVIII. ON THE NORTHERN SEAS + XIX. AT THE GRIDIRON + XX. THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN + XXI. DR. BILL INVESTIGATES + XXII. IN THE SPRINGTIME + XXIII. THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN + XXIV. THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN + XXV. THE OUT-WORLD + XXVI. THE DEPUTATION + XXVII. THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER + XXVIII. THE HARVEST OF BATTLE + XXIX. THE LAP OF THE GODS + XXX. THE END OF THE TERROR + XXXI. THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL + XXXII. THE SUMMER OF LIFE + + + + +The Triumph of John Kars + + +CHAPTER I + +AT FORT MOWBRAY + +Murray McTavish was seated at a small table, green-baized, littered +with account-books and a profusion of papers. But he was not regarding +these things. Instead, his dark, intelligent eyes were raised to the +smallish, dingy window in front of him, set in its deep casing of +centuries-old logs. Nor was the warm light shining in his eyes +inspired by the sufficiently welcome sunlight beyond. His gaze was +entirely absorbed by a fur-clad figure, standing motionless in the open +jaws of the gateway of the heavily timbered stockade outside. + +It was the figure of a young woman. A long coat of beaver skin, and a +cap of the same fur pressed down low over her ruddy brown hair, held +her safe from the bitter chill of the late semi-arctic fall. She, too, +was absorbed in the scene upon which she was gazing. + +Her soft eyes, so gray and gentle, searched the distance. The hills, +snow-capped and serrated. The vast incline of ancient glacier, rolling +backwards and upwards in discolored waves from the precipitate opposite +bank of Snake River. The woods, so darkly overpowering as the year +progressed towards its old age. The shaking tundra, treacherous and +hideous with rank growths of the summer. The river facets of broken +crags awaiting the cloak of winter to conceal their crude nakedness. +Then the trail, so slight, so faint. The work of sleds and moccasined +feet through centuries of native traffic, with the occasional variation +of the hard shod feet of the white adventurer. + +She knew it all by heart. She read it all with the eyes of one who has +known no other outlook since first she opened them upon the world. +Yes, she knew it all. But that which she did not know she was seeking +now. Beyond all things, at that moment, she desired to penetrate some +of the secrets that lay beyond her grim horizon. + +Her brows were drawn in a slight frown. The questions she was asking +peeped out of the depths of her searching eyes. And they were the +questions of a troubled mind. + +A step sounded behind her, but she did not turn. A moment later the +voice of Murray McTavish challenged her. + +"Why?" + +The brief demand was gentle enough, yet it contained a sort of playful +irony, which, at the moment, Jessie Mowbray resented. She turned. +There was impatience in the eyes which confronted him. She regarded +him steadily. + +"Why? It's always _why_--with you, when feelings get the better of me. +Maybe you never feel dread, or doubt, or worry. Maybe you never feel +anything--human. Say, you're a man and strong. I'm just a woman, +and--and he's my father. He's overdue by six weeks. He's not back +yet, and we've had no word from him all summer." + +Her impatience became swallowed up by her anxiety again. The appeal of +her manner, her beauty were not lost upon the man. + +"So you stand around looking at the trail he needs to come over, +setting up a fever of trouble for yourself figgering on the traps and +things nature's laid out for us folk beyond those hills. Guess that's +a woman sure." + +Hot, impatient words rose to the girl's lips, but she choked them back. + +"I can't argue it," she cried, a little desperately. "Father should +have been back six weeks ago. You know that. He isn't back. Well?" + +"Allan and I have run this old post ten years," Murray said soberly. +"In those ten years there's not been a single time that Allan's hit the +northern trail on a trade when he's got back to time by many +weeks--generally more than six. It don't seem to me I've seen his +little girl standing around same as she's doing now--ever before." + +The girl drew her collar up about her neck. The gesture was a mere +desire for movement. + +"I guess I've never felt as I do now," she said miserably. + +"How?" + +The girl's words came in a sudden passionate rush. + +"Oh, it's no use!" she cried. "You wouldn't understand. You're a good +partner. You're a big man on the trail. Guess there's no bigger men +on the trail than you and father--unless it's John Kars. But you all +fight with hard muscle. You figure out the sums as you see them. You +don't act as women do when they don't know. I've got it all here," she +added, pressing her fur mitted hands over her bosom, her face flushed +and her eyes shining with emotion. "I know, I feel there's something +amiss. I've never felt this way before. Where is he? Where did he go +this time? He never tells us. You never tell us. We don't know. +Can't help be sent? Can't I go with an outfit and search for him?" + +The man's smile had died out. His big eyes, strange, big dark eyes, +avoided the girl's. They turned towards the desolate, sunlit horizon. +His reply was delayed as though he were seeking what best to say. + +The girl waited with what patience she could summon. She was born and +bred to the life of this fierce northern world, where women look to +their men for guidance, where they are forced to rely upon man's +strength for life itself. + +She gazed upon the round profile, awaiting that final word which she +felt must be given. Murray McTavish was part of the life she lived on +the bitter heights of the Yukon territory. In her mind he was a +fixture of the fort which years since had been given her father's name. +He was a young man, a shade on the better side of thirty-five, but he +possessed none of the features associated with the men of the trail. +His roundness was remarkable, and emphasized by his limited stature. +His figure was the figure of a middle-aged merchant who has spent his +life in the armchair of a city office. His neck was short and fat. +His face was round and full. The only feature he possessed which +lifted him out of the ruck of the ordinary was his eyes. These were +unusual enough. There was their great size, and a subtle glowing fire +always to be discovered in the large dark pupils. They gave the man a +suggestion of tremendous passionate impulse. One look at them and the +insignificant, the commonplace bodily form was forgotten. An +impression of flaming energy supervened. The man's capacity for +effort, physical or mental, for emotion, remained undoubted. + +But Jessie Mowbray was too accustomed to the man to dwell on these +things, to notice them. His easy, smiling, good-natured manner was the +man known to the inhabitants of Fort Mowbray, and the Mission of St. +Agatha on the Snake River. + +The man's reply came at last. It came seriously, earnestly. + +"I can't guess how this notion's got into you, Jessie," he said, his +eyes still dwelling on the broken horizon. "Allan's the hardest man in +the north--not even excepting John Kars, who's got you women-folk +mesmerized. Allan's been traipsing this land since two years before +you were born, and that is more than twenty years ago. There's not a +hill, or valley, or river he don't know like a school kid knows its +alphabet. Not an inch of this devil's playground for nigh a range of +three hundred miles. There isn't a trouble on the trail he's not been +up against, and beat every time. And now--why, now he's got a right +outfit with him, same as always, you're worrying. Say, there's only +one thing I can figger to beat Allan Mowbray on the trail. It would +need to be Indians, and a biggish outfit of them. Even then I'd bet my +last nickel on him." He shook his head with decision. "No, I guess +he'll be right along when his work's through." + +"And his work?" + +The girl's tone was one of relief. Murray's confidence was infectious +in spite of her instinctive fears. + +The man shrugged his fleshy shoulders under his fur-lined pea-jacket. + +"Trade, I guess. We're not here for health. Allan don't fight the +gods of the wilderness or the legion of elemental devils who run this +desert for the play of it. No, this country breeds just one race. +First and last we're wage slaves. Maybe we're more wage slaves north +of 60 degrees than any dull-witted toiler taking his wage by the hour, +and spending it at the end of each week. We're slaves of the big +money, and every man, and many of the women, who cross 60 degrees are +ready to stake their souls as well as bodies, if they haven't already +done so, for the yellow dust that's to buy the physic they'll need to +keep their bodies alive later when they've turned their backs on a +climate that was never built for white men." + +Then the seriousness passed for smiling good-nature. It was the look +his round face was made for. It was the manner the girl was accustomed +to. + +"Guess this country's a pretty queer book to read," he went on. "And +there aren't any pictures to it, either. Most of us living up here +have opened its covers, and some of us have read. But I guess Allan's +read deeper than any of us. I'd say he's read deeper even than John +Kars. It's for that reason I sold my interests in Seattle an' joined +him ten years ago in the enterprise he'd set up here. It's been tough, +but it's sure been worth it," he observed reflectively. "Yep. Sure it +has." He sighed in a satisfied way. Then his smile deepened, and the +light in his eyes glowed with something like enthusiasm. "Think of it. +You can trade right here just how you darn please. You can make your +own laws, and abide by 'em or break 'em just as you get the notion. +Think of it, we're five hundred miles, five hundred miles of fierce +weather, and the devil's own country, from the coast. We're three +hundred miles from the nearest law of civilization. And, as for +newspapers and the lawmakers, they're fifteen hundred miles of tempest +and every known elemental barrier away. We're kings in our own +country--if we got the nerve. And we don't need to care a whoop so the +play goes on. Can you beat it? No. And Allan knows it all--all. +He's the only man who does--for all your John Kars. I'm glad. Say, +Jessie, it's dead easy to face anything if you feel--just glad." + +As he finished speaking the eyes which had held the girl were turned +towards the gray shadows eastward. He was gazing out towards that far +distant region of the Mackenzie River which flowed northwards to empty +itself into the ice-bound Arctic Ocean. But he was not thinking of the +river. + +Jessie was relieved at her escape from his masterful gaze. But she was +glad of his confidence and unquestioned strength. It helped her when +she needed help, and some of her shadows had been dispelled. + +"I s'pose it's as you say," she returned without enthusiasm. "If my +daddy's safe that's all I care. Mother's good. I just love her. +And--Alec, he's a good boy. I love my mother and my brother. But +neither of them could ever replace my daddy. Yes, I'll be glad for him +to get back. Oh, so glad. When--when d'you think that'll be?" + +"When his work's through." + +"I must be patient. Say, I wish I'd got nerve." + +The man laughed pleasantly. + +"Guess what a girl needs is for her men-folk to have nerve," he said. +"I don't know 'bout your brother Alec, but your father--well, he's got +it all." + +The girl's eyes lit. + +"Yes," she said simply. Then, with a glance westwards at the dying +daylight, she went on: "We best get down to the Mission. Supper'll be +waiting." + +Murray nodded. + +"Sure. We'll get right along." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MISSION OF ST. AGATHA + +A haunting silence prevails in the land beyond the barrier of the Yukon +watershed. It is a world apart, beyond, and the other land, the land +where the battle of civilization still fluctuates, still sways under +the violent passions of men, remains outside. + +Its fascination is beyond all explanation. Yet it is as great as its +conditions are merciless. Murray McTavish had sought the explanation, +and found it in the fact that it was a land in which man could make his +own laws and break them at his pleasure. Was this really its +fascination? Hardly. The explanation must surely lie in something +deeper. Surely the primitive in man, which no civilization can +out-breed, would be the better answer. + +In Allan Mowbray's case this was definitely so. Murray McTavish had +served his full apprenticeship where the laws of civilization prevail. +His judgment could scarcely be accepted in a land where only the strong +may survive. + +The difference between the two men was as wide as the countries which +had bred them, and furthermore Allan had survived on the banks of the +Snake River for upwards of twenty-five years. For twenty-five years he +had lived the only life that appealed to his primitive instincts and +powers. And before that he had never so much as peeped beyond the +watershed at the world outside. His whole life was instinct with +courage. His years had been years of struggle and happiness, years in +which a loyal and devoted wife had shared his every disappointment and +success, years in which he had watched his son and daughter grow to the +ripeness of full youth. + +The whole life of these people was a simple enough story of passionate +energy, and a slow, steady-growing prosperity, built out of a +wilderness where a moment's weakness would have yielded them complete +disaster. But they were merciless upon their own powers. They knew +the stake, and played for all. The man played for the tiny lives which +had come to cheer his resting moments, and the defenceless woman who +had borne them. The woman supported him with a loyal devotion and +courage that was invincible. + +For years Allan Mowbray had scoured the country in search of his trade. +His outfit was known to every remote Indian race, east and west, and +north--always north. His was a figure that haunted the virgin +woodlands, the broad rivers, the unspeakable wastes of silence at all +times and seasons. Even the world outside found an echo of his labors. + +These two had fought their battle unaided from the grim shelter of Fort +Mowbray. And, in the clearing of St. Agatha's Mission, at the foot of +the bald knoll, upon the summit of which the old Fort stood, their +infrequent moments of leisure were spent in the staunch log hut which +the man had erected for the better comfort of his young children. + +Then had come the greater prosperity. It was the time of a prosperity +upon which the simple-minded fur-hunter had never counted. The Fort +became a store for trade. It was no longer a mere headquarters where +furs were made ready for the market. Trade developed. Real trade. +And Allan was forced to change his methods. The work was no longer +possible single-handed. The claims of the trail suddenly increased, +and both husband and wife saw that their prospects had entirely +outgrown their calculations. + +Forthwith long council was taken between them. Either the trail, with +its possibilities, which had suddenly become an enormous factor in +their lives, or the store at the Fort, which was almost equally +important, must be abandoned, or a partner must be found and taken. +Allan Mowbray was not the man to yield a detail of the harvest he had +so laboriously striven for. So decision fell upon the latter course. + +Murray McTavish was not twenty-five when he arrived at the Fort. He +was a man of definite personality and was consumed with an abundance of +determination and resource. His inclination to stoutness was even then +pronounced. But above all stood out his profound, concentrated +understanding of American commercial methods, and the definite, almost +fixed smile of his deeply shining eyes. + +There was never a doubt of the wisdom of Allan's choice from the moment +of his arrival. Murray plunged himself unreservedly into the work of +the enterprise, searching its possibilities with a keenly businesslike +eye, and he saw that they had been by no means overestimated by his +partner. There was no delay. With methods of smiling "hustle" he took +charge of the work at the Fort, and promptly released the overburdened +Allan for the important work of the trail. + +Nor was Ailsa Mowbray the least affected by the new partner's coming. +It was early made clear that her years of labor were at last to yield +her that leisure she craved for the upbringing of her little family, +which was, even now, receiving education under the cultured guidance of +the little French-Canadian priest who had set up his Mission in this +wide wilderness. For the first time in all her married life she found +herself free to indulge in the delights of a domesticity her woman's +heart desired. + +It was about the end of the summer, after Murray's coming to the Fort, +that an element of trouble began to disquiet the peace of the Mission +on Snake River. It almost seemed as if the change from the old +conditions had broken the spell of the years of calm which had +prevailed. Yet the trouble was remote enough. Furthermore it seemed +natural enough. + +First came rumor. It traveled the vast, silent places in that +mysterious fashion which never seems clearly accounted for. Well over +a hundred and fifty miles of mountain, and valley, and trackless +woodlands separated the Fort from the great Mackenzie River, yet, on +the wings of the wind, it seemed, was borne a story of war, of +massacre, of savage destruction. The hitherto peaceful fishing Indians +of Bell River had suddenly become the hooligans of the north. They +were carrying fire and slaughter to all lesser Indian settlements +within a radius of a hundred miles of their own sombre valley. + +The Fort was disturbed. The whole Mission struck a note of panic. +Father Jose saw grave danger for his small flock of Indian converts. +He remembered the white woman and her children, too. He was seriously +alarmed. Allan was away, so he sought the advice of those remaining. +Murray was untried in the conditions of the life of the country, but +Ailsa Mowbray possessed all the little man's confidence. + +In the end, however, it was Murray who decided. He took upon himself +the position of leader in his partner's absence, and claimed the right +to probe the trouble to its depths. The priest and Ailsa yielded +reluctantly. They, at least, understood the risk of his inexperience. +But Murray forcefully rejected any denial, and, with characteristic +energy, and no little skill, he gathered an outfit together and +promptly set out for Bell River. + +It was the one effort needed to assure him of his permanent place in +the life of the Fort on Snake River. It left him no longer an untried +recruit, but a soldier in the battle of the wilderness. + +A month later he returned from his perilous enterprise with his work +well and truly done. The information he brought was comprehensive and +not without comfort. The Bell River Indians had certainly taken to the +war-path. But it was only in defence of their fishing on the river +which meant their whole existence. They were defending it +successfully, but, in their success, their savage instincts had run +amuck. Not content with slaying the invaders they had annexed their +enemy's property and squaws. Then, with characteristic ruthlessness, +they had set about carrying war far and near, but only amongst the +Indians. Their efforts undoubtedly had a dual purpose, The primary +object was the satisfying of a war lust suddenly stirred into being in +savage hearts by their first successes. The other was purely politic. +They meant to establish a terror, and so safeguard their food supplies +for all time. + +Murray's story was complete. It was thorough. It had not been easy. +His capacity henceforth became beyond all question. + +So the cloud passed for the moment. But it did not disappear. The +people at the Fort, even Allan Mowbray, himself, when he returned, +dismissed the matter without further consideration. He laughed at the +panic which had arisen in his absence, while yet he commended Murray's +initiative and courage. + +After the first lull, however, fresh stories percolated through. They +reached the Fort again and again, at varying intervals, until the Bell +River Valley became a black, dangerous spot in the minds of all people, +and both Indians, and any chance white adventurer, who sought shelter +at the Fort, received due warning to avoid this newly infected plague +spot. + +It was nearly ten years since these things had occurred. And during +all that time the primitive life on the banks of Snake River had +continued to progress in its normal calm. Each year brought its added +prosperity, which found little enough outward display beyond the +constant bettering of trade conditions which went on under Murray's +busy hands. A certain added comfort reached the mother's home in the +Mission clearing. But otherwise the outward and visible signs of the +wealth that was being stored up were none. + +Father Jose's Mission grew in extent. The clearing widened and the +numbers of savage converts increased definitely. The charity and +medical skill of the little priest, and the Mission's adjacency to a +big trading post, were responsible for drawing about the place every +begging Indian and the whole of his belongings. The old man received +them, and his benefits were placed at their service; the only return he +demanded was an attendance at his religious services, and that the +children should be sent to the classes which he held in the Mission +House. It was a pastoral that held every element of beauty, but as an +anachronism in the fierce setting north of "sixty" it was even more +perfect. + +Allan Mowbray looked on at all these things in his brief enough +leisure. Nor was he insensible to the changed conditions of comfort in +his own home, due to the persistent genius of his partner. The old, +rough furnishings had gone to be replaced by modern stuff, which must +have demanded a stupendous effort in haulage from the gold city of +Leaping Horse, nearly three hundred miles distant. But Ailsa was +pleased. That was his great concern. Ailsa was living the life he had +always desired for her, and he was free to roam the wilderness at his +will. He blessed the day that had brought Murray McTavish into the +enterprise. + +Just now Allan had been away from the Fort nearly the whole of the open +season. His return was awaited by all. These journeys of his brought, +as a result, a rush of business to the Fort, and an added life to the +Mission. Then there was the mother, and her now grown children, +waiting to welcome the man who was their all. + +But Allan Mowbray had not yet returned, and Jessie, young, impulsive, +devoted, was living in a fever of apprehension such as her experienced +mother never displayed. + +Supper was ready at the house when Murray and Jessie arrived from the +Fort. Ailsa Mowbray was awaiting them. She regarded them smilingly as +they came. Her eyes, twins, in their beauty and coloring, with her +daughter's, were full of that quiet patience which years of struggle +had inspired. For all she was approaching fifty, she was a handsome, +erect woman, taller than the average, with a figure of physical +strength quite unimpaired by the hard wear of that bitter northern +world. Her greeting was the greeting of a mother, whose chief concern +is the bodily welfare of her children, and a due regard for her +domestic arrangements. + +"Jessie's young yet, and maybe that accounts for a heap. But you, +Murray, being a man, ought to know when it's food time. I guess it's +been waiting a half hour. Come right in, and we'll get on without +waiting for Alec. The boy went out with his gun, an' I don't think +we'll see him till he's ready." + +Jessie's serious eyes had caught her mother's attention. Ailsa Mowbray +possessed all a mother's instinct. Her watch over her pretty daughter, +though unobtrusive, was never for a moment relaxed. Some day she +supposed the child would have to marry. Well, the choice was small +enough. It scarcely seemed a thing to concern herself with. But she +did. And her feelings and opinions were very decided. + +Murray smilingly accepted the blame for their tardiness. + +"Guess it's up to me," he said. "You see, Jessie was good enough to +let me yarn about the delights of this slice of God's country. Well, +when a feller gets handing out his talk that way to a bright girl, who +doesn't find she's got a previous engagement elsewhere, he's liable to +forget such ordinary things as mere food." + +Mrs. Mowbray nodded. + +"That's the way of it--sure. Specially when you haven't cooked it," +she said, with a smile that robbed her words of all reproach. + +She turned to pass within the rambling, log-built house. But at that +moment two dogs raced round the angle of the building and fawned up to +her, completely ignoring the others. + +"Guess Alec's--ready," was Murray's smiling comment. + +There was a shadow of irony in the man's words, which made the mother +glance up quickly from the dogs she was impartially caressing. + +"Yes," she said simply, and without warmth. Her regard though +momentary was very direct. + +Murray turned away as the sound of voices followed in the wake of the +dogs. + +"Hello!" he cried, in a startled fashion. "Here's Father Jose, +and--Keewin!" + +"Keewin?" + +It was Jessie who echoed the name. But her mother had ceased caressing +the dogs. She stood very erect, and quite silent. + +Three men turned the corner of the house. Alec came first. He was +tall, a fair edition of his mother, but without any of the strength of +character so plainly written on her handsome features. Only just +behind him came Father Jose and an Indian. + +The Padre of the Mission was a white-haired, white-browed man of many +years and few enough inches. His weather-stained face, creased like +parchment, was lit by a pair of piercing eyes, which were full of fire +and mental energy. But, for the moment, no one had eyes for anything +but the stoic placidity of the expressionless features of the Indian. +The man's forehead was bound with a blood-stained bandage of dirty +cloth. + +Ailsa Mowbray's gentle eyes widened. Her firm lips perceptibly +tightened. Direct as a shot came her inquiry. + +"What's amiss?" she demanded. + +She was addressing the white man, but her eyes were steadily regarding +the Indian. + +A moment later a second inquiry came. + +"Why is Keewin here? Why is he wounded?" + +The Padre replied. It was characteristic of the country in which they +lived, the lives they lived, that he resorted to no subterfuge, +although he knew his tidings were bad. + +"Keewin's got through from Bell River. It's a letter to you +from--Allan." + +The woman had perfect command of herself. She paled slightly, but her +lips were even firmer set. Jessie hurried to her side. It was as +though the child had instinctively sought the mother's support in face +of a blow which she knew was about to fall. + +Ailsa held out one hand. + +"Give it to me," she said authoritatively. Then, as the Padre handed +the letter across to her, she added: "But first tell me what's amiss +with him." + +The Padre cleared his throat. + +"He's held up," he said firmly. "The Bell River neches have got him +surrounded. Keewin got through with great difficulty, and has been +wounded. You best read the letter, and--tell us." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LETTER + +Ailsa Mowbray tore off the fastening which secured the outer cover of +discolored buckskin. Inside was a small sheet of folded paper. She +opened it, and glanced at the handwriting. Then, without a word, she +turned back into the house. Jessie followed her mother. It was nature +asserting itself. Danger was in the air, and the sex instinct at once +became uppermost. + +The men were left alone. + +Murray turned on the Indian. Father Jose and Alec Mowbray waited +attentively. + +"Tell me," Murray commanded. "Tell me quickly--while the missis and +the other are gone. They got his words. You tell me yours." + +His words came sharply. Keewin was Allan Mowbray's most trusted scout. + +The man answered at once, in a rapid flow of broken English. His one +thought was succor for his great white boss. + +"Him trade," he began, adopting his own method of narrating events, +which Murray was far too wise in his understanding of Indians to +attempt to change. "Great boss. Him much trade. Big. Plenty. So we +come by Bell River. One week, two week, three week, by Bell River." +He counted off the weeks on his fingers. "Bimeby Indian--him come +plenty. No pow-wow. Him come by night. All around corrals. Him make +big play. Him shoot plenty. Dead--dead--dead. Much dead." He +pointed at the ground in many directions to indicate the fierceness of +the attack. "Boss Allan--him big chief. Plenty big. Him say us fight +plenty--too. Him say, him show 'em dis Indian. So him fight big. Him +kill heap plenty too. So--one week. More Indian come. Boss Allan +then call Keewin. Us make big pow-wow. Him say ten Indian kill. Good +Indian. Ten still fight. Not 'nuff. No good ten fight whole tribe. +Him get help, or all kill. So. Him call Star-man. Keewin say +Star-man plenty good Indian. Him send Star-man to fort. So. No help +come. Maybe Star-man him get kill. So him pow-wow. Keewin say, him +go fetch help. Keewin go, not all be kill. So Keewin go. Indian find +Keewin. They shoot plenty much. Keewin no care that," he flicked his +tawny fingers in the air. "Indian no good shoot. Keewin laugh. So. +Keewin come fort." + +The man ceased speaking, his attitude remaining precisely as it was +before he began. He was without a sign of emotion. Neither the Padre +nor Alec spoke. Both were waiting for Murray. The priest's eyes were +on the trader's stern round face. He was watching and reading with +profound insight. Alec continued to regard the Indian. But he chafed +under Murray's delay. + +Before the silence was broken Ailsa Mowbray reappeared in the doorway. +Jessie had remained behind. + +The wife's face was a study in strong courage battling with emotion. +Her gray eyes, no longer soft, were steady, however. Her brows were +markedly drawn. Her lips, too, were firm, heroically firm. + +She held out her letter to the Padre. It was noticeable she did not +offer it to Murray. + +"Read it," she said. Then she added: "You can all read it. Alec, too." + +The two men closed in on either side of Father Jose. The woman looked +on while the three pairs of eyes read the firm clear handwriting. + +"Well?" she demanded, as the men looked up from their reading, and the +priest thoughtfully refolded the paper. + +Alec's tongue was the more ready to express his thoughts. + +"God!" he cried. "It means--massacre!" + +The priest turned on him in reproof. His keen eyes shone like +burnished steel. + +"Keep silent--you," he cried, in a sharp, staccato way. + +The hot blood mounted to the boy's cheek, whether in abashment or in +anger would be impossible to say. He was prevented from further word +by Murray McTavish who promptly took command. + +"Say, there's no time for talk," he said, in his decisive fashion. +"It's up to us to get busy right away." He turned to the priest. +"Father, I need two crews for the big canoes right off--now. You'll +get 'em. Good crews for the paddle. Best let Keewin pick 'em. Eh, +Keewin?" The Indian nodded. "Keewin'll take charge of one, and I the +other. I can make Bell River under the week. I'll drive the crews to +the limit, an' maybe make the place in four days. I'll get right back +to the store now for the arms and ammunition, and the grub. We start +in an hour's time." + +Then he turned on Alec. There was no question in his mind. He had +made his decisions clearly and promptly. + +"See, boy," he said. "You'll stay right here. I'm aware you don't +fancy the store. But fer once you'll need to run it. But more than +all you'll be responsible nothing goes amiss for the women-folk. Their +care is up to you, in your father's absence. Get me? Father Jose'll +help you all he knows." + +Then, without awaiting reply, he turned to Allan Mowbray's wife. His +tone changed to one of the deepest gravity. + +"Ma'am," he said, "whatever man can do to help your husband now, I'll +do. I'll spare no one in the effort. Certainly not myself. That's my +word." + +The wife's reply came in a voice that was no longer steady. + +"Thank you, Murray--for myself and for Allan. God--bless you." + +Murray had turned already to return to the Fort when Alec suddenly +burst out in protest. His eyes lit--the eyes of his mother. His fresh +young face was scarlet to the brow. + +"And do you suppose I'm going to sit around while father's being done +to death by a lot of rotten Indians? Not on your life. See here, +Murray, if there's any one needed to hang around the store it's up to +you. Father Jose can look after mother and Jessie. My place is with +the outfit, and--I'm going with it. Besides, who are you to dictate +what I'm to do? You look after your business; I'll see to mine. You +get me? I'm going up there to Bell River. I----" + +"You'll--stop--right--here!" + +Murray had turned in a flash, and in his voice was a note none of those +looking on had ever heard before. It was a revelation of the man, and +even Father Jose was startled. The clash was sudden. Both the mother +and the priest realized for the first time in ten years the antagonism +underlying this outward display. + +The mother had no understanding of it. The priest perhaps had some. +He knew Murray's energy and purpose. He knew that Alec had been +indulged to excess by his parents. It would have seemed impossible in +the midst of the stern life in which they all lived that the son of +such parents could have grown up other than in their image. But it was +not so, and no one knew it better than Father Jose, who had been +responsible for his education. + +Alec was weak, reckless. Of his physical courage there was no +question. He had inherited his father's and his mother's to the full. +But he lacked their every other balance. He was idle, he loathed the +store and all belonging to it. He detested the life he was forced to +live in this desolate world, and craved, as only weak, virile youth can +crave, for the life and pleasure of the civilization he had read of, +heard of, dreamed of. + +Murray followed up his words before the younger man could gather his +retort. + +"When your father's in danger there's just one service you can do him," +he went on, endeavoring to check his inclination to hot words. "If +there's a thing happens to you, and we can't help your father, why, I +guess your mother and sister are left without a hand to help 'em. Do +you get that? I'm thinking for Allan Mowbray the best I know. I can +run this outfit to the limit. I can do what any other man can do for +his help. Your place is your father's place--right here. Ask your +mother." + +Murray looked across at Mrs. Mowbray, still standing in her doorway, +and her prompt support was forthcoming. + +"Yes," she said, and her eyes sought those of her spoiled son. "For my +sake, Alec, for your father's, for your sister's." + +Ailsa Mowbray was pleading where she had the right to command. And to +himself Father Jose mildly anathematized the necessity. + +Alec turned away with a scarcely smothered imprecation. But his +mother's appeal had had the effect Murray had desired. Therefore he +came to the boy's side in the friendliest fashion, his smile once more +restored to the features so made for smiling. + +"Say, Alec," he cried, "will you bear a hand with the arms and stuff? +I need to get right away quick." + +And strangely enough the young man choked back his disappointment, and +the memory of the trader's overbearing manner. He acquiesced without +further demur. But then this spoilt boy was only spoiled and weak. +His temper was hot, volcanic. His reckless disposition was the outcome +of a generous, unthinking courage. In his heart the one thing that +mattered was his father's peril, and the sadness in his mother's eyes. +Then he had read that letter. + +"Yes," he said. "Tell me, and I'll do all you need. But for God's +sake don't treat me like a silly kid." + +"It was you who treated yourself as one," put in Father Jose, before +Murray could reply. "Remember, my son, men don't put women-folk into +the care of 'silly kids.'" + + +It was characteristic of Murray McTavish that the loaded canoes cast +off from the Mission landing at the appointed time. For all the haste +nothing was forgotten, nothing neglected. The canoes were loaded down +with arms and ammunition divided into thirty packs. There were also +thirty packs of provisions, enough to last the necessary time. There +were two canoes, long, narrow craft, built for speed on the swift +flowing river. Keewin commanded the leading vessel. Murray sat in the +stern of the other. In each boat there were fourteen paddles, and a +man for bow "lookout." + +It was an excellent relief force. It was a force trimmed down to the +bone. Not one detail of spare equipment was allowed. This was a +fighting dash, calculating for its success upon its rapidity of +movement. + +There had been no farewell or verbal "Godspeed." The old priest had +watched them go. + +He saw the round figure of Murray in the stern of the rear boat. He +watched it out of sight. The figure had made no movement. There had +been no looking back. Then the old man, with a shake of the head, +betook himself back through the avenue of lank trees to the Mission. +He was troubled. + +The glowing eyes of Murray gazed out straight ahead of him. He sat +silent, immovable, it seemed, in the boat. That curious burning light, +so noticeable when his strange eyes became concentrated, was more +deeply lurid than ever. It gave him now an intense aspect of +fierceness, even ferocity. He looked more than capable, as he had +said, of driving his men, the whole expedition, to the "limit." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ON BELL RIVER + +It was an old log shanty. Its walls were stout and aged. Its roof was +flat, and sloped back against the hillside on which it stood. Its +setting was an exceedingly limited plateau, thrusting upon the +precipitous incline which overlooked the gorge of the Bell River. + +The face of the plateau was sheer. The only approaches to it were +right and left, and from the hill above, where the dark woods crowded. +A stockade of heavy trunks, felled on the spot, and adapted where they +fell, had been hastily set up. It was primitive, but in addition to +the natural defences, and with men of resolution behind it, it formed +an almost adequate fortification. + +The little fortress was high above the broad river. It was like an +eyrie of creatures of the air rather than the last defences of a party +of human beings. Yet such it was. It was the last hope of its +defenders, faced by a horde of blood-crazed savages who lusted only for +slaughter. + +Five grimly silent men lined the stockade at the most advantageous +points. Five more lay about, huddled under blankets for warmth, +asleep. A single watcher had screened himself upon the roof of the +shack, whence his keen eyes could sweep the gorge from end to end. All +these were dusky creatures of a superior Indian race. Every one of +them was a descendant of the band of Sioux Indians which fled to Canada +after the Custer massacre. Inside the hut was the only white man of +the party. + +A perfect silence reigned just now. There was a lull in the attack. +The Indians crowding the woods below had ceased their futile fire. +Perhaps they were holding a council. Perhaps they were making new +dispositions for a fresh attack. The men at the defences relaxed no +vigilance. The man on the roof noted and renoted every detail of +importance to the defence which the scene presented. The man inside +the hut alone seemed, at the moment, to be taking no part in the +enactment of the little drama. + +Yet it was he who was the genius of it all. It was he who claimed the +devotion of these lean, fighting Indians. It was he who had contrived +thus far to hold at bay a force of at least five hundred Indians, +largely armed with modern firearms. It was he who had led the faithful +remnant of his outfit, in a desperate night sortie, from his +indefensible camp on the river, and, by a reckless dash, had succeeded +in reaching this temporary haven. + +But he had been supported by his half civilized handful of creatures +who well enough knew what mercy to expect from the enemy. And, anyway, +they had been bred of a stock with a fighting history second to no race +in the world. To a man, the defenders were prepared to sell their +lives at a heavy price. And they would die rifle in hand and facing +the enemy. + +The man inside called to the watcher on the roof. + +"Anything doing, Keewin?" + +"Him quiet. Him see no man. Maybe him make heap pow-wow." + +"No sign, eh?" + +"Not nothin', boss." + +Allan Mowbray turned again to the sheet of paper spread out on the lid +of an ammunition box which was laid across his knees. He was sitting +on a sack of flour. All about him the stores they had contrived to +bring away were lying on the ground. It was small enough supply. But +they had not dared to overload in the night rush to their present +quarters. + +He read over what he had written. Then he turned appraisingly to the +stores. His blue eyes were steady and calculating. There was no other +expression in them. + +There was a suggestion of the Viking of old about this northern trader. +His fair hair, quite untouched with the gray due to his years, his +fair, curling beard, and whiskers, and moustache, his blue eyes and +strong aquiline nose. These things, combined with a massive physique, +without an ounce of spare flesh, left an impression in the mind of +fearless courage and capacity. He was a fighting man to his fingers' +tips--when need demanded. + +He turned back to his writing. It was a labored effort, not for want +of skill, but for the reason he had no desire to fret the heart of the +wife to whom it was addressed. + +At last the letter was completed. He signed it, and read it carefully +through, considering each sentence as to effect. + + +"_Bell River_. + +"MY DEAREST WIFE: + +"I've had a more than usually successful trip, till I came here. Now +things are not so good." + + +He glanced up out of the doorway, and a shadowy smile lurked in the +depths of his eyes. Then he turned again to the letter: + + +"I've already written Murray for help, but I guess the letter's kind of +miscarried. He hasn't sent the help. Star-man took the letter. So +now I'm writing you, and sending it by Keewin. If anybody can get +through it's Keewin. The Bell River Indians have turned on me. I +can't think why. Anyway, I need help. If it's to do any good it's got +to come along right away. I needn't say more to you. Tell Murray. +Give my love to Jessie and Alec. I'd like to see them again. Guess I +shall, if the help gets through--in time. God bless you, Ailsa, dear. +I shall make the biggest fight for it I know. It's five hundred or so +to ten. It'll be a tough scrap before we're through. + +"Your loving + +"ALLAN." + + +He folded the sheet of paper in an abstracted fashion. For some +seconds he held it in his fingers as though weighing the advisability +of sending it. Then his abstraction passed, and he summoned the man on +the roof. + +A moment or two later Keewin appeared in the doorway, tall, wiry, his +broad, impassive face without a sign. + +"Say, Keewin," the white chief began, "we need to get word through to +the Fort. Guess Star-man's dead, hey?" + +"Star-man plenty good scout. Boss Murray him no come. Maybe Star-man +all kill dead. So." + +"That's how I figger." + +Allan Mowbray paused and glanced back at the trifling stores. + +"No much food, hey? No much ammunition. One week--two weeks--maybe." + +"Maybe." + +The Indian looked squarely into his chief's eyes. The latter held up +his letter. + +"Who's going? Indians kill him--sure. Who goes?" + +"Keewin." + +The reply came without a sign. Not a movement of a muscle, or the +flicker of an eyelid. + +The white man breathed deeply. It was a sign of emotion which he was +powerless to deny. His eyes regarded the dusky face for some moments. +Then he spoke with profound conviction. + +"You haven't a dog's chance--gettin' through," he said. + +The information did not seem to require a reply, so far as the Indian +was concerned. The white man went on: + +"It's mad--crazy--but it's our only chance." + +The persistence of his chief forced the Indian to reiterate his +determination. + +"Keewin--him go." + +The tone of the reply was almost one of indifference. It suggested +that the white man was making quite an unnecessary fuss. + +Allan Mowbray nodded. There was a look in his eyes that said far more +than words. He held out his letter. The Indian took it. He turned it +over. Then from his shirt pocket he withdrew a piece of buckskin. He +carefully wrapped it about the paper, and bestowed it somewhere within +his shirt. + +The white man watched him in silence. When the operation was complete +he abruptly thrust out one powerful hand. Just for an instant a gleam +of pleasure lit the Indian's dark eyes. He gingerly responded. Then, +as the two men gripped, the "spat" of rifle-fire began again. There +was a moment in which the two men stood listening. Then their hands +fell apart. + +"Great feller--Keewin!" said Mowbray kindly. + +Nor was the white man speaking for the benefit of a lesser +intelligence, nor in the manner of the patronage of a faithful servant. +He meant his words literally. He meant more--much more than he said. + +The rifle fire rattled up from below. The bullets whistled in every +direction. The firing was wild, as is most Indian firing. A bullet +struck the lintel of the door, and embedded itself deeply in the +woodwork just above Keewin's head. + +Keewin glanced up. He pointed with a long, brown finger. + +"Neche damn fool. No shoot. Keewin go. Keewin laugh. Bell River +Indian all damn fool. So." + +It was the white man who had replaced the Indian at the lookout on the +roof. He was squatting behind a roughly constructed shelter. His +rifle was beside him and a belt full of ammunition was strapped about +his waist. + +The wintry sky was steely in the waning daylight. Snow had fallen. +Only a slight fall for the region, but it had covered everything to the +depth of nearly a foot. The whole aspect of the world had changed. +The dark, forbidding gorge of the Bell River no longer frowned up at +the defenders of the plateau. It was glistening, gleaming white, and +the dreary pine trees bowed their tousled heads under a burden of snow. +The murmur of the river no longer came up to them. Already three +inches of ice had imprisoned it, stifling its droning voice under its +merciless grip. + +Attack on attack had been hurled against the white man and his little +band of Indians. For days there had been no respite. The attacks had +come from below, from the slopes of the hill above, from the approach +on either side. Each attack had been beaten off. Each attack had +taken its heavy toll of the enemy. But there had been toll taken from +the defenders, a toll they could ill afford. There were only eight +souls all told in the log fortress now. Eight half-starved creatures +whose bones were beginning to thrust at the fleshless skin. + +Allan Mowbray's hollow eyes scanned the distant reaches of the gorge +where it opened out southward upon low banks. His straining gaze was +searching for a sign--one faint glimmer of hope. All his plans were +laid. Nothing had been left to the chances of his position. His +calculations had been deliberate and careful. He had known from the +beginning, from the moment he had realized the full possibilities of +his defence, that the one thing which could defeat him was--hunger. +Once the enemy realized this, and acted on it, their doom, unless +outside help came in time, was sealed. His enemies had realized it. + +There were no longer any attacks. Only desultory firing. But a cordon +had been drawn around the fortress, and the process of starvation had +set in. + +He was giving his Fate its last chance now. If the sign of help he was +seeking did not appear before the feeble wintry light had passed then +the die was cast. + +The minutes slipped by. The meagre light waned. The sign had not +come. As the last of the day merged into the semi-arctic night he left +his lookout and wearily lowered himself to the ground. His men were +gathered, huddled in their blankets for warmth, about a small fire +burning within the hut. + +Allan Mowbray imparted his tidings in the language of the men who +served him. With silent stoicism the little band of defenders listened +to the end. + +Keewin, he told them, had had time to get through. Full time to reach +the Fort, and return with the help he had asked for. That help should +have been with them three days ago. It had not come. Keewin, he +assured them, must have been killed. Nothing could otherwise have +prevented the help reaching them. He told them that if they remained +there longer they would surely die of hunger and cold. They would die +miserably. + +He paused for comment. None was forthcoming. His only reply was the +splutter of the small fire which they dared not augment. + +So he went on. + +He told them he had decided, if they would follow him, to die fighting, +or reach the open with whatever chances the winter trail might afford +them. He told them he was a white man who was not accustomed to bend +to the will of the northern Indian. They might break him, but he would +not bend. He reminded them they were Sioux, children of the great +Sitting Bull. He reminded them that death in battle was the glory of +the Indian. That no real Sioux would submit to starvation. + +This time his words were received with definite acclamation. So he +proceeded to his plans. + +Half an hour later the last of the stores was being consumed by men who +had not had an adequate meal for many days. + + +The aurora lit the night sky. The northern night had set in to the +fantastic measure of the ghostly dance of the polar spirits. The air +was still, and the temperature had fallen headlong. The pitiless cold +was searching all the warm life left vulnerable to its attack. The +shadowed eyes of night looked down upon the world through a gray +twilight of calculated melancholy. + +The cold peace of the elements was unshared by the striving human +creatures peopling the great white wilderness over which it brooded. +War to the death was being fought out under the eyes of the dancing +lights, and the twinkling contentment of the pallid world of stars. + +A small bluff of lank trees reared its tousled snow-crowned head above +the white heart of a wide valley. It was where the gorge of the Bell +River opened out upon low banks. It was where the only trail of the +region headed westwards. The bowels of the bluff were defended by a +meagre undergrowth, which served little better purpose than to +partially conceal them. About this bluff a ring of savages had formed. +Low-type savages of smallish stature, and of little better intelligence +than the predatory creatures who roamed the wild. + +With every passing moment the ring drew closer, foot by foot, yard by +yard. + +Inside the bluff prone forms lay hidden under the scrub. And only the +flash of rifle, and the biting echoes of its report, told of the epic +defence that was being put up. But for all the effort the movement of +the defenders, before the closing ring, was retrograde, always +retrograde towards the centre. + +Slowly but inevitably the ring grew smaller about the bluff. Numbers +of its ranks dropped out, and still forms littered the ground over +which it had passed. But each and every gap thus made was +automatically closed as the human ring drew in. + +The last phase began. The ring was no longer visible outside the +bluff. It had passed the outer limits, and entered the scrub. In the +centre, in the very heart of it, six Indians and a white man crouched +back to back--always facing the advancing enemy. Volley after volley +was flung wildly at them from every side, regardless of comrade, +regardless of everything but the lust to kill. The tumult of battle +rose high. The demoniac yells filled the air to the accompaniment of +an incessant rattle of rifle fire. The Bell River horde knew that at +last their lust was to be satisfied. So their triumph rose in a +vicious chorus upon the still air, and added its terror to the night. + +The defenders were further reduced to four. The white man had +abandoned his rifle. Now he stood erect, a revolver in each hand, in +the midst of the remainder of his faithful band. He was wounded in +many places. Nor had the Indians with him fared better. Warm blood +streamed from gaping wounds which were left unheeded. For the fight +was to the finish, and not one of them but would have it so. + +Nor was the end far off. It came swiftly, ruthlessly. It came with a +ferocious chorus from throats hoarse with their song of battle. It +came with a wild headlong rush, that recked nothing of the storm of +fire with which it was met. A dozen lifeless bodies piled themselves +before the staunch resistance. It made no difference. The avalanche +swept on, and over the human barricade, till it reached striking +distance for its crude native weapons. + +Allan Mowbray saw each of his last three men go down in a welter of +blood. His pistols were empty and useless. There was a moment of wild +physical struggle. Then, the next, he was borne down under the rush, +and life was literally hacked out of him. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE NIGHT + +The living-room in Ailsa Mowbray's home was full of that comfort which +makes life something more than a mere existence in places where the +elements are wholly antagonistic. The big square wood-stove was tinted +ruddily by the fierce heat of the blazing logs within. Carefully +trimmed oil lamps shed a mellow, but ample, light upon furnishings of +unusual quality. The polished red pine walls reflected the warmth of +atmosphere prevailing. And thick furs, spread over the well-laid green +block flooring, suggested a luxury hardly to be expected. + +The furniture was stout, and heavy, and angular, possessing that air of +strength, as well as comfort, which the modern mission type always +presents. The ample central table, too, was significant of the open +hospitality the mistress of it all loved to extend to the whole post, +and even to those chance travelers who might be passing through on the +bitter northern trail. + +Ailsa Mowbray had had her wish since the passing of the days when it +had been necessary to share in the labors of her husband. The simple +goal of her life had been a home of comfort for her growing children, +and a wealth of hospitality for those who cared to taste of it. + +The long winter night had already set in, and she was seated before the +stove in a heavy rocking-chair. Her busy fingers were plying her +needle, a work she loved in spite of the hard training of her early +days in the north. At the other side of the glowing stove Jessie was +reading one of the books with which Father Jose kept her supplied. The +wind was moaning desolately about the house. The early snowfall was +being drifted into great banks in the hollows. Up on the hilltop, +where the stockade of the Fort frowned out upon the world, the moaning +was probably translated into a tense, steady howl. + +The mother glanced at the clock which stood on the bureau near by. It +was nearly seven. Alec would be in soon from his work up at the store, +that hour of work which he faced so reluctantly after the evening meal +had been disposed of. In half an hour, too, Father Jose would be +coming up from the Mission. She was glad. It would help to keep her +from thinking. + +She sighed and glanced quickly over at her daughter. Jessie was poring +over her book. The sight of such absorption raised a certain feeling +of irritation in the mother. It seemed to her that Jessie could too +easily throw off the trouble besetting them all. She did not know that +the girl was fighting her own battle in her own way. She did not know +that her interest in her book was partly feigned. Nor was she aware +that the girl's effort was not only for herself, but to help the mother +she was unconsciously offending. + +The anxious waiting for Murray's return had been well-nigh unbearable. +These people, all the folk on Snake River, knew the dangers and chances +of the expedition. Confidence in Murray was absolute, but still it +left a wide margin for disaster. They had calculated to the finest +fraction the time that must elapse before his return. Three weeks was +the minimum, and the three weeks had already terminated three nights +ago. It was this which had set the mother's nerves on edge. It was +this knowledge which kept Jessie's eyes glued to the pages of her book. +It was this which made the contemplation of the later gathering of the +men in that living-room a matter for comparative satisfaction to Ailsa +Mowbray. + +Her needle passed to and fro under her skilful hands. There was almost +feverish haste in its movements. So, too, the pages of Jessie's book +seemed to be turned all too frequently. + +At last the mother's voice broke the silence. + +"It's storming," she said. + +"Yes, mother." Jessie had glanced up. But her eyes fell to her book +at once. + +"But it--won't stop them any." The mother's words lacked conviction. +Then, as if she realized that this was so, she went on more firmly. +"But Murray drives hard on the trail. And Allan--it would need a +bigger storm than this to stop him. If the river had kept open they'd +have made better time." She sighed her regret for the ice. + +"Yes, mother." Jessie again glanced up. This time her pretty eyes +observed her mother more closely. She noted the drawn lines about the +soft mouth, the deep indentation between the usually serene brows. She +sighed, and the pain at her own heart grew sharper. + +Quite suddenly the mother raised her head and dropped her sewing in her +lap. + +"Oh, child, child, I--I could cry at this--waiting," she cried in +desperate distress. "I'm scared! Oh, I'm scared to death. Scared as +I've never been before. But things--things can't have happened. I +tell you I won't believe that way. No--no! I won't. I won't. Oh, +why don't they get around? Why doesn't he come?" + +The girl laid her book aside. Her movement was markedly calm. Then +she steadily regarded her troubled mother. + +"Don't, mother, dear," she cried. "You mustn't. 'Deed you mustn't." +Her tone was a gentle but decided reproof. "We've figured it clear +out. All of us together. Father Jose and Alec, too. They're men, and +cleverer at that sort of thing than we are. Father Jose reckons the +least time Murray needs to get back in is three weeks. It's only three +days over. There's no sort of need to get scared for a week yet." + +The reproof was well calculated. It was needed. So Jessie understood. +Jessie possessed all her mother's strength of character, and had in +addition the advantage of her youth. + +Her mother was abashed at her own display of weakness. She was abashed +that it should be necessary for her own child to reprove her. She +hastily picked up her work again. + +But Jessie had abandoned her reading for good. She leaned forward in +her chair, gazing meditatively at a glowing, red-hot spot on the side +of the stove. + +Suddenly she voiced the train of thought which had held her occupied so +long. + +"Why does our daddy make Bell River, mother?" she demanded. "It's a +question I'm always asking myself. He's told me it's not a place for +man, devil, or trader. Yet he goes there. Say, he makes Bell River +every year. Why? He doesn't get pelts there. He once said he'd hate +to send his worst enemy up there. Yet he goes. Why? That's how I'm +always asking. Say, mother, you ran this trade with our daddy before +Murray came. You know why he goes there. You never say. Nor does +daddy. Nor Murray. Is--it a secret?" + +Ailsa replied without raising her eyes. + +"It's not for you to ask me," she said almost coldly. + +But Jessie was in no mood to be easily put off. + +"Maybe not, mother," she replied readily. "But you know, I guess. I +wonder. Well, I'm not going to ask for daddy's secrets. I just know +there is a secret to Bell River. And that secret is between you, and +him, and Murray. That's why Alec had to stop right here at the Fort. +Maybe it's a dangerous secret, since you keep it so close. But it +doesn't matter. All I know our daddy is risking his life every time he +hits the Bell River trail, and, secret or no secret, I ask is it right? +Is it worth while? If anything happened to our daddy you'd never, +never forgive yourself letting him risk his life where he wouldn't send +his worst enemy.'" + +The mother laid her work aside. Nor did she speak while she folded the +material deliberately, carefully. + +When at last she turned her eyes in her daughter's direction Jessie was +horrified at the change in them. They were haggard, hopeless, with a +misery of suspense and conviction of disaster. + +"It's no use, child," she said decidedly. "Don't ask me a thing. If +you guess there's a secret to Bell River--forget it. Anyway, it's not +my secret. Say, you think I can influence our daddy. You think I can +persuade him to quit getting around Bell River." She shook her head. +"I can't. No, child. I can't, nor could you, nor could anybody. Your +father's the best husband in the world. And I needn't tell you his +kindness and generosity. He's all you've ever believed him, and +more--much more. He's a big man, so big, you and I'll never even +guess. But just as he's all we'd have him in our lives, so he's all he +needs to be on the bitter northern trail. The secrets of that trail +are his. Nothing'll drag them out of him. Whatever I know, child, +I've had to pay for the knowing. Bell River's been my nightmare years +and years. I've feared it as I've feared nothing else. And now--oh, +it's dreadful. Say, child, for your father's sake leave Bell River out +of your thoughts, out of your talk. Never mention that you think of +any secret. As I said, 'forget it.'" + +Her mother's distress, and obvious dread impressed the girl seriously. +She nodded her head. + +"I'll never speak of it, mother," she assured her. "I'll try to forget +it. But why--oh, why should he make you endure these years of +nightmare? I----" + +Her mother abruptly held up a finger. + +"Hush! There's Father Jose." + +There was the sharp rattle of a lifted latch, and the slam-to of the +outer storm door. They heard the stamping of feet as the priest freed +his overshoes of snow. A moment later the inner door was pushed open. + +Father Jose greeted them out of the depths of his fur coat collar. + +"A bad night, ma'am," he said gravely. "The folks on the trail will +feel it--cruel." + +The little man divested himself of his coat. + +"The folk on the trail? Is there any news?" Ailsa Mowbray's tone said +far more than her mere words. + +Jessie had risen from her chair and crossed to her mother's side. She +stood now with a hand resting on the elder woman's shoulder. And the +priest, observing them as he advanced to the stove, and held his hands +to the comforting warmth, was struck by the twin-like resemblance +between them. + +Their beauty was remarkable. The girl's oval cheeks were no more +perfect in general outline than her mother's. Her sweet gray eyes were +no softer, warmer. The youthful lips, so ripe and rich, only possessed +the advantage of her years. The priest remembered Allan Mowbray's wife +at her daughter's age, and so he saw even less difference between them +than time had imposed. + +"That's what I've been along up to see Alec at the store for. Alec's +gone out with a dog team to bear a hand--if need be." + +The white-haired man turned his back on the stove and faced the +spacious room. He withdrew a snuffbox from his semi-clerical vest +pocket, and thoughtfully tapped it with a forefinger. Then he helped +himself to a large pinch of snuff. As far as the folks on Snake River +knew this was the little priest's nearest approach to vice. + +"Alec gone out? You never told us?" Ailsa Mowbray's eyes searched the +sharp profile of the man, whose face was deliberately averted. "Tell +me," she demanded. "You've had news. Bad? Is it bad? Tell me! Tell +me quickly!" + +The man fumbled in an inner pocket and produced a folded paper. He +opened it, and gazed at it silently. Then he passed it to the wife, +whose hands were held out and trembling. + +"I've had this. It came in by runner. The poor wretch was badly +frost-bitten. It's surely a cruel country." + +But Ailsa Mowbray was not heeding him. Nor was Jessie. Both women +were examining the paper, and its contents. The mother read it aloud. + + +"DEAR FATHER JOSE: + +"We'll make the Fort to-morrow night if the weather holds. Can you +send out dogs and a sled? Have things ready for us. + +"MURRAY." + + +During the reading the priest helped himself to another liberal pinch +of snuff. Then he produced a great colored handkerchief, and trumpeted +violently into it. But he was watching the women closely out of the +corners of his hawk-like eyes. + +Ailsa read the brief note a second time, but to herself. Then, with +hands which had become curiously steady, she refolded it, retaining it +in her possession with a strangely detached air. It was almost as if +she had forgotten it, and that her thoughts had flown in a direction +which had nothing to do with the letter, or the Padre, or---- + +But Jessie came at the man in a tone sharpened by the intensity of her +feelings. + +"Say, Father, there's no more than that note? The runner? Did he tell +you--anything? You--you questioned him?" + +"Yes." + +Suddenly the mother took a step forward. One of her hands closed upon +the old priest's arm with a grip that made him wince. + +"The truth, Father," she demanded, in a tone that would not be denied. +Her eyes were wide and full of a desperate conviction. "Quick, the +truth! What was there that Murray didn't write in that note? Allan? +What of Allan? Did he reach him? Is--is he dead? Why did he want +that sled? Tell me. Tell it all, quick!" + +She was breathing hard. Her desperate fear was heart-breaking. Jessie +remained silent, but her eyes were lit by a sudden terror no less than +her mother's. + +Suddenly the priest faced the stove again. He gazed down at it for a +fraction of time. Then he turned to the woman he had known in her +girlhood, and his eyes were lit with infinite kindness, infinite grief +and sympathy. + +"Yes," he said in a low voice. "There was a verbal message for my ears +alone. Murray feared for you. The shock. So he told me. Allan----" + +"Is dead!" Ailsa Mowbray whispered the words, as one who knows but +cannot believe. + +"Is dead." The priest was gazing down at the stove once more. + +No word broke the silence of the room. The fire continued to roar up +the stovepipe. The moaning of the wind outside deplorably emphasized +the desolation of the home. For once it harmonized with the note of +despair which flooded the hearts of these people. + +It was Jessie who first broke down under the cruel lash of Fate. She +uttered a faint cry. Then a desperate sob choked her. + +"Oh, daddy, daddy!" she cried, like some grief-stricken child. + +In a moment she was clasped to the warm bosom of the woman who had been +robbed of a husband. + +Not a tear fell from the eyes of the mother. She stood still, silent, +exerting her last atom of moral strength in support of her child. + +Father Jose stirred. His eyes rested for a moment upon the two women. +A wonderfully tender, misty light shone in their keen depths. No word +of his could help them now, he knew. So with soundless movement he +resumed his furs and overshoes, and, in silence, passed out into the +night. + + +The wind howled against the ramparts of the Fort. It swept in through +the open gates, whistling its fierce glee as it buffeted the staunch +buildings thus uncovered to its merciless blast. The black night air +was alive with a fog of snow, swept up in a sort of stinging, frozen +dust. The lights of Nature had been extinguished, blotted out by the +banking storm-clouds above. It seemed as though this devil's +playground had been cleared of every intrusion so that the riot of the +northern demons might be left complete. + +A fur-clad figure stood within the great gateway. The pitiful glimmer +of a lantern swung from his mitted hand. His eyes, keen, penetrating, +in spite of the blinding snow, searched the direction where the trail +flowed down from the Fort. He was waiting, still, silent, in the howl +of the storm. + +A sound came up the hill. It was a sound which had nothing to do with +the storm. It was the voices of men, urgent, strident. A tiny spark +suddenly grew out of the blackness. It was moving, swinging +rhythmically. A moment later shadowy figures moved in the darkness. +They were vague, uncertain. But they came, following closely upon the +spark of light, which was borne in the hand of a man on snowshoes. + +The fur-clad figure swung his lantern to and fro. He moved himself +from post to post of the great gateway. Then he stood in his original +position. + +The spark of light came on. It was another lantern, borne in the hand +of another fur-clad figure. It passed through the gateway. A string +of panting dogs followed close behind, clawing at the ground for +foothold, bellies low to the ground as they hauled at the rawhide tugs +which harnessed them to their burden behind. One by one they passed +the waiting figure. One by one they were swallowed up by the blackness +within the Fort. Five in all were counted. Then came a long dark +shape, which glided over the snow with a soft, hissing sound. + +The waiting man made a sign with his mitted hand as the shape passed +him. His lips moved in silent prayer. Then he turned to the gates. +They swung to. The heavy bars lumbered into their places under his +guidance. Then, as though in the bitterness of disappointment, the +howling gale flung itself with redoubled fury against them, till the +stout timbers creaked and groaned under the wanton attack. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOHN KARS + +Seven months of dreadful winter had passed. Seven months since the +mutilated body of Allan Mowbray had been packed home by dog-train to +its last resting place within the storm-swept Fort he had labored so +hard to serve. It was the open season again. That joyous season of +the annual awakening of the northern world from its nightmare of stress +and storm, a nightmare which drives human vitality down to the very +limit of its mental and physical endurance. + +Father Jose and Ailsa Mowbray had been absent from the post for the +last three months of the winter. Their return from Leaping Horse, the +golden heart of the northern wild, had occurred at the moment when the +ice-pack had vanished from the rivers, and the mud-sodden trail had +begun to harden under the brisk, drying winds of spring. They had made +the return journey at the earliest moment, before the summer movements +of the glacial fields had converted river and trail into a constant +danger for the unwary. + +Allan Mowbray had left his affairs in Father Jose's hands. They were +as simple and straight as a simple man could make them. The will had +contained no mention of his partner, Murray's name, except in the way +of thanks. To the little priest he had confided the care of his +bereaved family. And it was obvious, from the wording of his will, +that the burden thus imposed upon his lifelong friend had been +willingly undertaken. + +His wishes were clear, concise. All his property, all his business +interests were for his wife. Apart from an expressed desire that Alec +should be given a salaried appointment in the work of the post during +his mother's lifetime, and that at her death the boy should inherit, +unconditionally, her share of the business, and the making of a +monetary provision for his daughter, Jessie, the disposal of his +worldly goods was quite unconditional. + +Father Jose had known the contents of the will beforehand. In fact, he +had helped his old friend in his decisions. Nor had Alec's position +been decided upon without his advice. These two men understood the boy +too well to chance helping to spoil his life by an ample, unearned +provision. They knew the weak streak in his character, and had decided +to give him a chance, by the process of time, to obtain that balance +which might befit him for the responsibility of a big commercial +enterprise. + +When Murray learned the position of affairs he offered no comment. +Without demur he concurred in every proposition set before him by +Father Jose. He rendered the little man every assistance in his power +in the work which had been so suddenly thrust upon his shoulders. + +So it was that more than one-half of the winter was passed in delving +into the accounts of the enterprise Allan and his partner had built up, +while the other, the second half, was spent by Mrs. Mowbray and Father +Jose at Leaping Horse, where the ponderous legal machinery was set in +motion for the final settlement of the estate. + +For Father Jose the work was not without its compensations. His grief +at Allan's dreadful end had been almost overwhelming, and the work in +which he found himself involved had come as a help at the moment it was +most needed. Then there was Ailsa, and Jessie, and Alec. His work +helped to keep him from becoming a daily witness of their terrible +distress. Furthermore, there were surprises for him in the pages of +the great ledgers at the Fort. Surprises of such a nature that he +began to wonder if he were still living in the days of miracles, or if +he were simply the victim of hallucination. + +He found that Allan was rich, rich beyond his most exaggerated dreams. +He found that this obscure fur post carried on a wealth of trade which +might have been the envy of a corporation a hundred times its size. He +found that for years a stream of wealth had been pouring into the +coffers at the post in an ever-growing tide. He found that +seven-tenths of it was Allan's, and that Murray McTavish considered +himself an amply prosperous man on the remaining three-tenths. + +Where did it all come from? How did it come about? He expressed no +wonder to anybody. He gave no outward sign of his astonishment. There +was a secret. There must be a secret. But the books yielded up no +secret. Only the broad increasing tide of a trade which coincided with +the results. But he felt for all their simple, indisputable figures, +they concealed in their pages a cleverly hidden secret, a profound +secret, which must alone have been shared by the partners, and possibly +Ailsa Mowbray. Allan Mowbray's fortune, apart from the business, +closely approximated half a million dollars. It was incredible. It +was so stupendous as to leave the simple little priest quite +overwhelmed. + +However, with due regard for his friendship, he spared himself nothing. +Nothing was neglected. Nothing was left undone in his stewardship. +And so, within seven months of Allan's disastrous end, he found himself +once more free to turn to the simple cares of the living in his +administration of the Mission on Snake River, which was the sum total +of his life's ambition and work. + +His duty to the dead was done. And it seemed to his plain thinking +mind that the episode should have been closed forever. But it was not. +Moreover, he knew it was not. How he knew was by no means clear. +Somehow he felt that the end was far off, somewhere in the dim future. +Somehow he felt that he was only at the beginning of things. A secret +lay concealed under his friend's great wealth, and the thought of it +haunted him. It warned him, too, and left him pondering deeply. +However, he did not talk, not even to his friend's widow. + + +The round form of Murray McTavish filled the office chair to +overflowing. For a man of his energy and capacity, for a man so +perfectly equipped, mentally, and in spirit, for the fierce battle of +the northern latitudes, it was a grotesque freak of Nature that his +form, so literally corpulent, should be so inadequate. However, there +it was. And Nature, seeming to realize the anachronism, had done her +best to repair her blunder. If he were laboring under a superfluity of +adipose, she had equipped him with muscles of steel and lungs of +tremendous expansion, a fierce courage, and nerves of a tempering such +as she rarely bestowed. + +He was smoking a strong cigar and reading a letter in a decided +handwriting. It was a man's letter, and it was of a business nature. +Yet though it entailed profit for its recipient it seemed to inspire no +satisfaction. + +The big eyes were a shade wider than usual. Their glowing depths +burned more fiercely. He was stirred, and the secret of his feelings +lay in the signature at the end of the letter. It was a signature that +Murray McTavish disliked. + +"John Kars," he muttered aloud. + +There was no friendliness in his tone. There was no friendliness in +the eyes which were raised from the letter and turned on the deep-set +window overlooking the open gates beyond. + +For some silent moments he sat there thinking deeply. He continued to +smoke, his gaze abstractedly fixed upon the blue film which floated +before it upon the still air. Gradually the dislike seemed to pass out +of his eyes. The fire in them to die down. Something almost like a +smile replaced it, a smile for which his face was so perfect a setting. +But his smile would have been difficult to describe. Perhaps it was +one of pleasure. Perhaps it was touched with irony. Perhaps, even, it +was the smile, the dangerous smile of a man who is fiercely resentful. +It was a curiosity in Murray that his smile could at any time be +interpreted into an expression of any one of the emotions. + +But suddenly there came an interruption. In a moment his abstraction +was banished. He sprang alertly from his chair and moved to the door +which he held open. He had seen the handsome figure of Ailsa Mowbray +pass his window. Now she entered the office in response to his silent +invitation. She took the chair which always stood ready before a +second desk. It was the desk which had been Allan Mowbray's, and which +now was used by his son. + +"I've come to talk about Alec," the mother said, turning her chair +about, and facing the man who was once more at his desk. + +"Sure." The man nodded. His smile had vanished. His look was all +concern. He knew, none better than he, that Alec must be discussed +between them. + +Ailsa Mowbray had aged in the seven months since her husband's death. +She had aged considerably. Her spirit, her courage, were undiminished, +but the years had at last levied the toll which a happy wifehood had +denied them. Nor was Murray unobservant of these things. His partner +in the fortunes of Fort Mowbray was an old woman. + +"There's difficulty," the mother went on, her handsome eyes averting +their gaze towards the window. "Allan didn't reckon on the boy when he +said he should have a position right here." + +Murray shook his head. + +"No," he said. "Guess that desk's been closed down since the season +opened. He's brought in half a hundred pelts to his own gun, and +guesses he's carrying on his father's work." There was a biting irony +in the man's tone. + +Ailsa Mowbray sighed. + +"He doesn't seem to like settling to the work here." + +It was some moments before Murray replied. His big eyes were deeply +reflective. The fire in their depths seemed to come and go under +varying emotions. His eyes were at all times expressive, but their +expressions could rarely be read aright. + +"He's troubled with youth, ma'am," he said, as though at last arrived +at a definite conclusion, "and he needs to get shut of it before he can +be of use to himself, or--to us. You'll excuse me if I talk plain. +I've got to talk plain, right here and now. Maybe it hasn't occurred +to either of us before just what it means to our enterprise Allan being +gone. It means a mighty big heap, so almighty big I can only just see +over the top. I take it you'll get me when I say this thing can't be +run by a woman. It needs to be run by a man, and, seeing Alec don't +figger to set around in this store, I've got to do most of it--with +your help. Y'see, ma'am, there's just two sides to this proposition. +Either we run it together, or you sell out to me. Anyway, I'm not +selling. I'll take it you'll say we run it together. Good. Then it's +up to me to do the man's work, while you, I guess, won't have forgotten +the work you had to do before I came. If you feel like fixing things +that way I guess we can make good till this boy, Alec, forgets he's a +kid, and we can hand him all Allan didn't choose to hand him during his +life. Get me? Meanwhile we're going to help the boy get over his +youth by letting him get his nose outside this region, and see a live +city where things happen plenty, and money buys a good time. That way +we'll bridge over what looks like a pretty awkward time. I take up the +work where Allan quit it, and you--well, it's all here same as it was +before I got around. I want you to feel I figger Allan left me with a +trust which I'm mighty glad to fulfil. He let me in on the ground +floor of this thing, and I don't forget it. I want to do all I know to +fix it right for those he left behind him. Maybe you'll find me rough +sometimes, maybe I don't happen to have a patience like old Job. But +I'm going to put things through, same as I know Allan would have had +them." + +The frankness of the man was completely convincing. Ailsa expanded +under the warm kindliness of his tone in a manner which surprised even +herself. Hitherto this man had never appealed to her. She knew her +husband's regard for him. She had always seen in him an astute man of +business, with a strength of purpose and capacity always to be relied +upon. But the sentiments he now expressed were surprising, and came as +a welcome display such as she would never have expected. + +"You are good to us, Murray," she said gratefully. "Maybe it won't +sound gracious, but Allan always told me I could rely on you at all +times. You've never given me reason to doubt it. But I hadn't thought +to hear you talk that way. I'm real glad we had this talk. I'm real +glad I came. I don't just know how to thank you." + +"Don't you try, ma'am," was the man's dry response. "Guess I've yet +got to show you I can make my talk good before you need to think +thanks. And, anyway, maybe the thanks'll need to come from me before +we're through." + +He picked up the letter on the desk before him, and glanced at it. +Then he flung it aside. Ailsa Mowbray waited for him to go on. But as +he gave no further sign she was forced to a question. + +"I don't understand," she said at last. "How do you mean?" + +Murray laughed. It was the easy, ready laugh the woman was accustomed +to. + +"There's some things that aren't easy to put into words. Not even to a +mother." His eyes had become serious again. "There's some things that +always make a feller feel foolish--when you put 'em into words." + +The mother's thought darted at once to the only possible interpretation +of his preamble. Her woman's instinct was alert. She waited. + +"Maybe it's not the time to talk of these things, ma'am. But--but it's +mighty difficult to figger such time when it comes along. I've got a +letter here makes me want to holler 'help.' It's from a feller we all +know, and most of us like well enough. For me, I'm scared of him. +Scared to death. He's the only man I've ever felt that way towards in +my life." + +His words were accompanied by another laugh so ringing that Ailsa +Mowbray was forced to a smile at his care-free way of stating his fears. + +"Your terror's most alarming," she said comfortably. "Will you tell me +of it?" + +"Sure." Murray picked up the letter again and stared at it. "Have you +got any feller fixed in your mind you're yearning for your daughter +Jessie to marry?" + +The question was abrupt, startling. And somehow to Ailsa Mowbray it +was as though a fierce winter blast had suddenly descended upon her +heart. + +"I--don't think I'd thought about it--seriously," the mother replied +after a pause. + +Murray swung about and faced her. His eyes were serious. There could +be no mistaking his earnestness. + +"I can't figger how you're going to take what I've got to say, ma'am. +I said the 'thanks' might be all due from me, before we're through. I +don't know. Anyway, I guess I need to get busy right away in the way +it seems to me best." + +"You want to marry--Jessie?" + +The mother's question came without any enthusiasm. There was even +coldness in it. + +"More than anything in the world, ma'am." + +The sincerity of the man was in every line of his face. It shone in +the burning depths of his eyes. It rang in the vibrant tones of his +voice. + +For a moment the mother glanced about her rather helplessly. Then she +gathered her faculties with an effort. + +"Have--have you asked her?" + +"No, ma'am." + +Ailsa Mowbray further added a helpless gesture with her hands. It +seemed to be the cue the man was awaiting. + +"No, ma'am," he reiterated. "I'd have spoken months ago, but--for the +things that's happened. Maybe you won't just get it when I say that +with Allan around the position was clear as day. It was up to me to +leave her folks till I'd asked her. Now it's different. Jessie has no +father behind her. Only her mother. And her mother has no husband +behind her to help her figger her daughter's future right. Now I come +to you, ma'am. Guess I'm a plain man more ways than one. I'm just +thirty-five. I've a goodish stake in this proposition of ours, and can +give your daughter all she needs of the world's goods. I love her, and +want her bad, ma'am. If she'll marry me, why, I'll just do all I know +to make her happy." + +The appeal was full of simple, straightforward honesty. There could be +no denying it. Even its crudity was all in its favor. But all this +passed Ailsa Mowbray completely by. + +"What made you choose this moment?" she questioned, avoiding any direct +answer. + +Murray laughed. It was a laugh which hid his real feelings. He held +up the letter. + +"John Kars is coming along up." + +"And so you spoke--before he came." + +"Sure." Suddenly Murray flung the letter on the desk in a fashion that +said more than words. "I'm scared of John Kars, ma'am, because I want +to marry your daughter. I'm no coward. But I know myself, and I know +him. Here am I ready to meet John Kars, or a dozen of his kind, in any +play known to man, except rivalry for a woman. He's got them all where +he wants them from the jumping off mark. It's only natural, too. Look +at him. If he'd stepped out of the picture frame of the Greek Gods he +couldn't have a better window dressing. He's everything a woman ever +dreamed of in a man. He's all this country demands in its battles. +Then take a peek at me. You'll find a feller cussed to death with a +figure that's an insult to a prime hog. What's inside don't figger a +cent. The woman don't look beyond the face and figure, and the +capacity to do. Maybe I can do all John Kars can do. But when it +comes to face and figure, it's not a race. No, ma'am, it's a +procession. And I'm taking his dust all the time." + +"Do you think Jessie is--likes John Kars?" The mother's question came +thoughtfully. To Murray it was evident the direction in which she was +leaning. + +"She'd need to be a crazy woman if she didn't," he retorted bluntly. + +Then he rose from his seat, and moved over to the window. He stood +gazing out of it. Ailsa Mowbray's eyes followed his movements. They +regarded him closely, and she thought of his own description of +himself. Yes, he was not beautiful. Wholesome, strong, capable. But +he was fat--so fat. A shortish, tubby man whose figure added ten years +to his age. + +But with his face towards the window, his strong tones came back to +her, and held her whole attention. + +"Yes, ma'am. She likes him. But I don't guess it's more than +that--yet. Maybe it would never become more if you discouraged it. I +could even think she'd forget to remember the queer figure I cut in the +eyes of a woman--if it suited you to tell her diff'rent. It seems a +pretty mean proposition for a feller to have to hand his love interests +over to another, even when it's the girl's mother. But whatever I can +do in the affairs of the life about us, whatever my ability, ma'am, to +put through the business side of our affairs, I guess I'm mighty short +winded in the race for a woman's love, and--know it. Say, you guessed +just now you owed me thanks for the things I figger to do for you. I'd +say if you'd feel like helping me to marry Jessie I'd owe you more +thanks on the balance than I can ever hope to pay off." + +He abruptly turned back from the window. He stepped quickly towards +her, his movements surprising in their vigor. He looked down into the +woman's handsome, but now lined, face, and his eyes shone with a +burning fire tremendously compelling. + +Ailsa felt the influence he wielded. She read the strength of the +man's emotion. She knew that for once she was being permitted a sight +of the man behind his mask of smiling serenity. Nor were these things +without effect. Furthermore, her own sense warned her that in the best +interests of their affairs, of the girl, herself, Murray McTavish was +certainly the husband for Jessie. But even so there was more than +reluctance. There was desperate distaste. The romantic vision of John +Kars, the wealthiest mine owner in Leaping Horse, the perfect +adventurer of the northern trail, rose before her eyes, and made her +hesitate. In the end, however, she thrust it aside and rose from her +chair, and held out her hand. + +"I can promise no result," she said seriously, and she knew it was +subterfuge, "I'll do my best. Anyway, your cause shan't suffer at my +hands. Will that do?" + +Murray McTavish took her warm hand in both of his. He held it tightly +for a few seconds. + +"My thanks begin from now, ma'am," he said. "I guess they'll go right +on to--the end." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AT SNAKE RIVER LANDING + +Jessie Mowbray left the Mission House as the last of the small crowd of +copper-hued pappooses bundled pell-mell in the direction of the teepees +and cabins of their dusky parents. + +For a few moments she stood there in the open with pensive eyes +following the movements of scurrying, toddling legs, many of them +encased in the minutest of buckskin, chap-like pantaloons and the +tiniest of beaded moccasins. It was a sight that yielded her a +tenderness of emotion that struggled hard to dispel the cloud which her +father's death had caused to settle over the joyous spirit of her young +life. + +In a measure it was not without success. The smallness of these Indian +children, their helplessness, appealed to her woman's heart as possibly +nothing else could have done. It mattered nothing to her that the +fathers and mothers of these tots belonged to a low type of race +without scruple, or honesty, or decency, or any one of the better +features of the aboriginal. They were as low, perhaps lower than many +of the beasts of the field. But these "pappooses," so quaint and +small, so very helpless, were entirely dependent upon the succor of +Father Jose's Mission for the hope of their future. The sight of them +warmed her spirit out of the cold depths of her own personal grief, and +left her yearning. + +The last of the children vanished within the shelter of the surrounding +woods, where the homes of their parents had been set up. Then movement +in the clearing ceased. All was still in the early evening light. The +soft charm, the peace of the Mission, which had been the outward and +visible sign of her understanding of home all her years, settled once +more, and with it fell the bitter, haunting memory of the tragedy of +seven months ago. + +To Jessie Mowbray the tragedy of the life about her had suddenly become +the seriousness of it. In one night she had been robbed of all the +buoyant optimism of youth. As yet she had failed to achieve the smile +of courage under the buffet, just as she had never yet discovered that +the real spirit of life is to achieve hard knocks with the same ready +smile which should accompany acts of kindliness. + +Her father had been her hero. And she had been robbed of her hero by +the ruthless hands of the very savages whom it was her daily mission to +help towards enlightenment. The bitterness of it had sunk deeply into +a sensitive heart. She lacked the experiences of life of her mother. +She lacked the Christian fortitude of Father Jose. She knew nothing of +the iron nerve of Murray, or the youthful selfishness of her brother +Alec. So she shrank under the burden of bereavement, and fostered a +loyal resentment against her father's slayers. + +The chill of the northern evening was already in the air. The sunlight +fell athwart the great fringe of foliage which crowned the lank trunks +of primordial pine woods. It lit the clearing with a mellow radiance, +and left the scene tempered with a shadowed beauty, which in all +Jessie's girlhood had never failed to appeal to her. Now it passed her +by. She saw only the crude outline of the great log home, which, for +her, had been desolated. About her were the equally crude Mission +buildings, with Father Jose's hut a few yards away. Then there was the +light smoke haze from the Indian camp-fires, rising heavily on the +still air, and a smell of cooking was painfully evident. Here and +there a camp dog prowled, great powerful brutes reared to the burden of +the trail. The sound of human voice, too, came from the woodlands, +chanting the droning song of labor which the squaws love to voice +without tune or meaning. + +Jessie moved slowly off in the direction of her home. Half-way across +the clearing she paused. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she turned +away and passed down the narrow avenue which led to the landing on the +river. There was an hour to supper. The twilight of her home was less +attractive now than the music of the river, which had so often borne +the burden of Allan Mowbray's laden canoes. + +Jessie had lost none of her youthful grace of movement. Her tall +figure, so round with the charms of womanhood, yet so supple, so full +of natural, unfettered grace, made her a delight to the eye. Her +beauty was unquestioned. But the change in her expression was marked. +Her ripe young lips were firmer, harder even. There was, too, a slight +down drooping at the corners of her mouth. Then her eyes had lost +something of their inclination to smile. They were the grave eyes of +one who has passed through an age of suffering. + +She moved swiftly to the landing and took up a position on one of the +timber balks set for mooring. She drew her coat about her. The dying +sun lit her ruddy brown hair with its wintry smile, and the song of the +flowing waters caught and lulled her spirit. + +Murray McTavish approached her. He came with bristling step and an air +of virile energy. He dragged forward an empty crate, and, setting it +near her, used it for a seat. + +She withdrew her gaze from the glacial field beyond the river, and +looked into the man's smiling eyes, as he greeted her. + +"There's just about two things liable to hold a young girl sitting +around on the bank of the Snake River, with a spring breeze coming down +off the glacier. One of them's dreams, the sort of romance that don't +belong to these latitudes." + +"And the other?" + +"Mostly foolishness." + +There was no offence in the man's manner. Jessie was forced to smile. +His words were so characteristic. + +"Then I guess it's foolishness with me," she said. + +"That's how I figgered when I saw you making this way, just as I was +leaving the store. Say, that coat's mighty thin. Where's your fur--if +you have to sit around here?" + +Murray's eyes surveyed the long cloth coat doubtfully. + +The girl shook her head. + +"I'm not cold." + +A sharp, splitting crack, followed by a dull, echoing boom drew the +eyes of both towards the precipitous bank across the river. The great +glacial field had already awakened from its long winter sleep. Once +more it was the living giant of countless ages stirring and heaving +imperceptibly but irresistibly. + +The sound died out and the evening peace settled once more upon the +world. In the years of their life upon this river these people had +witnessed thousands, ay, perhaps millions of tons of the discolored ice +of the glacier hurled into the summer melting pot. The tremendous +voice of the glacial world was powerless to disturb them. + +Murray gave a short laugh. + +"Guess romance has no sort of place in these regions," he said, his +thoughts evidently claimed by the voice they had both just listened to. + +Jessie looked round. + +"Romance doesn't belong to regions," she said. "Only to the human +heart." + +Murray nodded. + +"That's so--too." His amiable smile beamed into the girl's serious +eyes. "Those pore darn fools that don't know better than to hunt fish +through holes in the polar ice are just as chock full of romance as any +school miss. Sure. If it depended on conditions I guess we'd need to +go hungry for it. Facts, and desperate hard facts at that, go to make +up life north of 'sixty,' and any one guessing different is li'ble to +find all the trouble Providence is so generous handing out hereabouts." + +"I think that way, too--now. I didn't always." + +The girl sighed. + +"No." + +The man seemed to have nothing further to add, and his smile died out. +Jessie was once more reflectively contemplating the masses of +overhanging ice on the opposite bank. The thoughts of both had drifted +back over a space of seven months. + +It was the man who finally broke the spell which seemed to have fallen. +He broke it with a movement of impatience. + +"What's the use?" he said at last. + +"No--there's no use. Nothing can ever bring him back to us." The girl +suddenly flung out her hands in a gesture of helpless earnestness and +longing. "Oh, if he might have been spared to me. My daddy, my brave, +brave daddy." + +Again a silence fell between them, and again it was the man who finally +broke it. This time there was no impatience. His strange eyes were +serious; they were as deeply earnest as the girl's. But the light in +them suggested a stirring of deep emotion which had nothing of regret +in it. + +"His day had to come," he said reflectively. "A man can live and +prosper on the northern trail, I guess, if he's built right. He can +beat it right out, maybe for years. But it's there all the time +waiting--waiting. And it's going to get us all--in the end. That is +if we don't quit before its jaws close on our heels. He was a big man. +He was a strong man. I mean big and strong in spirit. You've lost a +great father, and I a--partner. It's seven months and more +since--since that time." His voice had dropped to a gentle, persuasive +note, his dark eyes gazing urgently at the girl's averted face. "Is it +good to sit around here in the chill evening dreaming, and thinking, +and tearing open afresh a wound time and youths ready to heal up good? +Say, I don't just know how to hand these things right. I don't even +know if they are right. But it kind of seems to me we folk have all +got our work to do in a country that don't stand for even natural +regrets. It seems to me we all got to shut our teeth and get right on, +or we'll pay the penalty this country is only too ready to claim. +Guess we need all the force in us to make good the life north of +'sixty.' Sitting around thinking back's just going to weaken us so +we'll need to hand over the first time our bluff is called." + +Jessie's sad eyes came back to his as he finished speaking. She nodded. + +"Yes. You're surely right. It's no use. It's worse. It's playing +the enemy's game. Mother needs my help. Alec. The little kiddies at +the Mission. You're right, Murray." Then, in a moment of passion her +eyes lit and all that was primitive in her flamed up. "Oh, I could +curse them, I could crush them in these two hands," she cried, suddenly +thrusting out two clenched small fists in impotent threat, +"these--these devils who have killed my daddy!" + +The man's regard never wavered. The girl's beauty in the passion of +the moment held him. Never had her desirability appeared greater to +him. It was on the tip of his tongue to pour out hot words of love. +To force her, by the very strength of his passionate determination, to +yield him the place in her heart he most desired. But he refrained. +He remembered in time that such a course must be backed by a physical +attraction which he knew he entirely lacked. That lack must be +compensated for by an added caution. + +He shook his head. + +"Don't talk that way," he said gently. "It's all been awful. But it +can't be undone now, and---- Say, Jessie, you got your mother, and a +brother who needs you. Guess you're more blessed than I am. I haven't +a soul in the world. I'm just a bit of flotsam drifting through life, +looking for an anchorage, and never finding one. That's how it is I'm +right here now. If I'd had folks I don't guess I'd be north of 'sixty' +now. This place is just the nearest thing to an anchorage I've lit on +yet, but even so I haven't found a right mooring." + +"You've no folks--none at all?" + +Jessie's moment of passion had passed. All her sympathy had been +suddenly aroused by the man's effort to help her, and his unusual +admission of his own loneliness. + +A shadow of the man's usual smile flickered across his features. + +"Not a soul," he said. "Not a father, mother, relative or--or wife. +Sounds mean, don't it?" Quite abruptly he laughed outright. + +"Oh, I could tell you a dandy story of days and nights of lonesomeness. +I could tell you of a boyhood spent chasing the streets o' nights +looking for a sidewalk to crawl under, or a sheltered corner folks +wouldn't drive me out of. I could tell you of hungry days without a +prospect of better to come, of moments when I guessed the cold waters +of Puget Sound looked warmer than the night ahead of me. I could tell +you of a mighty battle fought out in silence and despair. Of a resolve +to make good by any means open to man. I could tell you of strivings +and failures that 'ud come nigh breaking your heart, and a resolve +unbreakable not to yield. Gee, I've known it all, all the kicks life +can hand a derelict born under an evil influence. Say, I don't even +know who my parents were." + +"I never thought--I never knew----" + +The girl's words were wrung from her by her feelings. In a moment this +man had appeared to her in a new light. There was no sign of weakness +or self-pity in Murray as he went on. He was smiling as usual, that +smile that always contained something of a mocking irony. + +"Pshaw! It don't figger anyway--now. Nothing figgers now but the +determination never to find such days--and nights again. I said I need +to find a real mooring. A mooring such as Allan found when he found +your mother. Well, maybe I shall. I'm hoping that way. But even +there Nature's done all she knows to hand me a blank. I'd like to say +look at me, and see the scurvy trick Nature's handed out my way. But I +won't. Gee, no. Still I'll find that mooring if I have to buy it with +the dollars I mean to wring out of this devil's own country." + +Jessie's feelings had been caught and held through sympathy. Sympathy +further urged her. This man had failed to appeal before. A feeling of +gentle pity stirred her. + +"Don't say that," she cried, all her ideals outraged by the suggestion +of purchasing the natural right of every man. "There's a woman's love +for every man in the world. That surely is so. Guess it's the good +God's scheme of things. Saint or sinner it doesn't matter a thing. +We're as God made us. And He's provided for all our needs. Some day +you'll wonder what it was ever made you feel this way. Some day," she +went on, smiling gently into the round face and the glowing eyes +regarding her, "when you're old, and rich, and happy in the bosom of +your family, in a swell house, maybe in New York City, you'll likely +get wondering how it came you sat right here making fool talk to a girl +denying the things Providence had set out for you." Her pretty eyes +became grave as she leaned forward earnestly. "Say, I can see it all +for you now. The picture's standing right out clear. I can see your +wife now----" + +The man smiled at her earnestness as she paused. + +"Can you?" + +Jessie nodded. Her gaze was turned upon the far reach of the river. + +"Yes. She's medium height--like you. She's a woman of sort of +practical motherly instinct. Her eyes are blue, and clear, and fine, +revealing the wholesome mind behind. She'll be slim, I guess, and her +gown's just swell--real swell. She'll----" + +The man broke in on an impulse which he was powerless to deny. + +"She won't be tall?" he demanded, his eyes shining into hers with an +intensity which made Jessie shrink before them. "She won't move with +the grace of--of a Juno, straight limbed, erect? She won't have dandy +gray eyes that look through and beyond all the time? She won't have +lovely brown hair which sort of reflects the old sun every time it +shines on it? She won't have a face so beautiful it sets a feller just +crazy to look at it? Say, if it was like that," he cried, in a voice +thrilling with passion, "I'd feel I didn't owe Providence the kick +I've----" + +How far his feelings would have carried him it was impossible to say. +He had been caught off his guard, and had flung caution to the winds. +But he was spared the possible consequences by an interruption which +would not be denied. It was an interruption which had claimed them +both at the same instant. + +A sound came out of the distance on the still evening air. It came +from the bend of the river where it swung away to the northwest. It +was the sound of the dipping of many paddles, a sound which was of +paramount importance to these people at all times. + +The girl was on her feet first. Nor was Murray a second behind her. +Both were gazing intently out in the growing dusk. Simultaneously an +exclamation broke from them. Then the girl spoke while the man +remained silent. + +"Canoes," she said. "One, two, three, four--five. Five canoes. I +know whose they are." + +Murray was standing close beside her, the roundness of his ungainly +figure aggravated by the contrast. He, too, was gazing hard at the +flotilla. He, too, had counted the canoes as they came into view. He, +too, had recognized them, just as he had recognized the thrill of +delighted anticipation in the girl's voice as she announced her +recognition of them. + +He knew, no one better, all that lay behind the shining gray of the +girl's eyes as she beheld the canoes approach. He needed no words to +tell him. And he thanked his stars for the interruption which had +saved him carrying his moment of folly further. + +His eyes expressed no anticipation. Their glowing fires seemed to have +become extinguished. There was no warmth in them. There was little +life in their darkly brooding watchfulness. Never was a contrast so +deeply marked between two watchers of the same object. The man was +cold, his expression hard. It was an expression before which even his +habitual smile had been forced to flee. Jessie was radiant. +Excitement surged till she wanted to cry out. To call the name that +was on her lips. + +Instead, however, she turned swiftly upon the man at her side, who +instantly read the truth in the radiant gray eyes gazing into his. + +"It's--John Kars," she said soberly. Then in a moment came a +repetition. "Fancy. John Kars!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TWO MEN OF THE NORTH + +North, south, east, west. There was, perhaps, no better known name in +the wide northern wilderness than that of John Kars. In his buoyant +way he claimed for himself, at thirty-two, that he was the "oldest +inhabitant" of the northland. + +Nor was he without some justification. For, at the age of thirteen, +accompanying his father, he had formed one of the small band of gold +seekers who fought their way to the "placers" of Forty-mile Creek years +before the great Yukon rush. + +He was one of those who helped to open the gates of the country. His +child's muscles and courage had done their duty beside those of far +older men. They had taken their share in forcing the icy portals of a +land unknown, and terror-ridden. He had endured the agony of the first +great battle against the overwhelming legions of Nature. He had +survived, all unprepared and without experience. It was a struggle +such as none of those who came later were called upon to endure. For +all that has been told of the sufferings of the Yukon rush they were +incomparable with those which John Kars had been called upon to endure +at an age when the terror of it all might well have overwhelmed him. + +But he had done more than survive. Good fortune and sanity had been +his greatest assets. The first seemed to have been his all through. +Sanity only came to him at the cost of other men's experience. For all +his hardihood he was deeply human. The early temptations of Leaping +Horse had appealed to the virile youth in him. He had had his falls. +But there was something in the blood of the youth which quickly +convinced him of the folly of the life about him. So he, to use his +own expression, "quit the poultry ranch" and "hit the bank roll trail," +and good fortune followed hard behind him like a faithful spouse. + +He became rich. His wealth became a byword. And later, when, out of +disorder and vice, the city of Leaping Horse grew to capital +importance, he became surfeited with the accumulations of wealth which +rolled in upon him from his manifold interests. + +Then it was that the man which the Yukon world now knew suddenly +developed. He could have retired to the pleasant avenues of +civilization. He could have entered public life in any of the great +capitals of the world. But these things had no appeal for him. + +The battle of the trail had left a fever in his blood. He was smitten +with the disease of Ishmael. Then, before all, and above all, he +counted the northland his home. So, when everything the world could +yield him lay at his feet, the drear, silent north trail only knew him. +His interests in the golden world of Leaping Horse were left behind +him, while he satisfied his passion in the far hidden back countries +where man is a mere incident in the world's unbroken silences. + +Oh, yes, his quest was gold, frankly gold. But not in relation to +values. He sought gold for the joy of search, to provide excuse. He +sought gold for the romance of it, he sought it because adventure lay +in the track of virgin gold as it lies nowhere else. Besides, the +battle of it suited the man's hardihood. + +Once, to his philosopher friend, Dr. Bill Brudenell of Leaping Horse, +he said, "Life's just a shanty most every feller starts right in to set +up for himself. And I guess more than half of 'em couldn't set two +bricks right. It seems to me if you're going to make life a reasonable +proposition you need to start in from the beginning of things, and act +the way you see clearest. It's no use groping around in a fog just +because folks reckon it's up to you to act that way. If you can't set +two bricks right, then set one. Anyway, do the things you can do, and +don't kick because you can't do more. The trail I know. Gold I know. +The Yukon I know. Then what's the use in quittin' it fer something I +don't know, and don't care a cuss for anyway?" + +This was the man, simple, direct. Wealth meant nothing to him. It was +there. It sometimes seemed like snowing him under. He couldn't help +it. Life was all he wanted. The life he loved, the life which gave +him room in which to stretch his great body. The life which demanded +the play of his muscles of steel. The life which absorbed every mental +faculty in its simple preservation. He was, as Bill once said: "A +primitive, an elemental creature, a man destined for the altar of the +gods of the wilderness when the sands of his time ran out." + +What wonder then that Jessie Mowbray's eyes should shine with a light +such as only one man can inspire. + +Her delight was unrestrained as the flotilla drew near, and she +descried the familiar figure of its leader. Then came the ringing +greeting across the water. Nor could the manner of her response be +mistaken. Murray saw, he heard and understood. And so the fixity of +his smiling greeting which completely masked his feelings. + +John Kars' manner owed nothing to convention. But it was governed by a +sureness of touch, a perfect tact, and a great understanding of those +with whom he came into contact. To him man was simply man. Woman was +just woman. The latter claimed the last atom of his chivalrous regard +at all times. The former possessed only the distinction which his +qualities entitled him to. + +He grasped the warm, soft hand outheld to him as he leaped out of his +canoe. The girl's shining eyes looked up into his bronzed, clean-cut +features with the confidence of one who understands the big spirit +stirring behind them. She listened responsively to the simple greeting +which fell so naturally from his firm lips. + +"Say, it's good to see you all again. Home?" He glanced swiftly round +at the scene about them. "This is home, I guess." Then he laughed. +"The other," he went on, with a backward jerk of the head to indicate +Leaping Horse, whence he had just come, "why, the other's just a sort +of dumping ground for the waste left over--after home's finished with +things. Bill, here, don't feel that way. He guesses we're on an +unholy vacation with home at the other end. You can't get the same +sense out of different heads." + +He turned to Murray with a cordiality which was only less by reason of +the sex of its object. "And Murray, too. Well, say, it's worth while. +It surely is." + +The trader's response was all sufficient. But his smile contained no +added warmth, and his hand-shake lacked the grip it received. + +In five minutes John Kars had made his explanations. But they were +made to Jessie. Murray was left on the fringe of their talk. + +He told her in his rapid, easy fashion that he was out for the whole +open season. That he'd practically had to kidnap Bill from his beloved +Leaping Horse. That his old friend was just recovering from his +consequent grouch, and, anyway, folks mustn't expect anything more than +common civility from him as yet. He said that he hoped to make Fort +Wrigley on the Mackenzie River some time in the summer, and maybe even +Fort Simpson. But that would be the limit. By that time, he guessed +Bill would have mutinied and probably murdered him. He said he hoped +to appease the said Doctor with a good bag of game. But even that was +problematical, as Bill had never been known to hit anything smaller +than a haystack in his life. + +So he talked with the daughter of his old friend Allan Mowbray, knowing +of the man's murder by the Indians, but never by word or sign reminding +the girl of her loss. + +Meantime Bill Brudenell deliberately completed the work of +superintending the "snugging" of the canoes for the night. He heard +his friend's charges, and smiled his retorts with pointed sarcasm. And +Jessie understood, for she knew these two, and their great friendship. +And Dr. Bill--well, she regarded him as a sort of delightful uncle who +never told her of her faults, or recommended his own methods of +performing the difficult task of getting through life successfully. + +When all was ready they moved off the landing towards the Mission +clearing. + + +Ailsa Mowbray was preparing supper. The scones were nearly ready in +the oven, and she watched them with a skilful eye. + +She looked still older in her moments of solitude. The change in her +wrought by the last seven months must have been heart-breaking to those +who had not seen her since that dreadful night of tragedy. But her +spirit was unimpaired. There were her two children left, and a +merciful Providence had bestowed upon her a world of maternal devotion. +For all her grief, she had not been entirely robbed of that which made +life possible. Her husband lived again in the children he had blessed +her with. + +Had she so chosen she might have severed herself forever from the life +which had so deeply wounded her. Her fortune made it possible to seek +comfort in the heart of the world's great civilization. But the +thought of it never entered her simple head. She was a born housewife. +The love of her home, and its care, was part of her. That home which +had yielded her her greatest joys and her greatest trial. + +Sometimes the thought would obtrude that Jessie deserved something more +than the drear life of the northland. But the girl herself dispelled +these thoughts. Like her mother, she had no desire beyond the home she +had always known. + +When Jessie hurried into the spotless kitchen her mother glanced +quickly up from her cook-stove. + +"What is it?" she demanded, at the sight of the eager eyes and parted +lips. "You're----" She broke off with a smile. "There, child," she +added, "you don't need to tell it. Your face does that. John Kars has +come up the river." + +The girl flushed scarlet. Her eyes were horrified. + +"Why, mother," she cried dismayed, "am I so easy to read? Can--can +anybody read me like--you can?" + +The mother's eyes were very tender. + +"I don't believe John Kars can anyway," she said reassuringly. "You +see, he's a man. Is he coming along over?" + +Jessie's relief was as obvious as her momentary dismay. The flush of +shame faded from her pretty cheeks. Her eyes were again dancing with +delight. + +"Why, sure, mother," she cried. "He's coming right over--after they've +fixed things with Father Jose. I don't think they'll be to supper. +Dr. Bill's with him, of course. And say, aren't they just two dears? +To see them together, and hear their fool talk, you'd think them two +kids instead of two of the big men of the country. It must be good to +keep a heart so young all the time. I think, mother, they must be good +men. Real good men. I don't mean like Father Jose. But the sort who +do things square because they like square living. I--I wish they lived +here all the time. I--I don't know which I like best." + +"I do." + +The mother set the scones on the table and glanced over it with +approving eyes. The girl's protest came swiftly but playfully. + +"Be quiet, you mother dear," she cried, her ready blushes mounting +again. "Don't you dare to say--things. I----" + +The mother only smiled the more deeply. + +"Best go and round Alec up. Supper's ready." + +But the girl hesitated. + +"He's at the barns fixing his outfit with Keewin," she said. "He +reckons to break trail in a few days. Say, Murray's gone across to +Father Jose with them. Will I get him, too?" Then she added +thoughtfully, "Do you know, mother, I don't think Murray's glad to see +John Kars. He's sort of quiet with him around. I don't know. I don't +reckon he likes him. I wonder why?" + +The mother's eyes searched her daughter's face. Her smile must have +been full of meaning for any one less simple than the girl before her. + +"There's no accounting the way men feel for each other," she said at +last. "Maybe Murray guesses John Kars is butting into our trade. +Maybe he's anxious to keep the country to ourselves. You see, these +folks aren't traders, and we are." + +The girl became indignant at once. + +"But he's no right to feel that way," she cried. "The country's free. +It's big enough for us all. Besides, if John Kars isn't a trader, +where's the trouble? I think Murray's mean. That's all." + +The mother shook her head. + +"Best go and call the men-folk," she said, in her direct fashion. +"Murray can see to his likes and dislikes the same as he can see to +most things he's set on." Then she smiled. "Anyway, I don't suppose +it figgers any with you around. John Kars isn't likely to suffer from +it." + +Just for one instant the girl's eyes answered the mother's gentle +challenge. Then she went off firing her parting shot over her shoulder +as she vanished through the doorway. + +"I've always thought Murray mean--for--for all his fat smile. I--just +hate meanness." + +Ailsa Mowbray was startled. Nothing could have startled her more. In +all the years of their association with Murray she had never before +heard so direct an expression of dislike from either of her children. +It troubled her. She had not been blind to Alec's feelings. Ever +since the boy had grown to manhood she had known there had been +antagonism between them. She was never likely to forget the scene on +the night her husband's appeal for help reached her. But Jessie. + +She was disquieted. She was wondering, too. And, wondering, the +memory of her promise to Murray rose up threateningly before her. She +turned slowly back to the stove for no definite purpose, and, so +turning, she shook her head. + +Later, Jessie returned, the last sign of her ill-humor completely gone. +Behind her came the two men of her mother's household. And so the +evening meal progressed to its conclusion. + +Later still Father Jose and his two visitors foregathered in the +hospitable living-room, and, for the time at least, Ailsa Mowbray gave +no further thought to her disquiet, or to the appeal Murray had made to +her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY + +For a whole week Ailsa Mowbray was given no further opportunity of +dwelling upon the possibilities of the situation between Jessie and +Murray McTavish. John Kars pervaded the Mission with a personality too +buoyant to allow of lurking shadows. On the mother he had an effect +like the voice of hope urging her to a fuller appreciation of the life +about her, an even greater desire for the fulfilment of those +responsibilities which the passing of her husband had thrust upon her. +His great figure, his strong, reliant face, his decision of manner, all +combined to sweep any doubt from the path of the simple folk at St. +Agatha's Mission. + +The only person who escaped his cheering influence, perhaps, was Murray +McTavish. Father Jose yielded Kars a friendship and liking almost +equal to the friendship which had sent him to Leaping Horse in the +depths of winter on behalf of Allan Mowbray's widow. This man was a +rock upon which the old priest, for all his own strength of character, +was not ashamed to seek support. To Alec he was something of a hero in +all those things for which his youthful soul yearned. Was he not the +master of great wealth? Did he not live in Leaping Horse, where life +pulsated with a rush, and no lagging, sluggish stream of existence +could find a place? Then, too, the instinct of the trail which the +youth had inherited from his father, was not John Kars endowed with it +all? + +But the week of this man's stay had more meaning for Jessie than for +any one else. Her frank delight in his presence found no denial. +Every shadow was banished out of her life by it. Her days were +rendered doubly bright. Her nights were illuminated by happy dreams. +His kindness to her, his evident delight in her company, were sources +of unspeakable happiness. + +He had brought presents for them all, he had reserved the best and +costliest for Jessie. Yet no word of love passed his lips, no act of +his could have been interpreted as an expression of such by the most +jealous-minded. Nor had the girl any thought but of the delight of the +moments spent with him, and of the shadow his going must inevitably +leave behind. + +The mother watched. She understood. And, understanding, she dreaded +more than she admitted even to herself. She felt that her child would +awaken presently to the reality, and then--what then? Would John Kars +pass on? Would he come again, and again pass on? And Murray. Murray +was always in the back of her mind. + +The last day came. It was a day of labor and preparation at the +landing. Under the supervision of Kars and Bill the work went forward +to its completion, with a precision and care for detail which means +perhaps the difference between safety and disaster on the long trail. +Nothing was too small for the consideration of these men in their +understanding of the fierce wilderness which they had made their own. + +Their spirits were high. It was the care-free spirit which belongs to +the real adventurer. That spirit which alone can woo and win the +smiles of the wanton gods of the wilderness. The landing was alive +with activity. Father Jose found excuse for his presence there. Even +Ailsa Mowbray detached herself from the daily routine of her labors to +watch the work going forward. Nor was there a moment when a small +crowd of the Indian converts of the Mission were not assembled in the +hope that the great white hunter might be disposed to distribute at +least a portion of tobacco by way of largesse. Murray, too, found his +way thither. And his mood seemed to have improved. Perhaps it was the +knowledge of the going of these people on the morrow which stirred his +spirits to match their own. + +And Jessie? Jessie found every excuse she desired to add her presence +at the bank of the river. The day for her was all too short. For her +it was full of the excitement of departure, with the regret at the +going looming like a shadow and shutting out her sun. She concealed +nothing from herself, while her smile and happy laughter banished every +sign of all it really meant. + +So the day wore on till the last of the evening light found everything +ready for the morning's departure. All stores were bestowed under +their lashed coverings, and the canoes lay deep in the water. Then +came the evening festival planned by Ailsa in her hospitable home. A +homely supper, and a gathering of all the white folk of the post. It +was all so simple. But it was just such as these people understood and +appreciated. It was the outward sign of the profound bond which held +them all in a land that is eternally inhospitable. + +It was nearly midnight when the party broke up. Farewells were said +and the men departed. Jessie, herself, closed the heavy door upon the +last of them. Alec bade his mother and sister good-night, and betook +himself to his belated rest. Mother and daughter were left alone. + +The mother's knitting needles were still clicking busily as she sat +beside the great stove, whose warmth was a necessity in the chill of +the spring evenings. Jessie came slowly over and stood gazing down at +the fierce glow radiating beneath the iron door, where the damper had +been withdrawn. + +No word was spoken for some moments. Then a sound broke the quiet of +the room. It was the sound of a stifled sob, and the mother looked up +anxiously. + +"Why, child!" she cried, and sprang to her feet. + +The next moment her protecting arms were about the pretty figure of the +girl, and she drew her to her bosom, with a world of tender affection. + +For some moments Jessie struggled with her tears. The mother said no +word. It was the gentle hand stroking the girl's beautiful hair which +spoke for the lips which sympathy had rendered dumb. + +Then came the half-stifled confession which could no longer be denied. + +"Oh, mother, mother!" the girl cried, through her sobs. "I--I can't +help it. I--I love him, and--and he's gone." + + +Dr. Bill had gone on with Father Jose. To Murray's surprise, John Kars +expressed his intention of accompanying him up to the Fort, which was +the former's sleeping quarters. Murray was astonished. Nor was it a +companionship he in the least desired. The prospect even robbed him of +some of the satisfaction which the departure on the morrow inspired. +Still he was left with no choice. To refuse him on any pretext would +only be to show his hand, and bring into active expression all the +bitter feeling which lay smoldering behind his exterior of cordiality. + +He knew what John Kars meant to his hopes with regard to Jessie +Mowbray. He had admitted that he feared him. The past week had only +confirmed those fears beyond all question. He realized, surely enough, +that, whatever Kars' feelings, Jessie's were unmistakable. He knew +that time and opportunity must inevitably complete the destiny before +them. Just now it seemed to him that only something in the nature of a +miracle could help him. + +Reluctantly enough he led the way up to the grim old Fort. The path +lay through the woods, which only extended to the lower slopes of the +bald knoll upon which it stood. The moonless night made no difference +to him. He could have made the journey blindfolded. + +At the summit Murray led the way round to the gateway of the stockade, +and passed within. He was still speculating, as he had speculated the +whole way up, as to the purpose of this visit. He only saw in one +direction, at the moment, and that direction was the girl he desired +for wife. If she were to be the subject of their talk, well, he could +match any words of this man, whom he knew to be his rival. + +Inside the room, which served him as an office, Murray lit an oil lamp +on his desk. Then he set a chair for his visitor so that he should +face the light. Kars flung himself into it, while the trader took his +place before the desk, and tilted his swivel chair back at a +comfortable angle, his round smiling face cordially regarding his +companion. + +Kars bulked large in the light of the lamp. The chair under him was +completely hidden. He was of very great size and Murray could not help +but admire the muscular body, without a spare ounce of that burden of +fat under which he labored. Then the keen eyes under the strongly +marked brows. The well-shaped nose, so suggestive of the power +expressed in every line of his features. The clean-shaven lips and +chin, almost rugged in their suggestion of purpose. And above all the +curling dark hair, now bared by the removal of his beaver cap. + +Kars permitted not a moment's delay in announcing the purpose of his +visit. + +"I waited till now to have this talk, Murray, because--why, because I +don't think I could have helped things for you folks waking memories +before. I got to talk about Allan Mowbray, about the Bell River +neches. And I take it you're wisest on both subjects." + +His eyes were grave. Nor did Murray fail to observe the sternness +which gravity gave to the rest of his face. + +"I've had the story of these things as the trail knows it. An' as the +gossips of Leaping Horse figgered it out. But I don't reckon I need to +tell you Ananias didn't forget to shed his old wardrobe over the north +country gossips when he cashed in. Do you feel like saying some?" + +Murray's reply came without hesitation. + +"Why, sure," he replied. "All I know." + +Neither by look, nor tone, did his manner convey his dislike. His +smile was amiability itself. Yet under it his feelings were bitter. + +He stooped abruptly and groped in a small cupboard beside his desk. A +moment later he set a whisky bottle and two glasses in front of him, +and pushed one of the latter towards his visitor. Then he reached the +water carafe and set it beside them. + +"It's Scotch," he said invitingly. + +"Thanks." + +Kars helped himself and watered it down considerably. + +"It needs strong water in the stomach of the feller who's got to raise +the ghosts of Bell River. Gee, the thought makes me weaken." + +Murray's smile had vanished. He had by no means exaggerated his +feelings. The truth of his words was in his mysterious eyes. It was +in the eagerness of his action in raising the glass of spirit to his +lips. Kars watched him gulp down his drink thirstily. The sight of it +prepared him. He felt that he had done more than well in thus delaying +all reference to the murder of Allan Mowbray. If this were its effect +on Murray, what would it have been on Jessie, or her mother? + +The glasses were set back on the desk in silence. Kars had something +of the waiting attitude of a great watchful dog. He permitted no word +or action of his to urge the man before him. He wanted the story in +Murray's own way, and his own time. His own reasons for requesting it +were--his own. + +"It's an ugly story," Murray announced, his eyes regarding his +companion with a stare that passed through, and traveled far beyond +him. "I don't just see where to start." He stirred in his chair with +a nervous movement. "Allan was a pretty big man. I guess his nerve +was never really all out, even in this hellish country. It was as +strong as chilled steel. It was a nerve that left danger hollerin' +help. He didn't know fear--which isn't good in this land. You need to +know fear if you're to win out. There's times in this latitude you +need to be scared--badly scared--if you're to make good all the time." + +Kars nodded. + +"I'm scared most all the time." + +Murray's eyes became alert. A shadow of his smile returned to his +lips. It was gone again in a second. He replenished his glass and +produced cigars. Both men helped themselves, and, in a moment, the +fragrant smoke clouded about the globe of the oil lamp. + +"Allan was 'mushing' the long trail, same as he'd done years in the +open season," Murray said, drawing a deep sigh as he opened his story. +"I don't rightly know his itinerary. Y'see Allan had his trade secrets +which he didn't hand on to a soul. Not even his partner. But," he +leaned forward impressively, and Kars caught the full glow of his +earnest eyes, "Bell River wasn't on his schedule. We'd agreed to leave +it alone. It's fierce for a white man. It's been so years. The trade +there isn't worth the chances. He knew it. I knew it. We'd agreed to +cut it out." + +"But he went there--why?" + +Kars' question was the obvious one, and Murray's fleshy shoulders +answered it. He sat back in his chair moodily puffing at his cigar. +His eyes were on his desk. It was moments before he replied. + +At last he reached out and seizing his glass drank the contents at a +gulp. Then he leaned forward. His voice was deep. But his eyes were +steady and questioning. + +"That question'll never find its answer," he said. "Anyway he went +there. It was from there we got his call for help. It came by a +runner. It came to his wife. Not to me. He'd sent to me days before, +and it hadn't come through. Guess that call of his was a farewell to +his wife. The game must have been played when he wrote it, and I guess +he was wise to it. Say"--he sat back in his chair and pushed his fat +fingers through his hair--"it makes me sweat thinking of it." + +Kars' silent nod of sympathy was followed by a kindly warning. + +"Take your time." + +"Time?" A mirthless laugh responded to the caution. "It don't need +time. Anyway time's not calculated to make it easier. It's all right +before me now, set out as only the fiend-spawn of Bell River can set it +out." His tone deepened and he spoke more rapidly. "We got that call +in the evening. An hour after I was hot foot down the river with an +outfit of thirty neches, armed with an arsenal of weapons." His tone +grew. His eyes shone fiercely, and a deep passion seemed to stir him. +"Say, they reckon I can drive hard on the river. They reckon I've got +neither mercy, nor feeling when it comes to putting things through. I +proved all they said that trip. I drove those crews as if hades was on +our heels. I didn't spare them or myself. We made Bell River a day +under the time I figgered, and some of the boys were well-nigh dead. +Say, I guessed the clock hands were runnin' out the life of my big +friend, and--well, the life of my fellers didn't weigh an ounce in the +balance. But I was late. Late by a day." + +He broke off and dashed more whisky into his glass. He drank it down +neat. + +"Do you need more?" His eyes shone, and his voice rose. Then came his +mirthless laugh again. "Yes, best have it all. Oh, it's pretty. As +pretty as if demons had fixed it. We found him. What was left of him. +He was well-nigh hacked to dog meat, and around him were the bodies of +some of his boys. Oh, he'd put up an elegant scrap. He'd fought 'em +at something more than man for man. The Bell River dead lay about +round that bluff on the river bank in heaps. He'd fought 'em to the +last man, and I guess that was Allan. He'd fought 'em as Allan Mowbray +only knew how to fight. And he'd died as just he knew how to die. A +man." + +His voice ceased and in the silence John Kars drew a deep breath. A +great sympathy was stirring him. But he had no words to offer, and +presently the other went on. + +"We gathered him up, and the frost helped us. So we brought him right +along home. He's buried here inside this old stockade. His grave's +marked. Alec made the cross, I set it up. An' Jessie--why, Jessie +wrote some on it. That's all." + +Kars rose to his feet. His cigar was out. + +"Thanks," he said, with curious formality. + +Then he relit his cigar. He stood for a moment as though debating with +himself. Murray remained in his chair. Somehow his fat figure seemed +to have become huddled. His gaze, too, seemed to have only his +thoughts to dwell upon. + +At last Kars went on. + +"I didn't ask all this for any sort of curiosity," he said. "I asked +it because I need to know. I'm mushing a long trail myself this year, +an' I guess my way's likely taking me in the region of Bell River, +before I git back here next fall. Guess I've got that yellow streak a +feller needs to make good," he went on, his gravity thawing under a +shadowy smile. "And you figger Bell River's mighty unhealthy for a +white man about now." + +While the other was talking the last vestige of Murray's preoccupation +seemed to fall from him. He was alert. He rose from his chair. His +decision was full, and strong, and emphatic, when he replied. + +"Unhealthy? It don't say a thing. Avoid Bell River, or you'll regret +it. They're devils let loose. I tell you right here you'll need an +outfit of half a hundred to pass safe through that country. They got a +taste for white man's outfit now. Time was when they fancied only +neche scalps. It's not that way now. No, sir. I'm figgering now how +long we'll be safe here, in this Fort. There's just two hundred and +odd miles between us, and---- Say, when do you figger you're making +that way? Fall?" Kars nodded. "The time they got Allan. Don't do +it. I warn you solemnly. And I guess I--know." + +Murray's warning was delivered with urgency. There was no mistaking +its sincerity. He seemed to have risen above his antipathy for this +man. He seemed only concerned to save another from a disaster similar +to that which had befallen his partner. + +Kars thanked him and held out one powerful hand. + +"I'm obliged," he said, in a sober way as they gripped hands. "I've +had full warning, and, maybe, it's going to save me trouble. Anyway if +my way does take me around that region, and I get my medicine, well--I +guess it's up to me. Good-night, Murray. Thanks again. I'll be off +before you're around to-morrow morning. So long." + +Murray McTavish accompanied his visitor to the door. There was no more +to be said. His smile returned as he bade him farewell, and it +remained for a few moments as he stood till the night swallowed up the +departing figure. Then it died out suddenly, completely. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE MAN WITH THE SCAR + +Two men moved about slowly, deliberately. They were examining, with +the closest scrutiny, every object that might afford a clue to the +devastation about them. A third figure, in the distance, was engaged +similarly. He was dressed in the buckskin so dear to the Indian heart. +The others were white men. + +The scene was complete in horror. It was the incinerated ruins of a +recently destroyed Indian encampment, set in the shadow of a belt of +pine woods which mounted the abrupt slopes of a great hill. The woods +on the hillside were burnt out. Where had stood a dense stretch of +primordial woodland, now only the skeleton arms of the pines reached up +towards the heavens as though appealing despairingly for the vengeance +due to them. + +The day was gray. The air was still, so still. It reeked with the +taint of burning. It reeked with something else. There were bodies, +in varying stages of decomposition, lying about, many of them burned, +many of them half eaten by the wild scavengers of the region. All were +mutilated in a dreadful manner. And they were mostly the bodies of +women and children. + +Not a teepee remained standing. The mud walls of one or two huts still +stood up. But all of them that were destructible had been devoured by +hungry flames. + +After half an hour's search the two white men came to the edge of the +burnt-out forest. They paused, and John Kars' eyes searched amongst +the charred poles. Presently he shrugged his shoulders. + +"No use going up this way. We can't learn more than we've read right +here. It's the work of the Bell River outfit, sure. That's if the +things we've heard are true." He turned to his companion. "Say, Bill, +it makes you wonder. What 'bug' is it sets folk yearning to get out +and kill, and burn, all the time? Think of it. Just think if you and +me started right in to holler, an' shoot, an' burn. What would you +say? We're crazy, sure. Yet these folk aren't crazy. They're just +the same as they were born, I guess. They weren't born crazy, any more +than we were. It gets me beat. Beat to death." + +Bill Brudenell was overshadowed in stature by his friend. But his wit +was as keen. His mental faculties perhaps more mature. He might not +have been able to compete with John Kars in physical effort, but he +possessed a ripe philosophy, and a wonderful knowledge of human nature. + +"The craziest have motives," he said, with a whimsical smile in his +twinkling eyes. "I've often noticed that folk who act queer, and are +said to be crazy, and maybe get shut up in the foolish-house, generally +have an elegant reason of their own for acting the way they do. Maybe +other folks can't get it right. I once had to do with a case in which +a feller shot up his mother, and was made out 'bug,' and was put away. +It worried me some. Later I found his ma made his life miserable. He +lived in terror of her. She'd broken bottles over his head. She'd +soused him with boiling water. She'd raised the devil generally, +till--well, till he reached the limit. Then I found she acted that way +because her dandy boy was sparking around some tow-headed female, and +guessed he intended marrying her, and setting her to run the home his +mother had always run for him. There's some sort of reason to most +crazy acts. Guess we'll need to chase up the Bell River outfit if +we're looking for the reason to this craziness." + +"Yes." + +Bill turned away and picked up a stained and rusted hatchet of +obviously Indian make. He examined it closely. John Kars stared about +him with brooding eyes. + +"What do you think lies back of this?" he inquired presently. His +manner was abstracted, and his eyes were watching the movements of the +third figure in the distance. + +Bill glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. It was a swift, +speculating glance. Then he continued his examination of the hatchet, +while he talked. + +"Much of what lies back of most desperate acts," he said. "Guess the +Bell River folk have got something other folk need, and the other folk +know it. I allow the Bell River folk don't figger to hand over to +anybody. Maybe it's hunting grounds, maybe it's fishing. Can't say. +But you see this crowd are traveling Indians, or were," he added drily. +"We're within twenty miles of Bell River. If they were traveling, +which the remains of their teepees make them out to have been, then I +guess they weren't doing it for health. More than likely it was +robbery of some sort. Well, I guess they were up against a +proposition, and got it--plenty. It's going to snow. What are you +figgering?" + +Kars searched the gray skies. + +"We'll make Bell River." + +"I guessed you would. Maybe some folks would say it's you that's +crazy. Ask Peigan." + +Bill laughed. His clever face was always at its best when his +twinkling eyes, as it were, bubbled over. + +The men moved on towards their camp. + +The threat of the sky added to the gloomy nature of the crudely rugged +country. On every hand the hills rose mightily. Dark woodlands +crowded the lower slopes, but the sharply serrated crests, many of them +snow-clad, left a merciless impression upon the mind. The solitude of +it all, too, was overpowering. + +The long summer trail lay behind them, all its chances successfully +taken, all its many dangers surmounted. The threat of the sky was real +and they had no desire now to fall victims to a careless disregard of +ordinary climatic conditions. + +Kars' calculation had been carefully made. His plans were laid so that +they should reach the upper stream of the Snake River, where his river +depot had been established, and his canoes were awaiting them, with at +least three weeks to spare before the ice shut down all traffic. The +outfit would then have ample time in which to reach the shallows of +Peel River, whence the final stage of the journey to Leaping Horse +would be made overland on the early winter trail. + +Peigan Charley joined them at the camp. The man came up with that +curiously silent, almost furtive gait, which no prairie Indian, however +civilized, ever quite loses. It comes from long years of moccasin use, +and an habitual bent knee walk. Peigan Charley considered himself +unusually civilized. But it was for his native abilities that Kars +employed him. + +His broad, bronze face and dark eyes were quite without expression, for +all he had searched closely and probed deeply into the horrors of that +desperate camp. Perhaps he had no appreciation of horror. Perhaps he +saw nothing outrageous in the dreadful destruction. + +He was carrying a broken modern rifle in his hand, and with a word +promptly offered it to his chief. + +Kars took the weapon. He examined it closely while Bill looked on. +Then the white chief's eyes searched the Indian's face. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +The copper-hued expressionless features of the man underwent a change. +They became almost animated. But it was with a look of awe, or even +apprehension. + +"Him Bell River," he stated bluntly. + +"Yes." + +John Kars had learned all he wanted from the scout. His own opinion +was corroborated. So he handed the useless weapon back and pointed at +it. + +"Allan Mowbray's outfit," he said. "Bell River neche steal 'em." + +The scout nodded. + +The smell of cooking pervaded the camp. For some moments no one spoke. +Bill was watching his friend, waiting for that decision which he knew +had long since been taken. The Indian was silent, as was his habit, +and Kars appeared to be considering deeply. + +Presently he looked up at the sky. + +"That snow will be--rain," he said. "Wind's got south. We'll make Big +Butte to-night. Bell River to-morrow. Noon." + +Bill was observing the Indian. Peigan Charley's bovine stare changed +swiftly as the white chief whom he regarded above all men gave his +decision. Its stolidity had given way to incredulity, and Bill found +in it a source of amusement. + +Suddenly Charley thrust up one hand. The long, tawny fingers were +parted, and he counted off each one. + +"One, two, tree, four," he enumerated, bending each finger in turn. +"Him all big fool pack neche. No good. Plenty 'fraid. Plenty eat. +Oh, yes, plenty eat. One, two." Again he told off his fingers. "Good +neche. Fight plenty. Oh, yes. Peigan Charley." He held up one +finger. "Heap good feller," he commented solemnly. "Big Chief, boss. +Big Chief, Bill. Two." Again the inevitable fingers. "Shoot plenty +much. No good. Five hundred Bell River devils. Mush gun. Shoot bad. +Big Chief boss all kill up. Boss go Bell River. Boss crazy--sure." + +Bill was thoroughly enjoying himself. Nor did Kars resent his smiles. +He, too, laughed in spite of the Indian's growing concern. + +"We make Bell River to-morrow," he said finally. "See the boys get +busy with food. We mush in half an hour." + +The Indian had made his protest. There was nothing further to add. So +he went off and the white man watched him go. + +"Guess there'll be something doing around the camp when he gets amongst +the boys," Kars observed. Then he added, after a smiling pause, "That +feller thinks me crazy. Guess Murray McTavish would think that way, +too. Maybe that's how you're thinking. Maybe you're all right, and +I'm all wrong. I can't say. And I can't worry it out. Y'see, Bill, +my instinct needs to serve me, like your argument serves you. Only you +can't argue with instinct. The logic of things don't come handy to me, +and Euclid's a sort of fool puzzle anyway to a feller raised chasing +gold. There's just about three things worrying the back of my head +now. They've been worrying it all summer, worse than the skitters. +Maybe Bell River can answer them all. I don't know. Why are these +Bell River neches always shooting up their neighbors, and any one else? +How comes it Allan Mowbray died worth half a million dollars on a fur +trade? What was he doing on Bell River when he got killed?" + + +It was a wide flat stretch of grass, a miniature table-land, set high +up overlooking the broken territory of the Bell River forge. It was +bleak. A sharp breeze played across it with a chill bitterness which +suggested little enough mercy when winter reigned. It was an outlook +upon a world quite new to Bill. To John Kars the scene was by no means +familiar. + +These men gazed out with a profound interest not untouched by awe. +Their eyes sought in every direction, and no detail in the rugged +splendor was lost. For long minutes they stood silently reading the +pages of the new book opened to them. + +It was, in Kars' own words, a "fierce" country. It suggested something +like desperation in the Creator of it all. It seemed as though +imagination must have deserted Him, and He was left only with the +foundations, and the skeleton walls of a vast structure upon His hands. + +The horizon was approached by tier on tier of alternating glacier and +barren hill. What lay hidden in the hollows could only be conjectured. +In every direction, except the southeast, whence they had come, the +outlook was the same. Hills, and more hills. Glacial stretch, +followed by glacial stretch. Doubtless the hollows contained vast +primordial woods, and fiercely flooding mountain streams, scoring their +paths through wide stretches of miry tundra, quaking and treacherous. + +This was the distance, than which nothing could have been more +desolate. But the nearer view was their chief concern. + +The gorge yawned almost at their feet. It was tremendous, and its +vastness set the mind dizzy. Great circling patches of mist rose up +from below and added a sense of infinity to its depths. So wide. So +deep. The broad river in its bowels was reduced to something like a +trickling streamlet. The woodlands crowding the lower slopes, dim, +vague in the distance, became merely a deepening of the shadows below. +Forests of primordial immensity were lost in the overwhelming nature of +their setting. + +The air of sterility, in spite of the woodlands so far down below, in +spite of the attenuated grass on which they stood, inspired a profound +sense of repugnance. To the mind of Bill Brudenell, at least, it was a +land of hopelessness, a land of starvation and despair. + +He turned to his companion at last, and his voice rang with deep +feeling. + +"Fierce? Gee! There's not a word in the whole vocabulary of a white +man that gets nearer than ten miles of describing it," he exclaimed. +"And the neches, here, figger to scrap to hold it. Well, it certainly +needs attractions we can't locate from here." + +Kars nodded agreement. + +"That's how I've felt all through," he said. "Now? Why, now I'm dead +sure. This is where they murdered Jessie's father. Well, even a +railroad corporation couldn't advertise it a pleasure resort. We'd +best get right on down to the camp. I reckon to locate those +attractions before we're through." + +Leaving the plateau they passed down the seemingly endless slope. Bill +cursed the foothold, and blasphemed generally. Kars remained silent. +He was absorbed with the task he had set himself in approaching this +murder-haunted gorge. + +The return to the camp occupied the best part of an hour, and the +latter part of the journey was made through a belt of pine wood, the +timber of which left the human figure something so infinitesimal that +its passage was incapable of disturbing the abiding silence. The +scrunch of the springy carpet of needles and pine cones under heavily +shod feet was completely lost. The profoundness of the gloom was +tremendous. + +The camp suggested secrecy. It lay in the bowels of a hollow. The +hollow was crowded with spruce, a low, sparse-growing scrub, and +mosquitoes. Its approach was a defile which suggested a rift in the +hills at the back. Its exit was of a similar nature, except that it +followed the rocky bed of a trickling mountain stream. A mile or so +further on this gave on to the more gracious banks of the Bell River to +the west of the gorge. + +Kars had taken up a position upon some rolled blankets. He was +smoking, and meditating over the remains of a small fire. Bill was +stretched full-length upon the ground. His philosophic temperament +seemed to render him impervious to the attacking hordes of mosquitoes. +Beyond the hum of the flying pestilence the place was soundless. + +Near by the Indians were slumbering restfully. It is the nature of the +laboring Indian to slumber at every opportunity--slumber or eat. +Peigan Charley was different from these others of his race. But the +scout had long been absent from the camp on work that only the keenest +of his kind could accomplish successfully. Indian spying upon Indian +is like hunting the black panther. The difficulty is to decide which +is the hunter. + +Bill was drowsily watching a cloud of mosquitoes set into undue +commotion by the smoke from his pipe. But for all that his thoughts +were busy. + +"Guess Charley isn't likely to take fool chances?" he suggested after a +while. + +Kars shook his head at the fire. His action possessed all the decision +of conviction. + +"Charley's slim. He's a razor edge, I guess. He's got us all beaten +to death on his own play. He's got these murdering devils beaten +before they start." Then he turned, and a smile lit his steady eyes as +they encountered the regard of his friend. "It seems queer sending a +poor darn Indian to take a big chance while we sit around." + +Then he kicked the fire together as he went on. + +"But we're taking the real chance, I guess," he said, with a short +laugh. "If the Bell River outfit is all we reckon, then it's no sort +of gamble we made this camp without them getting wise." + +Bill sat up. + +"Then we certainly are taking the big chance." + +Kars laughed again. + +"Sure. And I'll be all broken up if we don't hear from 'em," he said. + +He knocked out his pipe and refilled it. Once during the operation he +paused and listened. + +"Y'see," he went on, after a while, "we're white folks." + +"That's how I've always heard. So was--Allan Mowbray." + +Kars picked up a hot coal from the fire, rolled it in the palm of his +hand, and dropped it on the bowl of his pipe. Once the pipe was lit he +shook it off again. + +"Allan got around here--many times," he said reflectively. "He wasn't +murdered on his first visit--nor his second. Allan's case isn't ours. +Not if I figger right." + +"How d'you figger?" + +"They'll try and hustle us. If I figger right they don't want folk +around--any folk. I don't think that's why they murdered Allan. There +was more to that. Seems to me we'll get a visit from a bunch of 'em. +Maybe they'll get around with some of the rifles they stole from Allan. +They'll squat right here on their haunches and tell us the things they +fancy, and---- Hello!" + +Kars broke off, but made no movement. He did not even turn his head +from his contemplative regard of the white ashes of the fire. There +was a sound. The sound of some one approaching through the trees. It +was the sound of a shod footstep. It was not the tread of moccasins. + +Bill eased himself. In doing so his revolver holster was swung round +to a handy position. But Kars never stirred a muscle. + +A moment later he spoke in a tone keyed a shade lower. + +"A feller wearing boots. It's only one--I wonder." + +Bill had risen to his feet. + +"My nerves aren't as steady as yours. I'm going to look," he announced. + +He moved off, and presently his voice came back to the man by the fire. + +"Ho, John! A visitor," he cried. + +The man at the fire replied cordially. + +"Bring him right along. Pleased to see him." + +But Kars had not moved from his seat. As he flung his reply back, he +glanced swiftly at the place where his own and Bill's rifles stood +leaning against the pale green foliage of a bush within reach of his +hand. Then, with elaborate nonchalance, he spread his hands out over +the smoldering ashes of the fire. + +A moment or two later he was gazing up smilingly into the face of a man +who was obviously a half-breed. + +The man was dressed in a beaded buckskin shirt under a pea-jacket of +doubtful age. It was worn and stained, as were the man's moleskin +trousers, which were tucked into long knee-boots which had once been +black. But the face held the white man's interest. It was of an olive +hue, and the eyes which looked out from beneath almost hairless brows +were coal black, and fierce, and narrow. A great scar split the skin +of his forehead almost completely across it. And beneath the +attenuated moustache another scar stretched from the corner of his +mouth half-way across his right cheek. Then, too, his Indian-like +black hair was unable to conceal the fact that half an ear was missing. +Nor did it take Kars a second to realize that the latter mutilation was +due to chewing by some adversary in a "rough and tumble" fight. + +The man's greeting came in the white man's tongue. Nor was it tinged +with the "pigeon" method of the Indian. It smacked of the gold city +which knows little enough of refinement amongst even its best classes. + +"Say, you boys are takin' all kinds of chances," he said, in a voice +that had little pleasantness of intonation. "I had some scare when I +see you come over the hills ther'. The darn neches bin out the way you +come, burnin', an' massacrin'. How you missed 'em beats me to death. +But I guess you did miss 'em?" he added significantly. "And I'm glad." + +Kars was only concerned with the information of the Indians' movements. + +"They're out?" he said. + +"Sure they're out." The man laughed. "They're out most all the time. +Gee, it's livin' with a cyclone playin' around you on this +God-forgotten river. But, say, you boys need to beat it, an' beat it +quick, if you want to git out with your hair on. They're crazy for +guns an' things. If they git their noses on your trail they'll git you +sure as death." + +The warning received less attention than it seemed to demand. + +Kars looked the half-breed squarely in the eyes. + +"Who are you?" he demanded. Abrupt as was the challenge the tone of it +had no roughness. + +"Louis Creal." + +"Belong here?" + +Kars' steady eyes were compelling. + +A flush of anger surged in the half-breed's mutilated cheeks. His eyes +snapped viciously. + +"This ain't a catechism, is it?" he cried hotly. Then in a moment he +moderated his tone. "Fellers on the 'inside' don't figger to hand +around their pedigrees--usual. Howsum, I allow I come right along to +pass you a friendly warning, which kind o' makes it reasonable to tell +you the things folk don't usually inquire north of 'sixty.' Yep. I +live around this river, an' hand the neches a bum sort o' trade fer +their wares. Guess I scratch a livin', if you can call it that way, up +here. But it don't figger any. My ma come of this tribe. I guess my +paw belonged to yours." + +"Where d'you get your goods for trade?" + +The sparkle of hasty temper grew again in the black depths of the +half-breed's eyes. The man's retort came roughly enough now. + +"What in----!" he cried. Then again he checked his fiery impulse. +"Say, that ain't no darn bizness of any one but me. Get me? It's a +fool question anyway. Ther's a dozen posts I could haul from. My +bizness ain't your bizness. I stand pat fer why I traipsed nigh two +miles to reach your darn fool camp. I handed you the trouble waitin' +around if you ain't wise. I guess you're wise now, an' if you don't +act quick it's up to you. If you've the savvee of a buck louse you'll +beat it good an' quick. You'll beat it as if the devil was chasin' you +plenty." + +Then it seemed as if urgency overcame his resentment, for he went on +with a sort of desperate eagerness. "Say, I ain't got your names, I +don't know a thing. I ain't no interest if you're alive, or hacked to +small chunks. But if you got any value fer your lives, if you've got +folks to worry fer you, why, git right out o' this just as fast as the +devil'll let you. That's all." + +"Thanks--we will." Kars had suddenly abandoned all his previous +assurance of manner. He seemed to be laboring under the influence of +the warning. "Guess we're kind of obliged to you. More than I can +say. Maybe you won't take amiss the things I asked. You see, finding +a white man in this region seemed sort of queer since they murdered +Allan Mowbray. I just had to ask." He turned to Bill, who was +watching him curiously. "We'll strike camp right away. Guess we best +get out west if the neches are southeast. Seems to me we're in a bad +fix anyway." Then he turned again to the half-breed. "Maybe you'll +stop around and take food? We'll eat before we strike." + +Kars' changed attitude seemed to please the half-breed. But he shook +his head with a smile that only rendered his expression the more crafty. + +"Nothin' doin' that way," he said decidedly. "Gee, no!" Then he added +confidentially: "I come two miles to give you warnin'. That's straight +across as the birds fly. I made nearer five gettin' here. Maybe +you'll get that when I tell you these devils have eyes everywhere. +Since they shot up Allan Mowbray I'm scared. Scared to death. I've +taken a big chance coming around. I ain't makin' it bigger stoppin' to +feed. An' if you'll take white advice you won't neither. Jest get to +it an' set all the darnation territory you ken find between you an' +Bell River before to-morrow. I quit. So long. I've handed you +warning. It's right up to you." + +He turned abruptly away and moved off. To the dullest it was obvious +he was anxious to escape further interrogation. And these men were not +dull. + +Bill followed him a few steps and stood watching his slim, lithe figure +vanish amongst the close-growing spruce. Kars, too, watched him go. +But he had not stirred out of his seat. They waited until the sound of +his footsteps had died out. Then Kars bestirred himself. He passed +from the camp to where his Indians were sleeping. When he returned +Bill was standing over the fire. + +"I've set a boy to trail him to the edge of the woods," he said. Then +he returned to his seat. + +Bill nodded. + +"Well?" + +Kars laughed. + +"An elegant outfit," he said with appreciation. "I guess he's more +scared of us than the Bell River devils. We're not to get the bunch of +neches I guessed." + +"No. He's a crook and--a bad one. When do we pull out?" + +Kars looked up. His eyes were steady and keen. His jaws were set +aggressively. + +"When I've nosed out the secret of this darned layout." + +"But----" + +"Say, Bill," Kars' manner became suddenly alive with enthusiasm, "we've +chased a thousand miles and more this summer, nosing, and scratching, +and worrying to find some of the secrets of this mighty big land. +We've sweated and cussed till even the flies and skitters must have +been ashamed. I figger we've lit right on top of a big secret here, +and--well, I don't fancy being bluffed out of it by any low-down bum of +a half-breed. That feller wants to be quit of us. He's bluffing. +We've hit the camp with the neches _out_. Do you get that? If they'd +bin around we wouldn't have seen any Louis Creal. We'd have had all +the lead poisoning the neches could have handed us. Wait till Charley +gets back." + + +Peigan Charley was squatting on his haunches holding out the palms of +his lean hands to the warming blaze of the fire. + +Darkness had shut down upon the gloomy world about them. The air was +chill. The fire was more than welcome. Kars was sitting adjacent to +his faithful servant, and Bill was on the other side of him. The +Indian was talking in a low voice, and in a deliberate fashion. + +"I mak him," he said, in his quaint, broken way. "Neche all out. Only +squaws, an' pappoose by the camp. Old men--yes. Him all by river. +Much squaws by river. Charley not come by river. No good. Charley +him look by camp. Him see much teepee, much shack. Oh, yes, plenty. +One big--plenty big--shack. Squaws mak go by shack. Him store. +Charley know. Yes, Breed man run him store. Charley, him see Breed +woman, too. All much plenty busy. So. Charley him come. Yes?" + +Kars smoked on for some silent moments. + +"You didn't risk the river?" he inquired presently. "Just where were +they working?" + +"No. Charley him all get kill up dead by river. No bush. No +nothing." He made a gesture that was unmistakable. Then he went on. +"Charley, him go up dis way." He pointed at the hill directly behind +him. "Him go up--up. Much walk, oh, yes. Then Charley, him go down. +Plenty big piece. Heap down. So. Come by river. Much bush. +Charley, him go on. Quiet. Oh, yes. Quiet--much quiet. Then no bush +any more. Big rock. High. Much high. Wide. Dis way." He spread +his arms out to their full extent, indicating the gorge. "Water so." +He narrowed his hands together. "Squaws, him plenty much work by +water. So." + +Again the men smoked on in silence. Bill made no comment at all. He +was looking to Kars. This was entirely Kars' affair. + +Presently Kars looked round. + +"Charley made good--very good," he said. "Charley good man." + +Then he looked across at Bill. He was smiling, and the light of the +fire made his smile queerly grim. + +"That's all I need, Bill," he said. "The rest I'll do myself. I'm +going to quit you for the time. Maybe I won't join you till nearly +morning. I can't say. I want you to strike camp right away. Get on +the move down to the river bank--above the gorge. Then follow it along +for a few miles. Maybe ten. Then wait around, and keep an eye wide. +Then send Charley back to wait for me on the river bank--just above the +gorge. Get that, Charley?" He turned to the Indian. "I need you to +know just where Boss Bill is waiting, so you can guide me." + +"Charley git him plenty. Charley him wait." + +"Good. You get it, Bill?" + +Bill nodded. + +"Right. Then I'll be moving." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SECRET OF THE GORGE + +Peigan Charley's belief in his white boss's lack of sanity was +characteristic of Indian regard for the reckless. The reason, the +driving power of his chief's character was lost to his primitive mind. +The act was all he had power to judge by, and the act of voluntarily +visiting the headquarters of the Bell River Indians said he was "crazy." + +But Kars was by no means "crazy," nor anything like it. He had a +definite purpose to fulfil, and, in consequence, all hazard was +ignored. The man's simple hardihood was the whole of him. He had been +bred in the rough lap of the four winds at his father's side. He would +have smothered under the breath of caution. + +He set out from the camp at the moment he had carefully selected. He +set out alone, without a thought for the chances of disaster which the +night might have for him. His eyes were alight with satisfaction, with +anticipation. Invincible determination inspired him as he faced the +hill which had served the Indian earlier in the day. He moved off with +a swing to his great body which said all that his lips had left +unspoken of the confidence which at all times supported him in the +battle with elemental forces. + +When he left the camp the blackness of the night had given way to the +jewel-studded velvet of a clearing sky. The spectre lights of the +north were already dancing their sombre measure. There was no moon. +These things all possessed their significance for him. + +The shadowy night light, however, only served him in the open, in the +breaks in the deep woodlands he must thread. For the rest his +woodcraft, even his instinct, must serve him. A general line of +direction was in his mind. On that alone he must seriously depend. +His difficulties were tremendous. They must have been insurmountable +for a man of lesser capacity. But the realization of difficulty was a +sense he seemed to lack. It was sufficient that a task lay before him +for the automatic effort to be forthcoming. + +He climbed the hill through endless aisles of straight-limbed timber. +His gait was rapid. His deep, regular breathing spoke of an effort +which cost him little. His muscles were as hard as the tree-trunks +with which he frequently collided. And so he came to the barren crest +where the fierce night wind bit deeply into the warm flesh. + +He only paused for his bearings. The stars and the dancing lights +yielded him the guidance he needed. He read these signs with the ease +of an experienced mariner. Then, crushing his soft beaver cap low down +over his ears, and buttoning his pea-jacket about his neck, he left the +bitter, wind-swept hilltop and plunged down the terrific slope, at the +far-off bottom of which lay the river, whose very name had cast a spell +of terror over the hearts of the people of the northland. + +Again he was swallowed up by the dark bowels of the woods, whose origin +went back to the days before man trod the earth. And curiously enough +a sensation of committing an intrusion stirred as the silence closed +down about him. A dark wall always seemed to confront him, a wall upon +which he was being precipitated. + +The steep of the decline was at times terrific. There were moments of +impact with trees which left him bruised and beaten. There were +moments when projecting roots threatened to hurl him headlong to +invisible depths. Each buffet, each stumble, however, only hardened +his resolve. These things were powerless to deter him. + +His descent of the approach to the gorge was a serious test. He felt +thankful at least that his plans called for no reascent of the hill +later. Twice he was precipitated into the bed of a spring "washout," +and, sore and angry, he was forced to a blind scramble from the moist, +soft bed. + +Once he only escaped with his life by a margin the breadth of a hair. +On this occasion he recovered himself with a laugh of something like +real amusement. But death had clutched at him with fierce intent. He +had plunged headlong over the edge of a chasm, hewn in the hillside by +a subsidence of the foundations some hundreds of feet below. Six feet +from the brink his great body had been caught in the arms of a bushy +tangle, which bent and crushed under his great weight in a perilous, +almost hopeless fashion. But he clung to the attenuated branches that +supported him and waited desperately for the further plunge below, +which the yielding roots seemed to make inevitable. + +But the waiting saved him. Had he struggled while the bush labored +under the shock, maybe his anticipations would have been fulfilled. As +it was the roots definitely held, and, cautiously, he was able to haul +himself up against the weed-grown wall of the precipice, and finally +obtain a foot and hand hold in its soil. The rest was a matter of +effort and nerve, and at last he clambered back to comparative safety. + +So the journey went on with varying fortune, his blind groping and +stumblings alternating with the starlit patches where the woods broke. +But it went on deliberately to the end with an inevitability which +revealed the man. + +At last he stood in the open with the frowning walls of the great gorge +far above him, like a giant mouth agape in a desperate yawn. At his +feet lay the river, flowing swiftly on to join the great Mackenzie in +its northward rush to swell the field of polar ice. + +Here, in the bowels of the great pit, he was no longer blinded by the +darkness, for, in the three hours of infinite effort he had expended, +the moon had risen, and its radiance shone down the length of the gorge +like some dull yellow search-light. The wood-lined walls were lit till +their conformation was vaguely discernible. The swift stream reflected +the yellow rays on the crests of its surging ripples. Then, far in, +beyond the mouth of the canyon, the long low foreshore stood out almost +plainly to his searching eyes. + +His task was only at its beginning. He waited just sufficiently long +to deliberate his next move. Then he set off, heading for the heart of +the gorge itself. + + +It was a scene of deep interest for eyes backed by understanding. + +A figure moved slowly about, searching here, probing there. It was a +figure suggesting secret investigation without a sign of real secrecy +in its movements. + +The foreshore of the river was wide, far wider than could have been +believed from the heights above. It sloped gradually to the water's +edge, and the soil was loose, gravelly, with a consistency that was +significant to the trained mind. But its greater interest lay in the +signs of intense labor that stood out on every hand. Operations, +crudely scientific, had been carried out to an extent that was almost +staggering. Here, in the heart of a low class Indian territory was the +touch of the white man. It was more than a touch. It was the impress +of his whole hand. + +The foreshore was honeycombed with shallow pits, shored, and timbered +with rough hewn timber. Against the mouth of each pit, and there were +dozens of them, a great pile of soil stood up like a giant beehive, +Some of these were in the process of formation. Some were completed, +and looked to have stood thus for many months. Some were in the +process of being demolished, and iron-wheeled trolleys on timbered +pathways stood about them, with the tools of the laborers remaining +just where they had been flung down when the day's work was finished. + +Each pit, each "dump" was narrowly scrutinized by the silent figure as +it moved from point to point. Even the examination extended to touch. +Again and again the soil was handled in an effort to test its quality. + +But the search extended beyond the "dumps" and pits. It revealed a +cutting hewn out of the great wall of the gorge. It was hewn at a +point well above the highest water level of the spring freshets. And +it was approached by a well timbered roadway of split green logs. + +The figure moved over to this, and, as it left the beehive "dumps," a +second figure replaced it. But whereas the first made no secret of its +movements, the second displayed all the furtive movements of the hunter. + +The cutting further revealed the guidance of the master mind. It was +occupied by a mountainous dump of the accumulated "dirt" from the +foreshore. It was built up, up, by a system of log pathways, till a +rough estimate suggested the accumulation of thousands upon thousands +of tons. + +What was the purpose of this storage? + +The question was answered by a glance in a fresh direction. Adjoining +the cutting stood an iron winch. It was a man-power winch, but it +worked an elevated cable trolley communicating with a trestle work +fifty yards away. + +Moving swiftly on towards the trestle work the man searched its length. +He peered up, far up the great hillside in the uncertain moonlight, +seeking the limits of its trailing outline in that direction. But its +ascent was gradual. It took the hill diagonally, and quickly lost +itself round a bend in the narrow roadway which had been hewn out of +the primordial forest. + +The end of this work in the other direction was far down on the +foreshore, stopping short of the water's edge by, perhaps, fifty yards. +It terminated at what was obviously a great mound of "tailings." + +The man moved down to this spot. As he paused by the mound, and gazed +up, the trestle work stood above him more than twice his own height. +Furthermore, here the skeleton work gave place to built-out platforms, +the purpose of which was obvious. A moment later his powerful hands +were gripping the massive stanchions, and he was clambering up to the +platforms. + +It was a simple enough task for a man of activity, and he swarmed up +with the rapidity of some great cat. He stood on the topmost platform, +and his gaze ran down the length of the structure. + +"A sluice-box and--conduit," he muttered. Then in a tone of deep +appreciation: "Gee, and it's fixed--good!" + +He bent down over the sluice-box, and groped with his hands over the +bottom of it. There was a trickle of water flowing gently in its +depths. He searched with his fingers along the riffles. And that +which he found there he carefully and laboriously collected, and drew +up out of the water. He placed the collected deposit in a colored +handkerchief, and again searched the riffles. He repeated the +operation again and again. Then, with great care he twisted up the +handkerchief and bestowed it in an inner pocket of his pea-jacket. + +After that he sat himself upon the edge of the sluice-box for some +thoughtful minutes, and his mind traveled back over many scenes and +incidents. But it dwelt chiefly upon Jessie Mowbray and her dead +father. And it struggled in a great effort to solve the riddle of the +man's death. + +But, in view of his discoveries, just now it was a riddle that +suggested far too many answers. Furthermore, to his mind, none of them +quite seemed to fit. There were two facts that stood out plainly in +his mind. Here, here was the source of Allan's wealth, and this was +the enterprise which in some way had contrived to leave Jessie Mowbray +fatherless. + +He sighed. A wave of intense pity swept over him. Nor was his pity +for the man who had kept his secret so profoundly all these years. It +was for the child, and the widow he had left behind. But more than all +it was for the child. + +It was with something like reluctance that he tore himself away from +the magic of the sluice-box. Once on the solid ground, however, he +again turned his eyes to gaze up at the structure. Then he laughed. +It was an audible expression of the joy of discovery. + +"What a 'strike'!" he said aloud. + +"An' one you ain't gettin' away with!" + +John Kars started. He half turned at the sound of the familiar voice. +But his intention remained incompleted. It may have been instinct. It +may have been that out of the corner of his eye he saw the white ring +of the muzzle of a revolver shining in the moonlight close against his +head. + +On the instant of the last sound of the man's voice he dropped. He +dropped like a stone. His movement came only the barest fraction of a +second before the crack of the revolver prefixed the whistle of the +bullet which spat itself deeply into the woodwork of the trestle. + +Thought and action ran a neck and neck race in Kars at all times. Now +it was never better exampled. His arms flung out as he dropped. And, +before a second pressure of the trigger could be accomplished, the man +behind the gun was caught, and thrown, and sprawled on the ground with +his intended victim uppermost. + +For Kars it was chiefly a struggle for possession of the gun. On his +assailant's part it was for the use of it upon his intended victim. + +Kars had felled the man by the weight and suddenness of his attack. He +had him by the body, and his own great bulk lay atop of him. But the +man's arms were free. There was a moment's desperate pause as they +fell, and it was that pause which robbed the gunman of his chance of +accomplishing the murder he had designed. Kars knew his man on the +instant. The voice was the voice of Louis Creal, the half-breed who +had warned him of the danger of Bell River. He could have laughed had +not the moment been too desperate. + +On the instant of impact with the ground Kars released his hold of the +man's body, and with catlike agility hurled himself at the man's +throat. With the threat of the revolver over him there remained only +one means of defence. He must paralyze all action even if he killed +the man under his hands. Physically his assailant was no match for +him, but the gun leveled things up. + +His great hands closed on the man's throat like a vice. It was a +strangle hold that knew no mercy. He reared his body up and his grip +tightened. The Breed struggled fiercely. He flung up his gun arm and +fired recklessly. The first shot flew high into the air but the scorch +of the fire stung the face of the man over him. A second shot came. +It cut its way through the thick muscles of Kars' neck. He winced +under its hot slither, but his grip only further tightened on the man's +throat. + +Then came collapse with hideous suddenness. With a choking gurgle the +Breed's arms dropped nervelessly to the ground and the revolver fell +from his relaxed grip. On the instant the white man released his hold. +He caught up the gun and flung it wide. + +He had won out. The cost to him did not matter. He stood up and gazed +down at the man on the ground. He was still--quite still. Then he +searched his own pockets for a handkerchief. The only one he possessed +had been set to precious use. He rejected it. So he bent over the +prostrate Breed and unfastened the colored handkerchief about his neck. +This he proceeded to fasten about the flesh wound in his own neck, for +the blood flowing from it was saturating his clothes. + +A moment later the half-breed stirred. It was what the white man had +awaited. The sight of the movement brought a sigh of relief. He was +glad he had not been forced to become the slayer of the man. + +Five minutes later the dazed half-breed seemed to awaken to realities. +He propped himself on his elbow, and, with his other hand, felt about +his throat, whilst his dark, evil face and beady eyes stared +malevolently up in the moonlight at the man standing over him. + +"Feeling better?" the white, man demanded coldly. + +As he received no answer he went on. + +"Guess you acted foolish trailing up so close on me. Maybe you were +scared you'd miss me in the dark? Anyway, you gave me a chance no real +gunman would have given. Guess you weren't more than a rabbit in my +hands. Say, can you swim? Ah, don't feel like talking," he added, as +the man still kept to his angry silence. "Anyway you'll need to. +You've got off mighty light. Maybe a bath won't come amiss." + +He bent down and before the Breed was aware of his intention he seized +him in his arms and picked him up much as he might have picked up some +small child. + +Then the struggle began afresh. But it was hopeless from the outset. +Louis Creal, unarmed, was powerless in the bear-like embrace of John +Kars. Struggling and cursing, the half-breed was borne to the water's +edge, held poised for a few seconds, then flung with all the strength +of the white man into the rapid waters of the Bell River. + +Kars only waited to see him rise to the surface. Then, as the man was +carried down on the swift tide, swimming strongly, he turned away with +a laugh and hurried from the scene. + + +John Kars halted abruptly in response to a whistle. The sound came +from the thick scrub with which the low bank of the river beyond the +gorge was deeply overgrown. It was a whistle he knew. It came low and +rose to a piercing crescendo. Then it died away to its original note. +His answer was verbal. + +"That you, Charley?" he demanded. + +His demand was answered by the abrupt appearance of the figure of his +faithful scout from within the bush. + +"Sure, Boss. Charley him wait. Charley him hear much shoot. Boss +kill 'em plenty good?" + +Kars laughed. + +"Not kill 'em," he said. "Half-breed wash 'em in river." + +"Boss no kill 'em?" The Indian's disappointment was pathetic. + +"No-o." + +Kars passed a hand wearily across his eyes. There was a drag, too, in +his negative. It was almost indifferent. + +But the display of weakness was instantly swept aside by an energy +which cost him more than he knew. + +"It don't matter anyway," he cried. "We need to make camp--we must +make it quick." + +There was irritation in his manner, as well as energy. But then his +neglected wound was causing him infinite pain, and the loss of blood +aggravated it by a feeling of utter weariness. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DR. BILL DISPENSES AID AND ARGUMENT + +The fire spluttered just beyond the door of the tent. Its cheerful +light supported the efforts of the kerosene lamp within. Peigan +Charley squatted over its friendly warmth, his lean hands outheld to +its flickering blaze in truly Indian fashion. His position had been +taken up with a view to observing his wounded chief, whose condition +concerned him more than anything else in the world, except it was, +perhaps, his delight in driving the men of his own color under him, and +his absolute contempt for his own race. + +John Kars was lying on his blankets, yielding to the skilful attention +of Dr. Bill. His final journey from the gorge to the camp, ten miles +distant, had been perhaps the greatest effort of the night. But with +Charley's help, with the dogged resolve of a spirit that did not +understand defeat, it had been finally achieved. + +His wound was by no means serious. He knew that. Charley believed, in +his simple mind, that his boss was practically a dead man. Hence his +watchful regard now. Kars' trouble was little more than loss of blood, +and though his tremendous physique had helped him, his weakness during +the last two miles of the journey had demanded all his resources to +overcome. + +The dressing was complete. The last stitches had been put in the +bandages about the wound. Bill closed his instrument case, and +returned the bottles of antiseptic drugs to the miniature chest he +carried. He sat down on the blankets which were spread out for his own +use, and smiled genially down at his patient. + +"That's that," he said cheerfully. "But it was a lucky get out for +you, John. Say, a shade to the left, and that Breed would have handed +you a jugular in two parts. Just take it easy. You'll travel +to-morrow, after a night's sleep. Guess you'll be all whole against we +make Fort Mowbray. You best talk now, an' get rid of it all. Maybe +you'll sleep a deal easier after." + +"Thanks, Bill." + +Kars' regard of his friend said far more than his simple words. But +then the friendship between these two was of a quality which required +little enough of verbal expression. It was the friendship of two men +who have shared infinite perils together, of two men whose lives are +bound up in loyalty to each other. + +For some moments the wounded man made no response to the invitation. A +pleasant lassitude was at work upon him. It seemed a pity to disturb +it by the effort of talk. But it was necessary to talk, and he knew +that this was so. There were thoughts and questions in his mind that +must have the well-balanced consideration of his friend's calm mind. + +At last he broke the silence with an expletive which expressed +something of the enthusiasm he really felt. + +"Gee, what a strike!" he said, in a voice much weaker than his usual +tone. Then he added as an afterthought, "The gorge is chock full of +color. Just git a holt on that handkerchief in my pea-jacket and open +it. Say, handle it easy." + +He watched the other search the pockets of the coat lying at the foot +of his blankets. A great light shone in his gray eyes as Bill produced +the handkerchief and began to unfold it. Then, with a raging +impatience, he waited while the deposit he had collected from the +riffles of the sluice-box was examined under the lamplight. + +At last Bill raised his eyes, and Kars read there all he wanted to know. + +"It's mostly color. There's biggish stuff amongst it." + +"That's how I figgered." Kars' tone was full of contentment. + +"Well?" + +Bill carefully refolded the handkerchief, and laid it beside his +medicine chest. + +Kars emitted a sound like a chuckle, + +"Oh, it was a bully play," he said. Then, after a moment: "Listen, +I'll tell it from the start." + +Kars talked, with occasional pauses, for nearly half an hour. He +detailed the events of the night in the barest outline, and only dealt +closely with the fact of the gold workings. These he explained with +the technicalities necessary between experts. He dwelt upon his +estimate of the quality of the auriferous deposits as he had been able +to make it in the darkness, and from his sense of touch. The final +story of his encounter with Louis Creal only seemed to afford him +amusement in the telling. + +"You see, Bill," he added, "that feller must have been sick to death. +I mean finding himself with just the squaws and the fossils left around +when we come along. His play was clear as daylight. He tried to scare +us like a brace of rabbits to be quit of us. It was our bull-headed +luck to hit the place right when we did. I mean finding the neches out +on a trail of murder instead of lying around their teepees." + +"Yes. But we're going to get them on our trail anyway." + +"Sure we are--when he's rounded 'em up." + +Bill produced his timepiece and studied it reflectively. + +"It's an hour past midnight," he said. "We'll need to be on the move +with daylight. We best hand them all the mileage we can make. We've +got to act bright." + +He sat lost in thought for some minutes, his watch still held in the +palm of his hand. He was thinking of the immediate rather than of the +significance of his friend's discovery. His cheerful face was grave. +He was calculating chances with all the care of a clear-thinking, +experienced brain. + +John Kars was thinking too. But the direction which absorbed him was +quite different. He was regarding his discovery in connection with +Fort Mowbray. + +At last he stirred restlessly. + +"I can't get it right!" he exclaimed. "I just can't." + +"How's that?" + +Bill's plans were complete. For a day or so he knew that his would be +the responsibility. Kars would have to take things easy. + +"What can't you get right?" he added. + +"Why, the whole darn play of it. That strike has been worked years, +I'd say. We've trailed this country with eyes and ears mighty wide. +Guess we haven't run into a thing about Bell River but what's darn +unpleasant. Years that's been waiting. Shrieking for us to get around +and help ourselves. Gee, I want to kick something." + +Bill regarded his friend with serious eyes. + +"You're going to butt in? You're going to play a hand in that--game?" + +Kars' eyes widened in surprise. + +"Sure." Then he added, "So are you." He smiled. + +Bill shook his head. + +"Not willingly--me," he said. + +"Why not?" + +Bill stretched himself out on his blankets. He was fully dressed. He +intended to pass the night that way. He clasped his hands behind his +neck, and his gaze was on the firelight beyond the door. + +"First, because it's taking a useless chance. You don't need it," he +said deliberately. "Second, because that was Allan Mowbray's strike. +It was his big secret that he'd worked most of his days for, and, in +the end, gave his life for. If we butt in there'll come a rush, and +you'll rob a widow and a young girl who've never done you injury. It +don't sound to me your way." + +"You think Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie know of it?" + +Bill glanced round quickly. + +"Mrs. Mowbray--sure." + +"Ah--not Jessie?" + +"Can't say. Maybe not. More than likely--not." + +"Alec?" + +Bill shook his head decidedly. + +"Not that boy." + +"Murray McTavish?" + +"He knows." + +Kars nodded agreement. + +"He knew when he was lying to me he didn't understand Allan visiting +Bell River," he said. + +Kars' eyes had become coldly contemplative. And in the brief silence +that followed, for all his intimate understanding of his friend, Bill +Brudenell was unable even to guess at the thoughts passing behind the +icy reserve which seemed to have settled upon him. + +But his questions found an answer much sooner than he expected. The +silence was broken by a short, hard laugh of something like +self-contempt. + +"You an' me, Bill. We're going up there with an outfit that knows all +about scrapping, and something about gold. We're going up there, and +d'you know why? Oh, not to rob a widow and orphan." He laughed again +in the same fashion. "Not a soul's got to know, or be wise to our +play," he went on. "The strike they've worked won't be touched by us. +We'll make our own. But for once gold isn't all we need. There's +something else. I tell you I can't rest till we find it. There's a +gal, Bill, on the Snake River, with eyes made to smile most all the +time. They did--till Allan Mowbray got done up. Well, I got a notion +they'll smile again some day, but it won't be till I've located just +how her father came by his end, after years of working with the Bell +River neches. I want to see those eyes smile, Bill. I want to see 'em +smile bad. Maybe you think me some fool man. I allow I'm wiser than +you guess. Maybe, even, I'm wiser than you, who've never yearned to +see a gal's eyes smiling into yours in all your forty-three years. +That's why we're going to butt in on that strike, and you're coming +right along with me if I have to yank you there by your mighty badly +fledged scalp." + +Bill had turned over on his side. His shrewd eyes were smiling. + +"Sounds like fever," he said, in his pleasant way. "I'll need to take +the patient's temperature. Say, John, you won't have to haul on my +scalp for any play like that. I'm in it--right up to my neck. That +I've lived to see the day John Kars talks of marrying makes me feel +I've not lived----" + +"He's not talking of marriage," came the swift retort with flushed +cheeks. + +"No. But he's thinking it. Which, in a man like John Kars, comes +pretty near meaning the same thing. Did you ask her, boy?" + +Just for a moment resentment lit the other's eyes. It was on his +tongue to make a sharp retort. But, under the deep, new emotion +stirring him, an emotion that made him rather crave for a sympathy +which, in all his strong life, he had never felt the necessity before, +the desire melted away. In place of it he yielded to a rush of +enthusiasm which surprised himself almost as much as it did his old +friend. + +"No, Bill." He laughed. "I--hadn't the nerve to. I don't know as +I'll ever have the nerve to. But I want that little gal bad. I want +her so bad I feel I could get right out an' trail around these +darnation hills, an' skitter holes, hollering 'help' like some mangy +coyote chasing up her young. Oh, I'm going to ask her. I'll have to +ask her, if I have to get you to hand me the dope to fix my nerve +right. And, say, if she hands me the G. B. for that bladder of +taller-fat, Murray, why I'll just pack my traps, and hit the trail for +Bell River, and I'll sit around and kill off every darned neche so she +can keep right on handing herself all the gold she needs till she's +sitting atop of a mountain of it, which is just about where I'd like to +set her with these two dirty hands." + +His eyes smiled as he held out his hands. But he went on at once. + +"Now you've got it all. And I guess we'll let it go at that. You and +me, we're going to set right out on this new play. There isn't going +to be a word handed to a soul at the Fort, or anywhere else. Not a +word. There's things behind Allan Mowbray's death we don't know. But +that dirty half-breed knows 'em, if we don't. And the gold on the +river has a big stake in the game. That being so, the folk Allan left +behind him are to be robbed. Follow it? It kind of seems to me the +folk at the Fort are helpless. But--but we aren't. So it's up to me, +seeing how I feel about that little gal." + +Kars had propped himself up under the effect of his rising excitement. +Now, as he finished speaking, he dropped back on his blankets with some +display of weariness. + +Bill's eyes were watching him closely. He was wondering how much of +this he would have heard had Kars been his usual, robust self. He did +not think he would have heard so much. + +He rose from his blankets. + +"I'm all in, boy, on this enterprise," he said, in his amiable way. +"Meanwhile I'm dousing this light. You'll sleep then." + +He blew out the lamp before the other could protest. + +"I'll just get a peek at the boys on watch. I need to fix things with +Charley for the start up to-morrow." + +He passed out of the tent crawling on his hands and knees. Nor did he +return till he felt sure that his patient was well asleep. + +Even then he did not seek his own blankets. For a moment he studied +his friend's breathing with all his professional skill alert. Then, +once more, he withdrew, and took his place at the camp-fire beside +Peigan Charley. + +The first sign of dawn saw the camp astir. Kars was accommodated with +one of the Alaskan ponies under pressure from Bill, as the doctor. The +whole outfit was on the move before daylight had matured. Neither the +scout, nor the two white men were deceived. Each knew that they were +not likely to make the headwaters of Snake River without molestation. + +How right they were was abundantly proved on the afternoon of the +second day. + +They were passing through a wide defile, with the hills on either side +of them rising to several hundreds of feet of dense forest. It was a +shorter route towards their objective, but more dangerous by reason of +the wide stretching tundra it was necessary to skirt. + +Half-way through this defile came the first sign. It came with the +distant crack of a rifle. Then the whistle of a speeding bullet, and +the final "spat" of it as it embedded itself in an adjacent tree-trunk. +Everybody understood. But it took Peigan Charley to sum up the +situation, and the feeling of, at least, the leaders of the outfit. + +"Fool neche!" he exclaimed, with a world of contemptuous regard flung +in the direction whence came the sound. "Shoot lak devil. Much shoot. +Plenty. Oh, yes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FALL TRADE + +The fall trade of the post was in full swing, and gave to the river, +and the approaches of the Fort, an air of activity such as it usually +lacked. Murray McTavish seemed to blossom under the pressure of the +work entailed. His good humor became intensified, and his smile +radiated upon the world about him. These times were the opportunity he +found for the display of his abounding energies. They were healthy +times, healthy for mind and body. To watch his activities was to +marvel that he still retained the grossness of figure he so deplored. + +A number of canoes were moored at the Mission landing. Others were +secured at piles driven into the banks of the river. These were the +boats of the Indians and half-breeds who came to trade their summer +harvest at the old post. A few days later and these same craft would +be speeding in the direction of distant homes, under the swift strokes +of the paddle, bearing a modicum of winter stores as a result of their +owner's traffic. + +And what a mixed trade it was. Furs. Rough dried pelts, ranging from +bear to fox, from seal to Alaskan sable. Furs of thirty or forty +descriptions, each with its definite market value, poured into the +Fort. The lucky pelt hunters were the men who brought black-fox, and +Alaskan sable, or a few odd seals from the uncontrolled hunting grounds +within the Arctic circle. These men departed with amply laden canoes, +with, amongst their more precious trophies, inferior modern rifles and +ammunition. + +But these voyageurs did not make up the full tally of the fall trade +which gave Murray so much joy. There were the men of the long trail. +The long, land trail. Men who came with their whole outfit of +belongings, women and children as well. They packed on foot, and on +ponies, and in weird vehicles of primitive manufacture, accompanied by +the dogs which would be needed for haulage should the winter snows +overtake them before they completed their return journey. + +These were of the lesser class trade. It was rare enough to obtain a +parcel of the more valuable pelts from these folk. But they not +infrequently brought small parcels of gold dust, which experience had +taught them the curious mind of the white man set such store by. + +Gold came in shyly, however, in the general trade. Indian methods were +far too primitive in procuring it. Besides which, for all the value of +it, traders in these remotenesses were apt to discourage its pursuit. +It was difficult to understand the psychology of the trader on the +subject. But no doubt he was largely influenced by the fear of a white +invasion of his territory, should the news of the gold trade leak out. +Maybe he argued that the stability of his legitimate trade was +preferable to the risks of competition which an influx of white folk +would bring. Anyway, open trade of this nature was certainly +comparatively discouraged. + +But Murray was not alone in the work of the fall trade. Ailsa Mowbray +supported him in a very definite share. She had returned to the work +of the store, such as she had undertaken in the days when her husband +was alive and Murray had not yet made his appearance upon the river. +Then, too, Alec had returned from his summer trail, his first real +adventure without the guiding hand of his father to direct him. He had +returned disillusioned. He had returned discontented. His summer bag +was incomparable with his effort. It was far below that of the average +river Indians. + +He went back to the store, to the work he disliked, without any +willingness, and only under the pressure of his perturbed mother and +sister. Furthermore, he quickly began to display signs of rebellion +against Murray McTavish's administration of affairs. + +Murray was considering this attitude just now. He was standing alone, +just within the gates of the Fort, and his meditative gaze was turned +upon a wonderful sunset which lit the distant heights of the outspread +glacial field with a myriad of varying tints. + +There had been words with Alec only a few minutes before. It was on +the subject of appraising values. Alec, in a careless, haphazard +fashion, had baled some inferior pelts with a number of very beautiful +foxes. Murray had discovered it by chance, and his words to the youth +had been sharply admonishing. + +Alec, tall as his father had been, muscular, bull-necked in his +youthful physical strength, bull-headed in his passionate impetuosity, +had flared up immoderately. + +"Then do it your darn self!" he cried, the hot blood surging to his +cheeks, and his handsome eyes aflame. "Maybe you think I'm hired man +in this layout, an' you can hand me any old dope you fancy. Well, I +tell you right here, you need to quit it. I don't stand for a thing +from you that way. You'll bale your own darn buys, or get the boys to +do it." + +With this parting the work of his day was terminated. He departed for +the Mission clearing, leaving Murray to digest his words at leisure. + +Murray was digesting them now. They were rankling. Bitterly rankling +in a memory which rarely forgot things. But his round, ample face +displayed no definite feeling other than that which its tendency +towards a smile suggested. + +His own work was finished. Though he would not have admitted it he was +tired, weary of the chaffer of it all. But his weariness was only the +result of a day's labor, mental and physical, from sunrise to sunset. + +The scene before him seemed to hold him. His big eyes never wavered +for a moment. There was something of the eagle in the manner in which +they stared unflinchingly at the radiant brilliancy of the western sky. + +He stood thus for a long time. He displayed no sign of wearying of his +contemplation. It was only an unusual sound which finally changed the +direction of his gaze. + +It was the soft shuffle of moccasined feet that reached his quick ears. +It was coming up from the wooded slopes below him, a direction which +came from the river, but not from the landing. His questioning eyes +searched closely the sharp cut, where the pine trees gave way to the +bald crown on which the Fort stood. And presently two figures loomed +out of the shadow of the woods, and paused at the edge of them. + +They were Indians in beaded buckskin, and each was laboring under a +burden of pelts which seemed unusually heavy for its size. They were +armed, too, with long rifles of a comparatively modern type. + +Some moments passed while they surveyed the figure at the gates. Then, +after the exchange of a few words between themselves, they came +steadily on towards the Fort. + +Murray waited. The men approached. Neither spoke until the men halted +in front of the trader and relieved themselves of their burdens. Then +it was that Murray spoke, and he spoke fluently in an Indian tongue. +The men responded in their brief spasmodic fashion. After which the +white man led the way into the store. + +The incident was one such as might have occurred any time during these +days of busy trading. There was certainly nothing peculiar about it in +its general outline. And yet there was a subtle suggestion of +something peculiar in it. Perhaps it was in the weight of the bales of +pelts these men carried. Perhaps it was that Murray had addressed them +in a definite Indian tongue first, without waiting to ascertain whence +they hailed, or to what small tribe they belonged. Perhaps it was the +lateness of the hour, and the chance that Murray should be waiting +there after the day's work was completed, when it was his eager custom +to seek his evening meal down at Ailsa Mowbray's home, and spend his +brief leisure in company of Alec's sister. + +It was nearly an hour before the two Indians reappeared. When they did +so the last of the splendid sunset had disappeared behind the distant +peaks. They left the Fort relieved of their goods, and bearing in +their hands certain bundles of trade. They hurried away down the slope +and vanished into the woods. And some minutes later the sound of the +dipping paddles came faintly up upon the still evening air. + +Murray had not yet reappeared. And it was still some time before his +bulky form was visible hurrying down the short cut to the Mission +clearing. + + +The evening meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house was more than half over when +Murray appeared. He bustled into the little family circle, radiating +good humor and friendliness. There could be no doubt of his apparent +mood. + +The comfort and homeliness of the atmosphere into which he plunged were +beyond words. The large room was well lit with good quality oil lamps, +whose warmth of light was mellow, and left sufficient shadow in the +remoter corners to rob the scene of any garishness. The stove was +roaring under its opened damper. The air smelt warm and good, and the +pungent odor of hot coffee was not without pleasure to the hungry man. + +Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie retained their seats at the amply filled table. +But Alec rose from his and departed without a word, or even a glance in +Murray's smiling direction. The rudeness, the petulance of his action! +These things left his mother and sister in suspense. + +But Murray took charge of the situation with a promptness and ease that +cleared what looked like the further gathering of storm-clouds. + +"Say, ma'am," he cried at once, "I just deserve all you feel like +saying, but don't say, anyway. Late? Why, I guess I'm nearly an hour +late. But I got hung up with some freight coming in just as I was +quitting. I'm real sorry. Maybe Jessie here's going to hand me some +words. That so, Jessie?" + +His smiling eyes sought the girl's with kindly good nature. But Jessie +did not respond. Her eyes were serious, and her mother came to her +rescue. + +"That doesn't matter a thing, Murray," she said, in her straightforward +fashion, as she poured out the man's coffee, while he took his seat +opposite Jessie. Then she glanced at the door through which Alec had +taken himself off. "But what's this with Alec? You've had words. +He's been telling us, and he seems mad about things, and--you. What's +the matter with the boy? What's the matter between you, anyway?" + +The man shrugged helplessly. Nor would his face mold itself into a +display of seriousness to match the two pairs of beautiful eyes +regarding him. + +"Why, I guess we had a few words," he said easily. "Maybe I was hasty. +Maybe he was. It don't figure anyway. And, seeing it's not Alec's way +to lie about things, I don't suppose there's need for me to tell you +the story of it. Y'see, ma'am, I ought to remember Alec's just a boy +full of high spirits, and that sort of thing, but, in the rush of work, +why, it isn't always easy. After supper I figger to get a yarn with +him and fix things up." + +Then he laughed with such a ring of genuineness that Jessie found +herself responding to it, and even her mother's eyes smiled. + +"I'm not easy when I'm on the jump. I guess nobody is, not even Alec." +Murray turned to Jessie. "It's queer folks act the way they do. Ever +see two cats play? They're the best of friends. They'll play an hour, +clawing and biting. Then in a second it's dead earnest. The fur you +could gather after that would stuff a--down pillow." + +Jessie's smile had vanished. She sighed. + +"But it's not that way with you two folk. The cats will be playing +around again in five minutes. Alec's up against you all the time. And +you?" + +Murray's smile still remained. + +"Alec's his father's son, I guess. His father was my best friend. His +mother and sister I hope and believe are that way, too." Then quite +suddenly his big eyes became almost painfully serious. The deep glow +in them shone out at those he was facing. "Say, I'm going to tell you +folks just how I feel about this thing. It kind of seems this is the +moment to talk clear out. Alec's trouble is the life here. I can see +it most every way. He's a good boy. He's got points I'd like to know +I possess. He's his father over again, without his father's +experience. Say, he's a blood colt that needs the horse-breaker of +Life, and, unless he gets it, all the fine points in him are going to +get blunted and useless, and there's things in him going to grow up and +queer him for life. He needs to think right, and we folks here can't +teach him that way. Not even Father Jose. There's jest one thing to +teach him, and that's Life itself--on his own. If I figger right he'll +flounder around. He'll hit snags. He'll get bumped, and, maybe, have +some nasty falls. But it's the only way for a boy of his spirit, +and--weakness." + +"Weakness?" + +Jessie's echo came sharply. She resented the charge with all a +sister's loyalty. But her mother took up her challenge. + +"I'm afraid Murray's right--in a way," she admitted, with a sigh. She +hated the admission, but she and her dead husband had long since +arrived at the same conclusion. "It worries me to think of," she went +on. "And it worries me to think of him out on the world--alone. I +wish I knew what's best. I've talked to Father Jose, and he agrees +with you, Murray. But----" + +For some moments Jessie had been thinking hard. She was angry with +Murray. She was almost angry with her mother. Now she looked over at +the man, and her pretty eyes had a challenge in them. + +"I'll go and ask Alec to come right along here," she said. "You can +talk to him here and now, Murray. Let him decide things for himself, +and you, mother, abide by them. You both guess he's a boy. He's not. +He's a man. And he's going to be a good man. There never was any good +in women trying to think for men, any more than men-folk can think for +women. And there's no use in Murray handing us these things when +Alec's not here." + +She started up from her seat. Her mother protested. + +"It'll make trouble, Jessie," she said sharply. "The boy's in no mood +for talk--with Murray," she added warningly. + +But Murray, himself, became the deciding factor. + +"Jessie's right, ma'am," he said quickly. + +And in those words he came nearer to the good-will he sought in the +girl than he had ever been before. + +"You'll talk to him as you've--said to us?" the mother demanded. + +Murray's smile was warmly affirmative. + +"I'll do all I know." + +Ailsa Mowbray was left without further protest. But she offered no +approval. Just for one second Jessie glanced in her mother's +direction. It was the girl in her seeking its final counsel from the +source towards which it always looked. But as none was forthcoming she +was left to the fact of Murray's acceptance of her challenge. + +She turned from the table and passed out of the room. + +Ailsa Mowbray raised a pair of handsome, troubled eyes to the factor's +face. Her confidence in this man was second only to the confidence she +had always had in her husband's judgment. + +"Do you think it wise?" she demurred. + +"It's the only thing, ma'am," Murray replied seriously. "Jessie's dead +right." He held up one fleshy hand and clenched it tightly. "Trouble +needs to be crushed like that--firmly. There's a whole heap of trouble +lying around in this thing. I've got to do the best for the folks +Allan left behind, ma'am, and in this I guess Jessie's shown me the +way. Do you feel you best step around while I talk to Alec? There's +liable to be awkward moments." + +The mother understood. She had no desire to pry into the methods of +men in their dealings with each other. She rose from the table and +passed into her kitchen beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ARRIVALS IN THE NIGHT + +Murray McTavish was standing before the glowing wood stove when Alec +entered the room. The factor was gazing down at the iron box of it +with his fat, strong hands outspread to the warmth. He was not cold. +He had no desire for the warmth. He was thinking. + +He was not a prepossessing figure. His clothing bulged in almost every +direction. In age this loses its ugliness. In a young man there is no +more painful disadvantage. His dark hair was smoothly brushed, almost +to sleekness. His clothing was good, and by no means characteristic of +the country. He was the epitome of a business man of civilization, +given, perhaps, to indulgence in the luxuries of the table. Nature had +acted unkindly by him. He knew it, and resented it with passionate +bitterness. + +Alec Mowbray displayed no hesitation. He entered the room quickly, and +in a truculent way, and closed the door with some sharpness behind him. +The action displayed his mood. And something of his character, too. + +Murray took him in from head to foot without appearing to observe him. +Nor was his regard untinged with envy. The youngster was over six feet +in height. In his way he was as handsome as his mother had been. +There was much of his dead father about him, too. But his eyes had +none of the steadiness of either of his parents. His mouth was soft, +and his chin was too pointed, and without the thrust of power. But for +all these things his looks were beyond question. His fair, crisply +curling hair, his handsome eyes, must have given him an appeal to +almost any woman. Murray felt that this was so. He envied him and---- +He looked definitely in the boy's direction in response to a rough +challenge. + +"Well--what is it?" + +Murray's shining eyes gazed steadily at him. The smile so usual to him +had been carefully set aside. It left his face almost expressionless +as he replied. + +"I want to tell you I'm sorry for--this afternoon. Darn sorry. I was +on the jump with work, and didn't pause to think. I hadn't the right +to act the way I did. And--well, I guess I'm real sorry. Will you +shake?" + +The boy was all impulse, and his impulses were untainted by anything +more serious than hot-headed resentment and momentary intolerance. +Much of his dislike of Murray was irresponsible instinct. He knew, in +his calmer moments, he had neither desire nor reason to dislike Murray. +Somehow the dislike had grown up with him, as sometimes a boy's dislike +of some one in authority over him grows up--without reason or +understanding. + +But Murray's amends were too deliberate and definite to fail to appeal +to all that was most generous and impulsive in Alec. It was impossible +for him to listen to a man like Murray, generously apologizing to him, +without going more than half-way to meet him. His face cleared of its +shadow. His hot eyes smiled, as many times Murray had seen his mother +smile. He came towards the stove with outstretched hand. A hand that +could crush like a vice. + +"Why, you just don't need to say another word, Murray," he exclaimed. +"And, anyway, I guess you were right. I'd slacked on those pelts and +knew it, and--and that's what made me mad--you lighting on it." + +The two men shook hands, and Alec, as he withdrew his, passed it across +his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. + +"But say, Murray," he went on, in a tone of friendliness that rarely +existed between them. "I'm sick. Sick to death with it all--and +that's about the whole of the trouble. It's no sort of good. I can't +even keep my mind on the work, let alone do it right. I hate the old +store. Guess I must get out. I need to feel I can breathe. I need to +live. Say, I feel like some darn cabbage setting around in the middle +of a patch. Jess doesn't understand. Mother doesn't. Sometimes I +kind of fancy Father Jose understands. But you know. You've lived in +the world. You've seen it all, and know it. Well, say, am I to be +kept around this forgotten land till my whiskers freeze into sloppy +icicles? I just can't do it. I've tried. Maybe you'll never know how +I've tried--because of mother, and Jess, and the old dad. Well, I've +quit now. I've got to get out a while, or--or things are going to +bust. Do you know how I feel? Do you get me? I'll be crazy with six +months more of this Fort, and these rotten neches. Gee! When I think +how John Kars has lived, and where he's lived, it gets me beat seeing +him hunting the long trail in these back lands." + +Murray's smile had returned. But it was encouraging and friendly, and +lacked all fixity. + +"Maybe the other life set him crazy, same as this is fixing you," he +said, with perfect amiability. + +The boy laughed incredulously. He flung himself into his mother's +chair, and looked up at Murray's face above the stove. + +"I don't believe that life could set folk crazy. There's too much to +it," he laughed. He went on a moment later with a warmth of enthusiasm +that must have been heart-breaking to those of greater experience. +"Think of a city," he cried, almost ecstatically. "A big, live city. +All lights at night, and all rushing in daylight. Men eager and +striving in competition. Meeting, and doing, and living. Women, +beautiful, and dressed like pictures, with never a thought but the joy +of life, and the luxury of it all. And these folk without a smell of +the dollars we possess. Folk without a difference from us. Think of +the houses, the shows, the railroads. The street cars. The sleighs. +The automobiles. The hotels. The dance halls. The--the--oh, gee, it +makes me sick to think of all I've missed and you've seen. I can't--I +just can't stand for it much longer." + +Murray nodded. + +"Guess I--understand." Then, in a moment, his eyes became serious, as +though some feeling stirred them that prompted a warning he was +powerless to withhold. "It's an elegant picture, the way you see it. +But it's not the only picture. The other picture comes later in life, +and if I tried to paint it for you I don't reckon you'd be able to see +it--till later in life. Anyway, a man needs to make his own +experience. Guess the world's all you see in it, sure. But there's a +whole heap in it you don't see--now. Say, and those things you don't +see are darn ugly. So ugly the time'll come you can't stand for 'em +any more than you can stand for the dozy life around here now. Those +folk you see in your dandy picture are wage slaves worshiping the gods +of this darned wilderness just as we are right here. Just as are all +the folks who come around this country, and I'd say there's many folks +hating all the things you fancy, as bad as you hate the life you've +been raised to right here. Still, I guess it's up to you." + +"I'd give a heap to have mother think that way," Alec responded with a +shade of moodiness. + +"She does think that way." + +The youngster sprang from his chair. His eyes were shining, and a +joyous flush mounted to his handsome brow. There was no mistaking the +reckless youth in him. + +"She does? Then--say, it's you who've persuaded her. There hasn't +been a day she hasn't tried to keep me right here, like--like some darn +kid. She figgers it's up to me to choose what I'll do?" he cried +incredulously. + +Murray nodded. His eyes were studying the youth closely. + +"Then I'll tell her right away." Alec laughed a whole-hearted, +care-free laugh. "I'll ask her for a stake, and then for Leaping +Horse. Maybe Seattle, and 'Frisco--New York! Murray, if you've done +this for me, I'm your slave for life. Say, I'd come near washing your +clothes for you, and I can't think of a thing lower. You'll back me +when I put it to her?" + +"There's no need. She'll do just as you say." + +Murray's moment of serious regard had passed. He was smiling his +inscrutable smile again. + +"When? When?" + +The eagerness of it. It was almost tragic. + +"Best go down with me," Murray said. "I'm making Leaping Horse early +this fall on the winter trail. I'm needing stocks. I'm needing arms +and stuff. How'd that fix you?" + +"Bully!" Then the boy laughed out of the joy of his heart. "But fix +it early. Fix it good and early." + +The exclamation came in such a tone that pity seemed the only emotion +for it to inspire. + +But Murray had finished. Whatever he felt there was no display of any +emotion in him. And pity the least of all. He crossed to the door +which opened into the kitchen. He opened it. In response to his call +Ailsa Mowbray appeared, followed by Jessie. + +Murray indicated Alec with a nod. + +"We're good friends again," he said. "We've acted like two school +kids, eh, Alec?" he added. "And now we've made it up. Alec figgers +he'd like to go down with me this fall to Leaping Horse, Seattle, +'Frisco, and maybe even New York. I told him I guessed you'd stake +him." + +The widowed mother did not reply at once. The aging face was turned in +the direction of the son who meant so much to her. Her eyes, so +handsome and steady, were wistful. They gazed into the joy-lit face of +her boy. She could not deny him. + +"Sure, Alec, dear. Just ask me what you need--if you must go." + +Jessie gazed from one to the other of the three people her life seemed +bound up with. Alec she loved but feared for, in her girlish wisdom. +Murray she did not understand. Her mother she loved with a devotion +redoubled since her father's murder. Moreover, she regarded her with +perfect trust in her wisdom. + +The change wrought by Murray in a few minutes, however, was too +startling for her. Their destinies almost seemed to be swayed by him. +It seemed to her alarming, and not without a vague suggestion of terror. + + +Father Jose was lounging over his own wood stove in the comfort of a +pair of felt slippers, his feet propped up on the seat of another chair. + +He was a quaint little figure in his black, unclerical suit, and the +warm cloth cap of a like hue drawn carefully over a wide expanse of +baldness which Nature had imposed upon him. His alert face, with its +eyes whose keenness was remarkable and whose color nearly matched the +fringe of gray hair still left to him, gave him an interest which +gained nothing from his surroundings in the simple life he lived. It +was a face of intellect, and gentle-heartedness. It was a face of +purpose, too. The purpose which urges the humbler devotee to a charity +which takes the form of human rather than mere spiritual help. + +Father Jose loved humanity because it was humanity. Creed and race +made no difference to him. It was his way to stand beside the stile of +Life ready to help any, and everybody, over it who needed his help. He +saw little beyond that. He concerned himself with no doctrine in the +process. Help--physical, moral. That was his creed. And every day of +his life he lived up to it. + +The habits of the white folk at St. Agatha Mission varied little enough +from day to day. It was the custom to foregather at Mrs. Mowbray's +home in the evening. After which, with unfailing regularity, Murray +McTavish was wont to join the little priest in his Mission House for a +few minutes before retiring for the night to his sleeping quarters up +at the Fort. + +It was eleven o'clock, and the two men were together now in the shanty +which served the priest as a home. + +It was a pathetic parody of all that home usually conveys. The comfort +of it was only the comfort radiating from the contentment of the owner +in it. Its structure was powerful to resist storm. Its furnishing was +that which the priest had been able to manufacture himself. But the +stove had been a present from Allan Mowbray. The walls were whitened +with a lime wash which disguised the primitive plaster filling in +between the lateral logs. There were some photographs pinned up to +help disguise other defects. There were odds and ends of bookshelves +hung about, all laden to the limit of their capacity with a library +which had been laboriously collected during the long life of Mission +work. Four rough chairs formed the seating accommodation. A table, +made with a great expenditure of labor, and covered with an old +blanket, served as a desk. Then, at the far end of the room, under a +cotton ceiling, to save them from the dust from the thatch above, stood +four trestle beds, each with ample blankets spread over it. Three of +these were for wayfarers, and the fourth, in emergency, for the same +purpose. Otherwise the fourth was Father Jose's own bed. Behind this +building, and opening out of it, was a kitchen. This was the entire +habitation of a man who had dedicated his life to the service of others. + +Murray was sitting at the other side of the stove and his bulky figure +was only partly visible to the priest from behind the stovepipe. Both +men were smoking their final pipe before retiring. The priest was +listening to the trader in that watchful manner of one deeply +interested. They were talking of Alec, and the prospects of the new +decision. Murray's thoughts were finding harsh expression. + +"Say, we're all between the devil and the deep sea," he said, with a +hard laugh. "The boy's only fit to be tied to a woman's strings. +That's how I see it. Just as I see the other side of it. He's got to +be allowed to make his own gait. If he doesn't, why--things are just +going to break some way." + +The priest nodded. He was troubled, and his trouble looked out of his +keen eyes. + +"Yes," he agreed. "And the devil's mostly in the deep waters, too. +It's devil all around." + +"Sure it is." Murray bent down to the stove and lit a twist of paper +for his pipe. "Do you know the thing that's going to happen? When we +get clear away from here, and that boy's pocket is filled with the +bills his ma has handed him, I'll have as much hold on him as he's +going to have on those dollars. If I butt in he'll send me to hell +quick. And if I don't feel like taking his dope lying down there'll be +something like murder done. If I'm any judge of boys, or men, that +kid's going to find every muck hole in Leaping Horse--and there's +some--and he's going to wallow in 'em till some one comes along and +hauls him clear of the filth. What he's going to be like after--why, +the thought makes me sweat! And Allan--Allan was my friend." + +"But--you advised his mother?" The priest's eyes were searching. + +Murray crushed his paper tight in his hand. + +"How'd you have done?" he demanded shortly. + +The priest weighed his words before replying. + +"The same as you," he said at last. "Life's full up of pot holes. We +can't learn to navigate right if we don't fall into some of them. I've +taught that boy from his first days. He's the makings of anything, in +a way. He can't be kept here. He's got to get out, and work off his +youthful insanity. Whatever comes of it, it won't be so bad as if he +stopped around. I think you've done the best." He sighed. "We must +hope, and watch, and--be ready to help when the signal comes. God +grant he comes to no----" + +He broke off and turned towards the heavy closed door of the shanty, in +response to a sharp knocking. In a moment he was on his feet as the +door was thrust open, and two familiar figures pushed their way in. + +"Why, John Kars, this is the best sight I've had in weeks," cried the +priest, with cordiality in every tone of his voice, and every feature +of his honest face. "And, Dr. Bill, too? This is fine. Come right +in." + +The Padre's cordiality found full reflection in his visitors' faces as +they wrung his hand. + +"It's been some hustle getting here," said Kars. "There wasn't a +chance sending on word. We made the landing, and came right along up. +Ha, Murray. Say, we're in luck." + +Both men shook hands with the factor, while the priest drew up the +other chairs to the stove, which he replenished with a fresh supply of +logs from the corner of the room. + +"But I guess we're birds of bad omen," Kars went on, addressing Murray +in particular. "The neches are out on Bell River, and they sniped us +right along down to within twenty miles of the Fort." + +"The Bell River neches within twenty miles of the Fort?" + +It was the priest who answered him. His question was full of alarm. +He was thinking of the women of the Mission, white as well as colored. + +Murray remained silent while Kars and Bill dropped wearily into the +chairs set for them. Then, as the great bulk of the man he disliked +settled itself, and he held out his chilled hands to the comforting +stove, his voice broke the silence which followed on the priest's +expression of alarm. + +"Best tell us it right away. We'll need to act quick," he said, his +eyes shining under the emotion stirring him. + +Kars looked across at the gross figure which suggested so little of the +man's real energy. His steady eyes were unreadable. His thoughts were +his own, masked as emphatically as any Indian chief's at a council. + +"They handed me this," he said, with a hard laugh, indicating the +bandage which still surrounded his neck, although his wound had almost +completely healed under the skilful treatment of Dr. Bill. "We hit +their trail nearly two days from Bell River. They'd massacred an +outfit of traveling Indians, and burnt their camp out. However, we +kept ahead of them, and made the headwaters of the river. But we +didn't shake 'em. Not by a sight. They hung on our trail, I guess, +for nearly three weeks. We lost 'em twenty miles back. That's all." + +Bill and the priest sat with eyes on Murray. The responsibility of the +post was his. Kars, too, seemed to be looking to the factor. + +Murray gave no outward sign for some moments. His dark eyes were +burning with the deep fires which belonged to them. He sat still. +Quite still. Then he spoke, and something of the force of the man rang +in his words. + +"We got the arms for an outfit. But I don't guess we got enough for +defence of the post. It can't come to that. We daren't let it. I'm +getting a big outfit up this fall. Meanwhile, we'll need to get busy." + +He pulled out his timepiece and studied it deliberately. Then he +closed its case with a snap and stood up. He looked down into Kars' +watchful eyes. + +"They're on the river? Twenty miles back?" + +His questions came sharply, and Kars nodded. + +"They're in big force?" + +Again Kars made a sign, but this time in the negative. + +"I don't think it," he said. + +"Right. I'll be on the trail in an hour." + +The factor turned to the Padre. + +"Say, just rouse out the boys while I get other things fixed. There +isn't a minute to waste." + +He waited for no reply, but turned at once to Kars and Bill. + +"Maybe you fellers'll keep your outfit right here. There's the +women-folk. It's in case of--accident?" + +"I'll join you, and leave Bill, here, with the Padre and the outfit." +Kars' suggestion came on the instant. + +But Murray vetoed it promptly. He shook his head. + +"It's up to me," he said curtly. Then he became more expansive. +"You've had yours. I'm looking for mine. I'm getting out for the sake +of the women-folk. That's why I'm asking you to stop right here. You +can't tell. Maybe they'll need all the help we can hand them. I've +always figgered on this play. Best act my way." + +There was something like a flicker of the eyelid as Kars acquiesced +with a nod. Except for that his rugged face was deadly serious. He +filled his pipe with a leisureliness which seemed incompatible with the +conditions of the moment. Bill seemed to be engrossed in the study of +the stove. Murray had turned to the Padre. + +"Not a word to the women. We don't need to scare them. This thing's +got to be fixed sudden and sharp." + +A moment later he was gone. + +The Padre was climbing into a heavy overcoat. The night was chill +enough, and the little missionary had more warmth in his heart than he +had in his blood channels. He moved across to the door to do his part +of the work, when Kars' voice arrested him. + +"Say, Padre," he cried, "don't feel worried too much. Murray'll fix +things." + +His eyes were smiling as the priest turned and looked into them. Bill +was smiling, too. + +"They _are_ twenty miles back--on the river?" + +The priest's demand was significant. The smiles of these men had +raised a doubt in his mind. + +"Sure." + +"Then--the position's bad." + +Bill Brudenell spoke for the first time. + +"The post and Mission's safe--anyway. Murray'll see to that." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FATHER JOSE PROBES + +It was a startled community that awoke next morning at Fort Mowbray. +The news was abroad at the earliest hour, and it reached Jessie Mowbray +in the kitchen, as she made her appearance to superintend the +preparation of breakfast. The Indian wench told her, with picturesque +embellishments, such as are reserved for the native tongue. Jessie +listened to the story of the descent of the Bell River Indians to the +region of the Fort with feelings no less disturbed than those of the +colored woman. They were no longer mistress and servant. They were +just two women confronting a common danger. + +But the news of the arrival of John Kars, wounded, swiftly overwhelmed +all other considerations in Jessie's mind. Breakfast was left in the +hands of the squaw while the girl hastened to her mother's room. + +Ailsa Mowbray listened to the girl's story with no outward signs of +fear. She had passed through the worst fires that could assail her a +year ago. Nothing the warlike Indians could threaten now could +reproduce the terror of that time. + +The story of it came in a rush. But it was not until Jessie told of +John Kars, and his wounded condition, that the real emotions of the +moment were revealed. She implored her mother to permit her to go at +once and minister to him, to learn the truth about his condition, to +hear, first hand, of the catastrophe that had happened. Nor did she +passively yield to her mother's kindly admonishment. + +"Why, child," she said, in her steady smiling way, "this country's +surely got right into your veins. You're like an unbroken colt. +You're as wild as any of those kiddies you figger to teach over at the +Mission. It's not for a child of mine to wait around on any man +living. Not even John Kars. Guess he's got Dr. Bill and Father Jose, +anyway. Maybe they'll get along over later." + +The girl flushed scarlet. + +"Oh, mother," she cried in distress, "don't--just don't think that way +of me. I--love him, and wouldn't help it if I could. But he's sick. +Maybe he's sick to death. Men--men can't fix sick folk. They +can't--sure." + +The mother looked into the girl's eyes with gentle tolerance, and a +certain amusement. + +"Not even Dr. Bill, who's had sick folk on his hands most all his +life?" she demanded. "Not even Jose, who's nursed half the kiddies at +the Mission one time or another?" She shook her head. "Besides, you +only know the things Susan's handed you out of her fool head. And when +Susan talks, truth isn't a circumstance. I wouldn't say but what John +Kars hasn't got shot up at all--till I see him." + +For all her easy manner she was troubled. And when Jessie had taken +herself back to the kitchen the ominous lines, which had gathered in +her face since her husband's murder, deepened. Distress looked out of +the eyes which gazed back at her out of her mirror as she stood before +it dressing her hair in the simple fashion of her life. + +Bell River! She had learned to hate and fear its very name. Her whole +destiny, the destiny of all belonging to her seemed to be bound up in +that fateful secret which had been her husband's, and to which she had +been only partially admitted. Somehow she felt that the day must come +when she would have to assert her position to Murray, and once and for +all break from under the evil spell of Bell River, which seemed to hang +over her life. + +But the shadow of it all lifted when later in the day John Kars and Dr. +Bill presented themselves. Kars' wound was almost completely healed, +and Jessie's delight knew no bounds. The mother reflected her +daughter's happiness, and she found herself able to listen to the story +of the adventures of these men without anything of the unease which had +at first assailed her. + +Their story was substantially that which had been told to Murray, and +it was told with a matter-of-fact indifference, and made light of, in +the strong tones of John Kars, on whom danger seemed to have so little +effect. As Mrs. Mowbray listened she realized something of the +strength of this man. The purpose in him. The absolute reliance with +which he dealt with events as they confronted him. And so her thoughts +passed on to the girl who loved him, and she wondered, and more than +ever saw the hopelessness of Murray's aspirations. + +The men took their departure, and, at Kars' invitation, Jessie went +with them to inspect their outfit. The mother was left gazing after +them from the open doorway. For all the aging since her husband's +death, she was still a handsome woman in her simple morning gown of a +bygone fashion. + +She watched the three as they moved away in the direction of the +woodland avenue, which, years ago, she had helped to clear. Her eyes +and thoughts were on the man, and the girl at his side. Bill had far +less place in them. + +She was thinking, and wondering, and hoping, as, perhaps, only a mother +can hope. And so engrossed was she that she did not observe the +approach of Father Jose, who came from the Indian camp amongst the +straight-limbed pine woods. It was only when the little man spoke that +she bestirred herself. + +"A swell pair, ma'am," he said, pausing beside the doorway, his keen +face smiling as his eyes followed the rapid gait of the girl striving +to keep pace with her companion's long strides. + +"You mean the men?" + +There was no self-consciousness in Ailsa Mowbray. The priest shook his +head. + +"Jessie and Kars." + +The woman's steady eyes regarded the priest for a moment. + +"I--wonder what you're--guessing." + +The priest's smile deepened. + +"That you'd sooner it was he than--Murray McTavish." + +The woman watched the departing figures as they passed out of view, +vanishing behind the cutting where the trees stopped short. + +"Is it to be--either of them?" + +"Sure." The man's reply came definitely. "But Murray hasn't a chance. +She'll marry Kars, or no one around this Mission." + +The woman sighed. + +"I promised Murray to--that his cause shouldn't suffer at my hands. +Murray's a straight man. His interests are ours. Maybe--it would be a +good thing." + +"Then he asked you?" + +The little priest's question came on the instant. And the glance +accompanying it was anxious. + +"Yes." + +For some moments no word passed between them. The woman was looking +back with regret at the time when Murray had appealed to her. Father +Jose was searching his heart to fortify his purpose. + +Finally he shook his white head. + +"Ma'am," he said seriously, "it's not good for older folks to seek to +fix these things for the young people who belong to them. Not even +mothers." Then his manner changed, and a sly, upward, smiling glance +was turned upon the woman's face above him. "I haven't a thing against +Murray. Nor have you. But I'd hate to see him marry Jessie. So would +you. I--I wonder why." + +The mother's reply came at once. It came with that curious brusqueness +which so many women use when forced to a reluctant admission. + +"That's so," she said. "I should hate it, too. I didn't want to say +it. I didn't want to admit it--even to myself. You've made me do +both, and--you've no right to. Murray was Allan's trusted friend and +partner. He's been our friend--my friend--right along. Why should I +hate the thought of him for Jessie? Can you tell me?" She shook her +head impatiently. "How could you? I couldn't tell myself." + +The shadow had deepened in Ailsa Mowbray's eyes. She knew she was +unjust. She knew she was going back on her given word. She despised +the thought. It was treachery. Yet she knew that both had become +definite in her mind from the moment when Jessie had involuntarily +confided her secret to her. + +Father Jose shook his head. + +"No. I can't tell you those things, ma'am," he said. "But I'm glad of +them. Very glad." + +He drew a deep breath as his gaze, abstracted, far off, was turned in +the direction where his Mission stood in all its pristine, makeshift +simplicity. The mother turned on him sharply as his quiet reply +reached her. + +"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you glad?" + +Her eyes were searching his clean-cut profile. She knew she was +seeking this man's considered judgment. She knew she was seeking to +probe the feeling and thought which prompted his approval, because of +her faith in him. + +"Because Jessie's worth a--better man." + +"Better?" + +"Surely." + +For all his prompt reply Father Jose remained searching the confines of +the woodland clearing in his curiously abstracted fashion. + +"You see, ma'am," he went on presently, helping himself to a pinch of +snuff, and shutting the box with a sharp slam, "goodness is just a +matter of degree. That's goodness as we folk of the earth understand +it. We see results. We don't see the motive. It's motive that counts +in all goodness. The man who lives straight, who acts straight when +temptation offers, may be no better than--than the man who falls for +evil. I once knew a _saint_ who was hanged by the neck because he +murdered a man. He gave his life, and intended to give it, for a poor +weak fellow creature who was being tortured out of her senses by a man +who was no better than a hound of Hell. That man was made of the same +stuff as John Kars, if I know him. I can't see Murray McTavish acting +that way. Yet I could see him act like the other feller--if it suited +him. Murray's good. Sure he's good. But John Kars is--better." + +The mother sighed. + +"I feel that way, too." Then in a moment her eyes lit with a subtle +apprehension, as though the man's words had planted a poison in her +heart that was rapidly spreading through her veins. "But there's +nothing wrong with Murray? I mean like--like you said." + +The little priest's smile was good to see. + +"Not a thing, ma'am," he said earnestly. "Murray's gold, so far as we +see. It's only that we see just what he wants us to see. Kars is +gold, too, but--you can see clear through Kars. That's all." + +The woman's apprehensions were allayed. But she knew that, where +Jessie was concerned, the little Padre had only put into words those +unspoken, almost unrealized feelings which had been hers all along. + +She moved out of the doorway. + +"Alec's up at the Fort. Maybe he's fretting I'm not up there to help." +She smiled. "Say, the boy's changed since--since he's to get his +vacation. He hasn't a word against Murray--now. And I'm glad. So +glad." + +The Padre had turned to go. He paused. + +"I'd be gladder if it was John Kars he was making the trail with," he +said, in his direct fashion. Then he smiled. "And at this moment +maybe Murray's risking his life for us." + +"Yes." + +The mother sighed. The disloyalty of their feelings seemed deplorable, +and it was the priest who came to her rescue. + +"But it can't be. That's all." + +"No. It would affront Murray." + +Father Jose nodded. + +"Murray mustn't be affronted--with so much depending on him." + +"No." Ailsa Mowbray's eyes lit with a shadow of a smile as she went +on. "I feel like--like a plotter. It's terrible." + +For answer Father Jose nodded. He had no word to offer to dispel the +woman's unease, so he hurried away without further spoken word between +them. + +Ailsa Mowbray turned toward the path through the woods at the foot of +the hill. As she made her way up towards the Fort her thoughts were +painfully busy. What, she asked herself, again and again, was the +thing that lay at the back of the little priest's mind? What--what was +the curious, nebulous instinct that was busy at the back of her own? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A MAN AND A MAID + +It was the second day after the arrival of John Kars and his outfit. +The noon meal at Ailsa Mowbray's house had been shared by the visitors. +The river was busy with the life of the post, mother and son had +returned to the Fort to continue their long day's work, and the +woodland paths approaching it were alive with a procession of those who +had wares to trade. It was a busy scene. And one which gave no hint +of any fear of the marauders whom Murray had gone to deal with. + +Besides John Kars' outfit at the landing a number of canoes were moored +along the river bank under the shadow of the gracious, dipping willows, +which had survived years of the break up of the spring ice and the +accompanying freshet. Indians and half-breeds lounged and smoked, +squatting around regardless of the hours which had small enough meaning +for them at any time. Just now contentment reigned in their savage +hearts. Each hour of their lives contained only its own troubles. + +It was the most pleasant time of the northern year. The spring dangers +on the river were past. The chill nights had long since sealed up the +summer wounds in the great glacier. As yet the summer heat of the +earth still shed its beneficent influence on the temperature of the +air. And, greatest blessing of all, the flies and mosquitoes were +rapidly abating their attacks, and the gaps in their ranks were +increasing with every frosty night that passed. + +The fall tints in the woods were ablaze on every hand. The dark green +of the pine woods kept the character of the northland weird. The +vegetation of deciduous habit had assumed its clothing of russet and +brown, whilst the scarlet of the dying maple lit up the darkening +background with its splendid flare, so like the blaze of a setting sun. + +Only the northland man can really appreciate the last weeks before the +merciless northern winter shuts him in. The hope inspired by the +turbulent spring speaks to him but of the delight of the season to +come. Far too often do the summer storms weight down his spirit to +make the height of the open season his time of festival. Those are the +days of labor. Fierce labor, in preparation for the dark hours of +winter. The days of early fall are the days in which he can look on +labor accomplished, and forward, with confidence, to security under +stress, and even a certain comfort. + +Dr. Bill had been left at the landing with the canoes, and Peigan +Charley, and the pack Indians. The girl and the man were wandering +along the woodland bank, talking the talk of those whose years, for the +greater part, lay still before them, and finding joy in the simple fact +of the life which moved about them. No threat of the Indians which +Murray had gone to encounter on their behalf could cast a shadow over +their mood. They were full to the brim of strong young life, when the +world is gold tinted, a reflection of their own virile youth. + +They had come to a broad ditch which contained in its depths the narrow +trickle of a miniature cascade, pouring down from some spring on the +hillside, whereon the old Fort stood. It was absurdly wide for the +trifling watercourse it now disgorged upon the river. But then, in +spring the whole character of it was changed. In spring it was a +rushing torrent, fed by the melting snows, and tearing out its banks in +a wild, rebellious effort against all restraint. + +Just now its marshy bed was beyond Jessie's powers to negotiate. They +stood looking across it at the inviting shades of an avenue of heavy +red willows, with its winding alley of tawny grass fringing the stately +pine woods, whose depths suggested the chastened aisles of some +mediaeval cathedral. + +To the disappointed girl all further progress in that direction seemed +hopeless, and Kars stood watching the play of her feelings in the +expression of the mobile features he had learned to dream about on the +long trail. His steady eyes were smiling happily. Even the +roughnesses of his rugged face seemed to have softened under the +influence of his new feelings. His heavy, thrusting jaw had lost +something of the grim setting it wore upon the trail. His brows had +lost their hard depression, and the smile in his eyes lit up the whole +of his face with a transparent frankness and delight. Just now he was +a perfect illustration of the man Father Jose beheld in him. + +He pointed across the waterway. + +"Kind of seems a pity," he said, with a tantalizing suggestion in his +smiling eyes. "Git a peek under those shady willows. The grass, too. +We don't get a heap of grass north of 'sixty.' Then the sun's getting +in amongst those branches. An' we need to turn right around back. +Seems a pity." + +The girl withdrew her gaze from the scene. Her eyes smiled up into +his. They were so softly gray. So full of trusting delight. + +"What can we do?" she asked, a woman looking for guidance from the one +man. + +"Do?" + +Kars laughed. He flung out a hand. He was not thinking of what he +purposed. The magic of Jessie's personality held him. Her tall +gracious figure. Its exquisite modeling. The full rounded shoulders, +their contours unconcealed by the light jacket she was wearing. Her +neck, soft with the gentle fulness of youth. The masses of ruddy brown +hair coiled on her bare head without any of the artificiality of the +women he encountered in Leaping Horse. The delicate complexion of her +oval cheeks, untouched by the fierce climate in which she lived. To +him she had become a perfect picture of womanhood. + +The girl laid her small hand in his with all the confidence of a child. +The warm pressure, as his fingers closed over it, thrilled her. +Without a word of protest she submitted to his lead. They clambered +down to the water's edge. + +In a moment she was lifted off her feet. She felt herself borne high +above the little gurgling cascade. Then she became aware of the +splashing feet under her. Then of a sinking sensation, as the man +waded almost knee-deep in mud. There were moments of alarmed suspense. +Then she found herself standing on the opposite bank, with the man +dripping at her side. + +Of the two courses open to her she chose the better. + +She laughed happily. Perhaps the choice was forced on her, for John +Kars' eyes were so full of laughter that the infection became +overwhelming. + +"You--you should have told me," she exclaimed censoriously. + +But the man shook his head. + +"Guess you'd have--refused." + +"I certainly should." + +But the girl's eyes denied her words. + +"Then we'd have gone around back, and you'd have been disappointed. I +couldn't stand for your being disappointed. Say----" The man paused. +His eyes were searching the sunlit avenue ahead, where the drooping +willow branches hung like floral stalactites in a cavern of ripe +foliage. "It's queer how folks'll cut out the things they're yearning +for because other folks are yearning to hand 'em on to them." + +"No girl likes to be picked up, and--and thrown around like some ball +game, because a man's got the muscles of a giant," Jessie declared with +spirit. + +"No. It's kind of making out he's superior to her, when he isn't. +Say, you don't figger I meant that way?" + +There was anxiety in the final question for all the accompanying smile. + +In a moment Jessie was all regret. + +"I didn't have time to think," she said, "and anyway I wouldn't have +figgered that way. And--and I'd hate a man who couldn't do things when +it was up to him. You'd stand no sort of chance on the northern trail +if you couldn't do things. You'd have been feeding the coyotes years +back, else." + +"Yes, and I'd hate to be feeding the coyotes on any trail." + +They were moving down the winding woodland alley. They brushed their +way through the delicate overhanging foliage. The dank scent of the +place was seductive. It was intoxicating with an atmosphere such as +lovers are powerless to resist. The murmur of the river came to them +on the one hand, and the silence of the pine woods, on the other, lent +a slumberous atmosphere to the whole place. + +Jessie laughed. To her the thought seemed ridiculous. + +"If the stories are true I guess it would be a mighty brave coyote +would come near you--dead," she said. Then of a sudden the happy light +died out of her eyes. "But--but--you nearly did--pass over. The Bell +River neches nearly had your scalp." + +It was the man's turn to laugh. He shook his head, + +"Don't worry a thing that way," he said. + +But the girl's smile did not so readily return. She eyed the ominous +bandage which was still about his neck, and there was plain anxiety in +her pretty eyes. + +"How was it?" she demanded. "A--a chance shot?" + +"A chance shot." + +The man's reply came with a brevity that left Jessie wondering. It +left her feeling that he had no desire to talk of his injury. And so +it left her silent. + +They wandered on, and finally it was Kars who broke the silence. + +"Say, I guess you feel I ought to hand you the story of it," he said. +"I don't mean you're asking out of curiosity. But we folks of the +north feel we need to hold up no secrets which could help others to +steer a safe course in a land of danger. But this thing don't need +talking about--yet. I got this getting too near around Bell River. +Well, I'm going to get nearer still." He smiled. "Guess I've been hit +on one cheek, and I'm going to turn 'em the other. It'll be a dandy +play seeing 'em try to hit that." + +"You're--you're going to Bell River--deliberately?" + +The girl's tone was full of real alarm. + +"Sure. Next year." + +"But--oh, it's mad--it's craziness." + +The terror of Bell River was deep in Jessie's heart. Hers was the +terror of the helpless who have heard in the far distance but seen the +results. Kars understood. He laughed easily. + +"Sure it's--crazy. But," his smiling eyes were gazing down into the +anxious depths the girl had turned up to him, "every feller who makes +the northern trail needs to be crazy some way. Guess I'm no saner than +the others. It's a craziness that sets me chasing down Nature's +secrets till I locate 'em right. Sometimes they aren't just Nature's +secrets. Anyway it don't figger a heap. Just now I'm curious to know +why some feller, who hadn't a thing to do with Nature beyond his shape, +fancied handing it me plumb in the neck. Maybe it'll take me all next +summer finding it out. But I'm going to find it out--sure." + +The easy confidence of the man robbed his intention of half its terror +for the girl. Her anxiety melted, and she smiled at his manner of +stating his case. + +"I wonder how it comes you men-folk so love the trail," she said. "I +don't suppose it's all for profit--anyway not with you. Is it +adventure? No. It's not all adventure either. It's just dead +hardship half the time. Yes--it's a sort of craziness. Say, how does +it feel to be crazy that way?" + +"Feel? That's some proposition." Kars' face lit with amusement as he +pondered the question. "Say, ever skip out of school at the Mission, +and make a camp in the woods?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"Ah, then that won't help us any," Kars demurred, his eyes dwelling on +the ruddy brown of the girl's chestnut hair. "What about a swell party +after three days of chores in the house, when a blizzard's blowing?" + +"That doesn't seem like any craziness," the girl protested. + +"No, I guess not." + +Kars searched again for a fresh simile. + +"Say, how'd you feel if you'd never seen a flower, or green grass, or +woods, and rivers, and mountains?" he suddenly demanded. "How'd you +feel if you'd lived in a prison most all your life, and never felt your +lungs take in a big dose of God's pure air, or stretched the strong +elastic of the muscles your parents gave you? How'd you feel if you'd +read and read all about the wonderful things of Nature, and never seen +them, and then, all of a sudden, you found yourself out in a world full +of trees, and flowers, and mountains, and woods, and skitters, and +neches, and air--God's pure air, and with muscles so strong you could +take a ten foot jump, and all the wonderful things you'd read about +going on around you, such as fighting, murdering, and bugs and things, +and folks who figger they're every sort of fellers, and aren't, +and--and all that? Say, wouldn't you feel crazy? Wouldn't you feel +you wanted to take it all in your arms, and, and just love it to death?" + +"Maybe--for a while." + +The girl's eyes were smiling provocatively. She loved to hear him +talk. The strong rich tones of his voice in the quiet of the woodland +gave her a sense of possession of him. + +She went on. + +"After, I guess I'd be yearning for the big wood stove, and a rocker, +with elegant cushions, and the sort of food you can't cook over a +camp-fire." + +Kars shook his head. + +"Maybe you'd fancy feeling those things were behind you on the day your +joints began aching, and your breath gets as short as a locomotive on +an up grade. When the blood's running hot there's things on the trail +get right into it. Maybe it's because of the things they set into a +man when he first stubbed his toes kicking against this old earth; when +they told him he'd need to git busy fixing himself a stone club a size +bigger than the other feller's; and that if he didn't use it quicker, +and harder, he'd likely get his head dinged so his brain box wouldn't +work right and he wouldn't be able to rec'nize the coyotes when they +came along to pick his bones clean. You can't explain a thing of the +craziness in men's blood when they come up with the Nature they belong +to. It's the thing that sets lambs skipping foolish on legs that don't +ever look like getting sense. It's the same sets a kiddie dancing +along a sidewalk coming out of the schoolhouse, and falling into dumps +and getting its bow-tie mussed. It's the same sets a boy actin' +foolish when a gal's sorrel top turns his way, even when she's all legs +and sass. It's the same sets folks crazy to risk their lives on +hilltops that a chamois 'ud hate to inspect. Guess it's a sort o' +thanks offerin' to Providence it didn't see fit setting us crawling +around without feet or hands, same as slugs and things that worry +folks' cabbige patches. I allow I can't figger it else." + +"You needn't to," Jessie declared, with a happy laugh. "Guess I know +it all--now." Then her eyes sobered. "But I--I wish you'd cut Bell +River right out." + +"Just don't you worry a thing, little Jessie," Kars said, with prompt +earnestness. He had no wish to distress her. "Bell River can't hand +me anything I don't know. Anyway I'd need to thank it if it could. +And when I get back maybe you won't need to lie awake o' nights +guessing a coyote's howl is the whoop of a neche yearning for your +scalp. Hello!" + +Their wanderings had brought them to a break in the willows where the +broad flow of the river came into full view, and the overhang of +glacial ice thrust out on the top of the precipitous bank beyond. But +it was none of this that had elicited the man's ejaculation, or had +caused his abrupt halt, and sobered the smile in his keen eyes. + +It was a pair of canoes moored close in to the bank. Two powerful +canoes, which were larger and better built than those of trading +Indians. Then there were two neches squatting on the bank crouching +over a small fire smoking their red clay pipes in silent contemplation. + +Jessie recognized the neches at a glance. + +"Why, Murray must be back or----" + +Kars turned abruptly. + +"They're Murray's? Say----" He glanced up at the hill which stood +over them. A well-beaten path led up through the pine woods. + +Jessie understood the drift of his thought. + +"That's a short way to the Fort," she said. "I wonder why he landed +here. He doesn't generally." + +But the man had no speculation to offer. + +"We best get his news," he said indicating the path. + +The moments of Jessie's delight had been swallowed up in the +significance of Murray's return. She agreed eagerly. And her +eagerness displayed the nearness to her heart of the terror of the +marauding Indians. + +John Kars led the way up the woodland path. It was the same path over +which the two trading Indians had reached the Fort on the night of his +arrival from Bell River. As he went he pondered the reason of the +trader's avoidance of the usual landing. + +Jessie watched his vigorous movements and found difficulty in keeping +pace with him. She saw in his hurry the interest he had in the affairs +of Bell River. She read in him something like confirmation of her own +fears. So she labored on in his wake without protest. + +Later, when they broke from the cover of the woods, she drew abreast of +him. She was breathing hard, and Kars became aware of the pace at +which he had come. In a moment he was all contrition. + +"Say, little Jessie," he cried, in his kindly fashion, "I'm real +sorry." Then he smiled as he slackened his gait. "It's my fool legs; +they're worse than some tongues for getting away with me. We'll take +it easy." + +But the girl refused to become a hindrance, and urged him on. Her own +desire was no less than his. + +The frowning palisade of the old Fort was above them. It stood out +staunch against the sky, yet not without some suggestion of the +sinister. And for the first time in her years of association with it +Jessie became aware of the impression. + +The old blackened walls frowned down severely. They looked like the +prison walls enclosing ages of secret doings which were never permitted +the clear light of day. They suggested something of the picture +conjured by the many fantastic folk stories which she had read in +Father Jose's library. The ogres and giants. The decoy of beautiful +girls luring their lovers to destruction within the walls of some +dreadful monster's castle. + +They passed in through the great gateway, with its massive doors flung +wide to the trade of the river. And they sought Murray's office. + +There they found Mrs. Mowbray and Alec. Murray, too, was at his desk. + +On their entrance they were greeted at once by the mother. Her eyes +were smiling and full of confidence. She looked into John Kars' face, +and he read her news even before she spoke. + +"The country's clear of them," she cried, and her relief and delight +rang in every tone. + +Jessie went at once to her side. But Kars turned to the squat figure +which filled its chair to overflowing. His steady eyes regarded the +smiling features of the trader. + +"Did it come to a scrap?" he inquired easily. + +Murray shook his head. His dark eyes were no less direct than the +other's. + +"Guess there were too many in my outfit," he said with a shrug. "It +was a bunch of neches I'd have thought your outfit could have--eaten. +A poor lot--sure." + +He finished up with a deliberate laugh, and his intention was obvious. + +Kars understood, and did not display the least resentment. + +"I'm glad," he said seriously. "Real glad." Then he added: "I didn't +guess you'd have a heap of trouble." + +He turned to the women. And his attitude left the trader's purpose +mean and small. + +"Murray's got us all beaten anyhow," he said easily. "We think we're +wise. We think we know it all. But we don't. Anyway I'm glad the +danger's fixed. I guess it'll leave me free to quit for the outside +right away." + +Then he turned to Murray, and their eyes met, and held, and only the +two men knew, and understood, the challenge which lay behind. + +"Guess I can make Leaping Horse before the rivers freeze. But I'm +getting back here with the thaw. I allow next year I'm taking no sort +of chance. This hole in my neck," he went on, indicating the bandage +about his throat, "has taught me a lot I didn't know before. The +outfit I get around with next year will be big enough to eat up any +proposition Bell River can hand me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NIGHT IN LEAPING HORSE + +Leaping Horse was a beacon which reflected its ruddy light upon the +night sky, a sign, a lure to the yearning hearts at distant points, +toiling for the wage with which to pay for sharing in its wild +excesses. It was the Gorgon of the northland, alluring, destructive, +irresistible. It was a temple dedicated to the worship of the Gods of +the Wilderness. Light, luxury and vice. Such was the summing up of +Dr. Bill, and the few who paused in the mad riot for a moment's sober +thought. Furthermore Dr. Bill's estimate of the blatant gold city was +by no means a self-righteous belief. He had known the place from its +birth. He had treated its every ailment at the height of its burning +youth. Now, in its maturity, it fell to him to learn much of the inner +secrets of its accruing mental disease. He hated it and loved it, +almost one and the same emotion. He cried aloud its shame to listening +ears. In secret he wept over its iniquities, with all the pity of a +warm-hearted man gazing upon a wanton. + +But Leaping Horse was indifferent. It spread its shabby tendrils over +hundreds of acres of territory, feeding its wanton heart upon the +squalor which gathered about its fringe as well as upon the substance +of those upon whom it had showered its fortune. + +At night its one main street radiated a light and life such as could be +found in no city in the world. The wide, unpaved thoroughfare, with +its shabby sidewalks buried to a depth of many feet of snow in winter, +and mud in the early open season, gave no indication of the tide of +wealth which flowed in this main artery. Only at night, when a +merciful dark strove to conceal, did the glittering tide light up. +Then indeed the hideous blatancy of the city's life flared out in all +its painful vulgarity. + +In the heart of the Main Street the Elysian Fields Hotel, and theatre, +and dance hall stood out a glittering star of the first magnitude, +dimming the lesser constellations with which it was surrounded. A +hundred arc lamps flung out their challenge to all roysterers and +vice-seeking souls. Thousands of small globular lights, like ropes of +luminous pearls, outlined its angles, its windows, its cornices, its +copings. All its white and gold shoddy was rendered almost magnificent +in the night. Only in the light of day was its true worth made +apparent. But who, in Leaping Horse, wanted the day? No one. Leaping +Horse was the northern Mecca of the night pleasure seeker. + +The buildings adjacent basked in its radiance. Their own eyes were +almost blinded. Their mixed forms were painfully revealed. Frame +hutches, split log cabins rubbed shoulders with buildings of steel +frame and stone fronts. Thousand dollar apartments gazed disdainfully +down upon hovels scarcely fit to shelter swine. Their noses were +proudly lifted high above the fetid atmosphere which rose from the +offal-laden causeway below. They had no heed for that breeding ground +of the germs of every disease known to the human body. + +Then the roystering throng. The Elysian Fields. It was the beach +about which the tide ebbed and flowed. It was a rough rock-bound beach +upon which the waters of life beat themselves into a fury of excess. +Its lights were the beacons of the wreckers set up for the destruction +of the human soul. + +Chief amongst the wreckers was Pap Shaunbaum, a Hebrew of doubtful +nationality, and without scruple. He prided himself that he was a +caterer for the needs of the people. His thesis was that the northland +battle needed alleviation in the narrow lap of luxury where vice ruled +supreme. He had spent his life in searching the best means of personal +profit out of the broad field of human weakness, and discovered the +Elysian Fields. + +He had labored with care and infinite thought. He had built on a +credit from the vast bank of experience, and owned in the Elysian +Fields the finest machine in the world for wrecking the soul and pocket +of the human race. + +Every attraction lay to hand. The dance hall was aglitter, the floor +perfect, and the stage equipped to foster all that appealed to the +senses. The hotel with its splendid accommodation, its bars, its +gaming rooms, its dining hall, its supper rooms, its bustle of +elaborate service. There was nothing forgotten that ingenuity could +devise to loosen the bank rolls of its clientele, and direct the flow +of gold into the proprietor's coffers--not even women. As Dr. Bill +declared in one of his infrequent outbursts of passionate protest: "The +place is one darnation public brothel; a scandal to the northland, a +shame on humanity." + +It was here, gazing down on the crowded dance hall, from one of the +curtained boxes adjacent to the stage, on which a vaudeville programme +was being performed, that two men sat screened from the chance glance +of the throng below them. + +A table stood between them, and an uncorked bottle of wine and two +glasses were placed to their hand. But the wine stood untouched, and +was rapidly becoming flat. It had been ordered as a custom of the +place. But neither had the least desire for its artificial stimulation. + +They had been talking in a desultory fashion. Talking in the pleasant +intimate fashion of men who know each other through and through. Of +men who look upon life with a vision adjusted to a single focus. + +They were watching the comings and goings of familiar faces in the +glittering overdressed throng below. The women, splendid creatures in +gowns whose cost ran into hundreds of dollars, and bejeweled almost at +any price. Beautiful faces, many of them already displaying the +ravages of a life that moved at the swiftest gait. Others again +bloated and aging long before the years asserted their claims, and +still others, fresh with all the beauty of extreme youth and a life +only at the beginning of the downward course. + +The men, too, were no less interesting to the student of psychology. +Here was every type from the illiterate human mechanism whose muscles +dominated his whole process of life, to the cultured son of +civilization who had never known before the meaning of life beyond the +portals of the temples of refinement. Here they were all on the same +highway of pleasure. Here they were all full to the brim of a +wonderful joy of life. Care was for the daylight, when the secrets of +their bank roll would be revealed, and the draft on the exchequer of +health would have to be met. + +There was displayed no element of the soil from which these people drew +their wealth, except for the talk. They had long since risen from the +moleskin and top-boot stage in Leaping Horse. The Elysian Fields +demanded outward signs of respectability in the habiliments of its +customers, and the garish display of the women was there to enforce it. +Broadcloth alone was the mode, and conformity with this rule drew forth +many delights for the observing eye. + +But the people thus disguised remained the same. Every type was +gathered, from the sound, reasonable accumulator of wealth to the +"hold-up," the gambler, the fugitive from the law. It was said of +Leaping Horse that it only required the "dust" to buy any crime known +to the penal code. And here, here at the Elysian Fields, on any night +in the week, could be found the man or woman to perpetrate it at a +moment's notice. + +Dr. Bill laughed without mirth. + +"Gee, it leaves the Bell River outfit saints beside them," he said. + +Kars' contemplative eyes were following the movements of a handsome +blond woman with red-gold hair, which was aglitter with a half circle +band of jewels supporting an aigrette, which must have cost five +thousand dollars. She was obviously young, extremely young. To his +mind she could not have been more than twenty--if that. Her eyes were +deep blue, with unusually large pupils. Her lips were ripe with a +freshness which owed nothing to any salve. Her nose was almost +patrician, and her cheeks were tinted with the bloom of exquisite +fruit. Her gown was extremely decollete, revealing shoulders and arms +of perfect ivory beauty. She was dancing a waltz with a man in +elaborate evening dress, who had discarded orthodox sobriety for crude +embellishments. The string band in the orchestra was playing with +seductive skill. + +"Who's that dame with the guy who guesses he's a parakeet?" he +demanded, without reply to the other's statement. + +"You mean the feller with the sky blue lapels to his swallow-tails?" + +"Sure. That's the guy." + +"Maude. Chesapeake Maude. She's Pap Shaunbaum's piece. Quite a girl. +She's only been along since we quit here last spring. Pap's crazy on +her. Folks say he dopes out thousands a week on her. He brought her +from the East on a specially chartered vessel he had fitted up to suit +her fancy. They figger he's raised his pool here by fifty per cent +since she came." + +"She plays the old game for him right here?" + +"Sure." + +Both men were absorbed in the girl's perfect grace of movement, as she +and her partner glided in and out through the dancing crowd. Her +attraction was immense even to these men, who were only onlookers of +the Leaping Horse riot. + +Bill touched his friend's arm. He indicated the bar at the far end of +the hall. + +"There's Pap. He's watching her. Gee, he's watching her." + +A slim iron gray man, with a dark, keen face was standing beside one of +the pillars which supported the gallery above. He was dressed in +evening clothes of perfect cut, which displayed a clean-cut figure. He +was a handsome man of perhaps forty, without a sign of the dissipation +about his dark face that was to be seen in dozens of younger men about +him. As Dr. Bill once said of him, "One of hell's gentle-folk." + +A better description of him could not have been found. Under a +well-nigh perfect exterior he concealed a depth of infamy beyond +description. A confidential police report to the authorities in the +East once contained this paragraph: + +"Pap Shaunbaum has set up a big hotel in Leaping Horse. It will be +necessary to keep a 'special' at work watching him. We should like +authority to develop this further from time to time. His record both +here, and confidential from the States, leaves him more than +undesirable. Half the toughs in Leaping Horse are in his pay." + + +That was written five years before. Since then the "special" had been +developed till a large staff was employed in the observation of the +Elysian Fields. And still under all this espionage "Pap," as he was +familiarly dubbed, moved about without any apparent concern, carrying +on his underground schemes with every outward aspect of inoffensive +honesty. All Leaping Horse knew him as a crook, but accepted him as he +posed. He was on intimate terms with all the gold magnates, and never +failed to keep on good terms with the struggling element of the +community. But he was a "gunman." He had been a "gunman" all his +life, and made small secret of it. The only change in him now was that +his gun was loaded with a different charge. + +"You figger he's dopey on her?" + +"Crazy. God help the feller that monkeys around that hen roost." + +"Yet he uses her for this play?" + +"With reserve." + +"How?" + +Dr. Bill again gave a short hard laugh. + +"You won't see her around with folk, except on that floor. Say, get a +peek at the boxes across the way, with the curtains half drawn. +They're all--occupied. You won't see Maude in those boxes, unless it's +with Pap. She's down on that floor because she loves dancing, and for +Pap's business. She's there for loot, sure, and she gets it plenty. +She's there with her dandy smile to see the rest of the women get busy. +Playing that feller's dirty game for all it's worth. And she's just a +gal full to the brim of life. He's bought her body and soul, and I +guess it's just for folks like us to sit around and watch for what's +coming. If I've got horse sense there's coming a big shriek one day, +and you'll see Pap clear through to his soul--if he's got one. He's +fallen for that dame bad. But I guess he's done the falling. I don't +guess any feller can gamble on a woman till she's in love, then I'd say +the gamble is she'll act foolish." + +Kars had no comment to offer. He was no longer watching Maude. The +dancing had ceased, and the floor had cleared. The orchestra had +already commenced the prelude to a vaudeville turn, and the drop +curtain had revealed the stage. + +His interest was centred on Pap Shaunbaum. The man was moving about +amongst his customers, exchanging a word here and there, his dark, +saturnine face smiling his carefully amiable business smile. To the +elemental man of the trail there was something very fascinating in the +way this one brain was pitting itself to plunder through the senses of +the rest of his world. + +But Dr. Bill knew it all with an intimacy that robbed it of any charm. +He had only repulsion, but repulsion that failed to deny a certain +attraction. His hot words broke through the noisy strumming of +vaudeville accompaniment. + +"For God's sake," he said, "why do we stop around this sink? You! Why +do you? The long trail? And at the end of it you got to come back to +this--every trip. I hate the place, I loathe it like a hobo hates +water. But I'm bound to it. It's up to me to help mend the poor darn +fools who haven't sense but to squander the good life Providence handed +them. But you--you with your great pile, Pap, here, would love to dip +his claws into, there's no call for you acting like some gold-crazed +lunatic. Get out, man. Get right out and breathe the wholesome air +Providence meant for you. Oh, I guess you'll say it's all on the long +trail in the northland. There isn't a thing to keep you here." + +"Isn't there?" + +Kars leaned back in his chair. He stretched his great arms above his +head, and clasped his hands behind his muscular neck. + +"There's so much to keep me here that life's not long enough to see it +through. Time was, Bill, when I guessed it was the north that had got +into my bones. But I didn't know. The long trail. The search. It +was gold--gold--gold. Same as it is with any of the other fools that +get around here. But I didn't just understand. That gold. No. I've +been searching, and the search for new ground has been one long dream +of life. But the gold I've been chasing wasn't the gold I thought it. +It wasn't the yellow stuff these folks here are ready to sell their +souls--and bodies--for. It was different. You guessed I had all the +gold I needed. But I hadn't, not of the gold I've been chasing. I +hadn't any of it. I--didn't even know its color when I saw it. I do +now. And it's the color I've seen looking out of a pair of +wonderful--wonderful gray eyes. Say, I don't quit the northland till I +can take it all with me. All there is of that gold I've found on the +long trail." + +"Jessie?" + +"Sure." + +"Then why not take her?" + +The vaudeville turn was in full swing and the folks below were standing +around talking and drinking, and gazing with only partial interest at +the feats of a woman acrobatic dancer. Bill was looking at her, too. +But his thoughts were on the girl at Fort Mowbray and this man who was +his friend. + +"Why not take her?" he urged. "Take her away from this storm-haunted +land, and set her on the golden throne you'd set up for her, where +there's warmth and beauty. Where there's no other care for her than to +yield you the wifely companionship you're yearning for. I guess she's +the one gal can hand you those things. If you don't do it, and do it +quick, you'll find the fruit in the pouch of another. Say, the harvest +comes along in its season, and it's got to be reaped. If the right +feller don't get busy--well, I guess some other feller will. There's +not a thing waits around in this world." + +The braying of the band deadened the sound of laughter, and the rattle +of glasses, and the talk going on below. Kars was still gazing down +upon the throng of pleasure seekers, basking in the brilliant glare of +light which searched the pallid and unhealthy, and enhanced the beauty +where artificiality concealed the real. His mood was intense. His +thoughts were hundreds of miles away. Quite suddenly he turned his +strong face to his friend. There was a deep light in his steady eyes, +and a grim setting to his lips. + +"I'm going to collect that harvest," he said, with a deliberate +emphasis. "If you don't know it you should. But I'm collecting it my +way. I'm going to marry Jessie, if your old friend Prov don't butt in. +But I'm going to cut the ground under the feet of the other feller my +own way, first. I've got to do that. I've a notion. It's come to me +slow. Not the way notions come to you, Bill. I'm different. I can +act like lightning when it's up to me, but I can't see into a brick +wall half as far as you--nor so quick. I've bin looking into a brick +wall ever since we hit Bell River, and I've seen quite a piece into it. +I'm not going to hand you what I've seen--yet. I've got to see more. +I won't see the real till I make Bell River again. If what I guess I'm +going to see is right, after that I'm going to marry Jessie right away, +and she, and her _mother_, and me--well, we're going to quit the north. +There won't be a long trail in this country can drag me an inch from +the terminals of civilization after that." + +A deep satisfaction shone in the doctor's smiling eyes as he gazed at +the serious face of his friend. But there was question, too. + +"You've laid a plain case but I don't see the whole drift," he said. +"Still you've fixed to marry Jessie, and quit this darnation country. +For me it goes at that--till you fancy opening out. But you're still +bent on the Bell River play. I've got all you said to me on the trail +down. You figger those folks are to be robbed by--some one. Do you +need to wait for that? Why not marry that gal and get right out taking +her folks with her? Let all the pirates do as they darn please with +Bell River. I don't get any other view of this thing right." + +"No. But I do." There was a curious, obstinate thrust to this big +man's jaw. "By heaven, Bill! The feller responsible for the murder of +my little gal's father, a father she just loved to death, don't git +away with his play if I know it. The feller that hands her an hour's +suffering needs to answer to me for it, and I'm ready to hand over my +life in seeing he gets his physic. There's no one going to get away +with the boodle Allan gave his life for--not if I can hold him up. +That's just as fixed in my mind as I'm going to marry Jessie. Get that +good. And I hold you to your word on the trail. You're with me in it. +I've got things fixed, and I've set 'em working. I'm quitting for +Seattle in the morning. You'll just sit around lying low, and doping +out your physic to every blamed sinner who needs it. Then, with the +spring, you'll stand by ready to quit for the last long trail with me. +Maybe, come that time, I'll hand you a big talk of all the fool things +I've got in my head. How?" + +The other drew a deep sigh. But he nodded. + +"Sure. If you're set that way--why, count me in." + +"The man that can 'ante' blind maybe is a fool. But he's good grit +anyway. Thanks, Bill. I--what's doing?" + +The sharpness of Kars' inquiry was the result of a startled movement in +his companion. Dr. Bill was leaning forward. But he was leaning so +that he was screened by the heavy curtain of the box. He was craning. +In his eyes was a profound look of wonder, almost of incredulity. + +The vaudeville act had come to an end with a brazen flourish from the +orchestra, and a waltz had been started on the instant. The eyes of +the man were staring down at the floor below, where, already, several +couples were gliding over its polished surface. + +"Look," he said, in a suppressed tone of voice. "Keep back so he don't +see you. Get a look at Chesapeake Maude." + +Kars searched the room for the beautiful red-gold head. He looked +amongst the crowd. Then his gaze came to the few dancers, their +numbers already augmenting. The flash of jewels caught his gaze. The +wonderful smiling face with its halo of red-gold. An exclamation broke +from him. + +"Alec Mowbray!" + +But it was left to Bill to find expression for the realization that was +borne in on them both. + +"And he's half soused. The crazy kid!" + +Maude seemed to float over the gleaming floor. Alec Mowbray, for all +the signs of drink he displayed, was no mean partner. His handsome +face, head and shoulders above the tall woman he was dancing with, +gazed out over the sea of dancers in all the freshness of his youthful +joy, and triumph. He danced well, something he had contrived to learn +in the joyless country from which he hailed. But there was no +reflection of his joy in the faces of the two men gazing down from the +shelter of the curtained box. There were only concern and a grievous +regret. + +Bill rose with a sigh. + +"I quit," he said. + +Kars rose, too. + +"Yes." + +The two men stood for a moment before passing out of the box. + +"It looks like that shriek's coming," Bill said. "God help that poor +darn fool if Pap and Maude get a hold on him." + +"He came down with Murray," Kars said pondering. + +"Yes. He ought to have come around with his mam." + +Kars nodded. + +"Get a hold on him, Bill, when I'm gone. For God's sake get a hold on +him. It's up to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON THE NORTHERN SEAS + +The mists hung drearily on snow-crowned, distant hilltops. The deadly +gray of the sky suggested laden clouds bearing every threat known to +the elements. They were traveling fast, treading each other's heels, +and overwhelming each other till the gloom banked deeper and deeper. +It was the mockery of an early spring day. It had all the appearance +of the worst depths of winter, except that the intense cold had given +place to a fierce wind of higher temperature. + +The seas were running high, and the laden vessel labored heavily as it +passed the sharp teeth of the jaws of the wide sound which marked the +approach to the northern land. + +There was no sheltering bar here. The only obstruction to the fierce +onslaught of the North Pacific waters was the almost submerged legion +of cruel rocks which confined the deep water channel. It was a deadly +approach which took years of a ship's captain's life to learn. And +when he had learned it, so far as it was humanly possible, it quickly +taught him how little he knew. Not a season passed but some +unfortunate found for himself a new, uncharted rock. + +The land rose up to overwhelming heights on either side, and these vast +barriers narrowed the wind channel till the force of the gale was +trebled. It swept in from the broad ocean with a roar and a boom, +bearing the steamer along, floundering through the racing waters, with +a crushing following sea. + +There were twelve hours of this yet ahead of him, and John Dunne paced +his bridge with every faculty alert. He watched the skies. He watched +the breaking waters. He watched the shores on either side of him, as +he might watch the movements of a remorseless adversary about to attack +him. He had navigated this channel for upwards of fifteen years, and +understood to-day how small was his understanding of its virtues, and +how real and complete his fears of its vices. But it was his work to +face it at all times and all seasons, and he accepted the +responsibility with a cheerful optimism and an equal skill. + +Once or twice he howled a confidence to his chief officer, who occupied +the bridge with him. There were moments when his lips were at the +speaking tubes, and his hand on the telegraph. There were moments when +he stood with his arms folded over the breast of his thick pea-jacket, +and his half-closed eyes searched the barren shores while he leaned +against the shaking rail. + +He had been on the bridge the whole night, and still his bodily vigor +seemed quite unimpaired. His stocky body concealed a power of +endurance which his life had hardened him to. He rarely talked of the +dangers through which he had journeyed on the northern seas. He feared +them too well to desire to recall them. He was wont to say he lived +only in the present. To look ahead would rob him of his nerve. To +gaze back over the manifold emergencies through which he had passed +would only undermine his will. The benefit of his philosophy was +displayed in his habitual success. In consequence he was the commodore +of his company's fleet. + +He passed down from his bridge at last. And it was almost with +reluctance. It was breakfast time, and he had been summoned already +three times by an impatient steward. At the door of his cabin he was +met by John Kars who was to be his guest at the meal. These men were +old friends, bound by the common ties of the northland life. They had +made so many journeys together over these turbulent waters. To Kars it +would have been unthinkable to travel under any other sea captain. + +"Still watching for those jaws to snap?" said Kars, as he passed into +the little room ahead of his host, and sniffed hungrily at the fragrant +odor of coffee. + +"Why, yes," he said. "Jaws that's always snapping generally need +watching, I guess. A feller needs the eyes of a spider to get to +windward of the things lying around Blackrock Sound. Say, I guess it +wouldn't come amiss to dump this patch into the devil's dugout fer fool +skippers, who lost their ships through 'souse,' to navigate around in. +It has you guessin' most of the time. And you're generally wrong, +anyway." + +The men sat down at the table, and the steward served the coffee. For +a few moments they were busy helping themselves to the grilled kidneys +and bacon. Presently the steward withdrew. + +"It's been a better trip than usual this time of year," Kars said. +"It's a pity running into this squall just now." + +The seaman raised a pair of twinkling eyes in his guest's direction. + +"It's mostly my experience. Providence generally figgers to hand you +things at--inconvenient times. This darn sound's tricky when there +ain't breeze enough to clear your smoke away. It's fierce when it's +blowing. Guess you'll be glad to see your outfit ashore." + +"Ye-es." + +"Up country again this year?" + +Kars laughed. + +"Sure." + +The seaman regarded him enviously. + +"Guess it must be great only having the weather to beat. A piece of +hard soil under your feet must be bully to work on. That ain't been +mine since I was fourteen. That's over forty years ago." + +"There's something to it--sure." Kars sipped his coffee. "But there's +other things," he added, as he set his cup down. + +The seaman smiled. + +"Wouldn't be Life if there weren't." + +"No." + +"You're shipping arms," John Dunne went on significantly. "Guns an' +things don't signify all smiles an' sunshine. No, I guess we sea folks +got our troubles. It's only they're diff'rent from other folks. You +ain't the only feller shipping arms. We got cases else. An' a big +outfit of cartridges. I was looking into the lading schedule +yesterday. Say, the Yukon ain't makin' war with Alaska?" + +The man's curiosity was evident, but he disguised it with a broad smile. + +Kars' steady eyes regarded him thoughtfully. Then he, too, smiled. + +"I don't reckon the Yukon's worrying to scrap. But folks inside--I +mean right inside beyond Leaping Horse where the p'lice are--need arms. +There's a lot of low type Indians running loose. They aren't to be +despised, except for their manners. Guess the stuff you speak of is +for one of the trading posts?" + +"Can't say. It's billed to a guy named Murray McTavish at Blackrock +Flat. There's a thousand rifles an' nigh two million rounds of +cartridges. Guess he must be carryin' on a war of his own with them +Injuns. Know the name?" + +Kars appeared to think profoundly. + +"Seems to me I know the name. Can't just place it for---- Say--I've +got it. He's the partner of the feller the neches murdered up at Fort +Mowbray, on the Snake River. Sure, that explains it. Oh, yes. The +folks up that way are up against it. The neches are pretty darn bad." +He laughed. "Guess he's out for a war of extermination with such an +outfit as that." + +"Seems like it." The skipper went on eating for some moments in +silence. His curiosity was satisfied. Nor did Kars attempt to break +the silence. He was thinking--thinking hard. + +"It beats me," Dunne went on presently, "you folk who don't need to +live north of 'sixty.' What is it that keeps you chasing around in a +cold that 'ud freeze the vitals of a tin statue?" + +Kars shook his head. + +"You can search me," he said, with a shrug. "Guess it sort of gets in +the blood, though. There's times when I cuss it like you cuss the +waters that hand you your life. Then there's times when I love it +like--like a pup loves offal. You can't figger it out any more than +you can figger out why the sun and moon act foolish chasing each other +around an earth that don't know better than to spend its time buzzing +around on a pivot that don't exist. You can't explain these things any +more than you can explain the reason why no two folks can think the +same about things, except it is their own way of thinking it's the +right way. Nor why it is you mostly get rain when you're needin' sun, +and wind when you're needin' calm, and anyway it's coming from the +wrong quarter. If you guess you're looking for gold, it's a thousand +dollars to a dime you find coal, or drown yourself in a 'gush' of oil. +If you're married, an' you're looking for a son, it's a sure gamble you +get a gal. Most everything in life's just about as crazy as they'll +allow outside a foolish house, and as for life itself, well, it's a +darn nuisance anyway, but one you're mighty glad keeps busy your way." + +At that moment, the speaking tube from the bridge emitted a sharp +whistle, and the skipper, with a broad smile on his weather-beaten +face, went to answer it. + + +The clatter of the winches ceased. The creaking of straining hawsers +lessened. The voices of men only continued their hoarse-throated +shoutings. The gangways had been secured in place, and while the crew +were feverishly opening the vessel's hatches the few passengers who had +made the journey under John Dunne's watchful care hustled down the +high-angled gangway to the quay, glad enough to set foot on the +slush-laden land. + +The days of the wild rush of gold-mad incompetents were long since +past. The human freight of John Dunne's vessel, with the exception of +John Kars, was commercial. They were mostly men whose whole work was +this new great trade with the north. + +Kars was one of the first to land, and he swiftly searched the faces of +the crowd of longshoremen. + +It was a desolate quay-side of a disreputable town. But though all +picturesqueness was given over to utility, there was a sense of +homeliness to the traveler after the stormy passage of the North +Pacific. Blackrock crouched under the frowning ramparts of hills which +barred the progress of the waters. It was dwarfed, and rendered even +more desolate, by the sterile snow-laden crags with which it was +crowded. But these first impressions were quickly lost in the life +that strove on every hand. In the familiar clang of the locomotive +bell, and the movement of railroad wagons which were engaged in haulage +for Leaping Horse. + +Kars' search ended in a smile of greeting, as a tall, lean American +detached himself from the crowd and came towards him. He greeted the +arrival with the easy casualness of the northlander. + +"Glad to see you, Chief," he said, shaking hands. "Stuff aboard? +Good," as the other nodded. "Guess the gang'll ship it right away jest +as soon as they haul it out o' the guts of the old tub. You goin' on +up with the mail? She's due to get busy in two hours, if she don't get +colic or some other fool trouble." + +Abe Dodds refused to respond to his friend and chief's smile of +greeting. He rarely shed smiles on anything or any one. He was a +mining engineer of unusual gifts, in a country where mining engineers +and flies vied with each other for preponderance. He was a man who +bristled with a steady energy which never seemed to tire, and he had +been in the service of John Kars from the very early days. + +Kars indicated the snub-nosed vessel he had just left. + +"The stuff's all there," he said. "Nearly fifty tons of it. You need +to hustle it up to Leaping Horse, and on to the camp right away. Guess +we break camp in two weeks." + +The man nodded. + +"Sure. That's all fixed. Anything else?" + +His final inquiry was his method of dismissing his employer. But Kars +did not respond. His keen eyes had been searching the crowd. Now they +came back to the plain face of Abe, whose jaws were working busily on +the wreck of the end of a cigar. He lowered his voice to a +confidential tone. + +"There's a big outfit of stuff aboard for Murray McTavish, of Fort +Mowbray. Has he an outfit here to haul it? Is he still around Leaping +Horse?" + +Abe's eyes widened. He was quite unconcerned at the change of tone. + +"Why, yes," he replied promptly. "Sure he's an outfit here. He's +shipping it up to Leaping Horse by the Yukon Transport--express. He +quit the city last November, an' come along down again a week ago. +Guess he's in the city right now. He's stopping around Adler's Hotel." + +Kars' eyes were on the "hauls" of the cargo boat which were already +busy. + +"You boys kept to instructions?" he demanded sharply. "No one's wise +to your camp?" + +"Not a thing." + +"There's not a word of me going around the city?" + +"Not a word." + +"The outfit's complete?" + +"Sure. To the last boy. You can break camp the day after this stuff's +hauled and we've packed it." + +"Good." Kars sighed as if in relief. "Well, I'll get on. Hustle all +you know. And, say, get a tally of McTavish's outfit. Get their time +schedule. I'll need it. So long." + +Kars followed his personal baggage which a quayside porter had taken on +to the grandiosely named mail train. + + +John Kars was standing at the curtained window of Dr. Bill's apartment +in the Hoffman Apartment House. His back was turned on the luxuriously +furnished room. For some time the silence had been broken only by the +level tones of the owner of the apartment who was lounging in the +depths of a big rocker adjacent to a table laden with surgical +instruments. He had been telling the detailed story of the +preparations made at the camp some ten miles distant from the city, and +the supervision of whose affairs Kars had left in his hands. As he +ceased speaking Kars turned from his contemplation of the tawdry white +and gold of the Elysian Fields which stood out in full view from the +window of the apartment. + +"Now tell me of that boy--Alec," he demanded. + +The directness of the challenge had its effect. Bill Brudenell stirred +uneasily in his chair. His shrewd eyes widened with a shade of +trouble. Nor did he answer readily. + +"Things are wrong?" Kars' steady eyes searched his friend's face. + +"Well--they're not--good." + +"Ah. Tell me." + +Kars moved from the window. It almost seemed that all that had passed +was incomparable in interest with his present subject. He seated +himself on the corner of the table which held the surgical instruments. + +"No. It's not good. It's--it's darned bad." Bill rose abruptly from +his chair and began to pace the room, his trim shoulders hunched as +though he were suddenly driven to a desire for aggression. "Look here, +John," he cried almost vehemently. "If you or I had had that boy set +in our charge, seeing what we saw that first night, and knowing what +I've heard since, could we have quit this lousy city for months and +left him to his fool play over at Pap's? Not on your life. But it's +what Murray's done. Gee, I could almost think he did it purposely." + +Kars pointed at the rocker. There was a curious light in his gray +eyes. It was a half smile. Also it possessed a subtle stirring of +fierceness. + +"Sit down, Bill," he said calmly. "But start right in from--the start." + +The man of healing obeyed mechanically, but he chafed at the restraint. +His usual ease had undergone a serious disturbance. There was nothing +calculated to upset him like the disregard of moral obligation. Crime +he understood, folly he accepted as something belonging to human +nature. But the moral "stunt," as he was wont to characterize it, hurt +him badly. Just now he was regarding Murray McTavish with no very +friendly eyes, and he deplored beyond words the doings of the boy who +was Jessie Mowbray's brother. + +"The start!" he exploded. "Where _can_ I start? If the start were as +I see it, it 'ud be to tell you that Murray's a callous skunk who don't +care a whoop for the obligations Allan's murder left on his fat +shoulders. But I guess that's not the start as you see it. That boy!" +He sprang from his seat again and Kars made no further attempt to +restrain him. "He's on the road to the devil faster than an express +locomotive could carry him. He's in the hands of 'Chesapeake' Maude, +who's got him by both feet and neck. And he's handing his bank roll +over to Pap, and his gang, with a shovel. He's half soused any old +time after eleven in the morning. And his back teeth are awash by +midnight 'most every day. You can see him muling around the dance +floor till you get sick of the sight of his darn fool smile, and you +wish all the diamonds Maude wears were lost in the deepest smudge fires +of hell. Start? There is no start. But there's a sure finish." + +"You mean if he don't quit he'll go right down and out?" + +Bill came to a halt directly in front of his friend. His keen eyes +gazed straight into the strong face confronting him. + +"No, I don't mean that. It's worse," he said, with a gravity quite +changed from his recent agitated manner. + +"Worse?" Kars' question came sharply. "Go on." + +"Oh, I did all you said that night. I got a holt on him next day at +the Gridiron, where he's stopping. He told me to go to a certain hot +place and mind my own business, which was doping out drugs. I went to +Murray, and he served me little better. He grinned. He always grins. +He threw hot air about a youngster and wild oats. He guessed the kid +would sober up after a fling. They'd figgered on this play. His +mother, and Jose, and him. They guessed it was best. Then he was +going to get around back and act the man his father was on the trail. +That was his talk. And he grinned--only grinned when I guessed he was +five sorts of darned fool." + +Bill paused. It might almost have been that he paused for breath after +the speed at which his words came. Kars waited with deliberate +patience, but his jaws were set hard. + +"But now--now?" The doctor passed a hand across his broad forehead and +smoothed his iron gray hair. He turned his eyes thoughtfully upon the +window through which they beheld the white and gold of the Elysian +Fields. "The worst thing's happened. It's in the mouth of every one +in Leaping Horse. It's the scream of every faro joint and 'draw' +table. The fellers on the sidewalk have got the laugh of it. Maude's +got dopey on him. She's plumb stuck on him. The dame Pap's spilt +thousands on has gone back on him for a fool boy she was there to roll. +Things are seething under the surface, and it's the sort of atmosphere +Pap mostly lives in. He's crazy mad. And when Pap's crazy, things are +going to happen. There's just one end coming. Only one end. That +boy's going to get done up, and Pap's to be all in at the doing. Oh, +he'll take no chances. There'll be no shriek. That kid'll peter right +out sudden. And it'll be Pap who knows how." + +"Murray's in the city. Have you seen him?" Kars spoke coldly. + +"I saw him yesterday noon. I went to Adler's at lunch time to be sure +getting him." + +"What did he say?" + +"I scared him. Plumb scared him. But it was the same grin. Gee, how +that feller grins." + +"What did he say?" Kars persisted. + +"He'd do all he knew to get the kid away. But he guessed he'd be up +against it. He guessed Alec had mighty little use for him, and you +can't blame the kid when you think of that grin. But he figgered to do +his best anyway. He cursed the kid for a sucker, and talked of a +mother's broken heart if things happened. But I don't reckon he cares +a cuss anyway. That feller's got one thing in life if I got any sane +notion. It's trade. He hasn't the scruples of a Jew money-lender for +anything else." + +Kars nodded. + +"I'm feeling that way--too." + +"You couldn't feel otherwise." + +"I wasn't thinking of your yarn, Bill," Kars said quickly. "It's +something else. That feller's shipped in a thousand rifles, and a big +lot of ammunition. I lit on it through John Dunne. What's he want 'em +for? I've been asking myself that ever since. He don't need a +thousand rifles for trade." + +It was Bill's turn for inquiry. It came with a promptness that +suggested his estimation of the importance of the news. + +"What is it?" he demanded. + +"Is he going to wipe out the Bell River outfit?" Kars' eyes regarded +his friend steadily. + +For some moments no further word was spoken. Each was contemplating +the ruthless purpose of a man who contemplated wiping out a tribe of +savages to suit his own sordid ends. It was almost unbelievable. Yet +a thousand rifles for a small trading post. It was the number which +inspired the doubt. + +It was Kars who finally broke the silence. He left his seat on the +table and stood again at the window with his back turned. + +"Guess we best leave it at that," he said. + +"Yes. What are you going to do?" + +"Look in at the Gridiron, and pass the time of day with young Alec." +Kars laughed shortly. Then he turned, and his purpose was shining in +his eyes. "Alec's Jessie's brother--and I've got to save that kid from +himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AT THE GRIDIRON + +Kars was early abroad. He left his apartment on the first floor of the +same apartment house which furnished Bill Brudenell with his less +palatial quarters, and sauntered down the main street in the direction +of the Gridiron. + +His mood was by no means a happy one. He realized only too surely that +a man bent upon an errand such as he was stood at something more than a +disadvantage. His life was made up of the study of the life about him. +His understanding was of the cruder side of things. But now, when +action, when simple force of character were his chief assets, he was +called upon, or he had called upon himself, to undertake the difficult +task of making a youth, big, strong, hot-headed, mad with the newly +tasted joy of living, detach himself from his new life. + +Nor was he without qualms when he passed the portals of the hotel, +which ranked second only in ill-fame to Pap Shaunbaum's. + +If the Gridiron possessed less ill-fame than its contemporary it was +not because its proprietor was any less a "hold-up" than Pap. It was +simply that his methods were governed by a certain circumspection. He +cloaked his misdoings under a display of earnest endeavor in the better +direction. For instance, every room displayed a printed set of +regulations against anything and everything calculated to offend the +customer of moral scruples--if such an one could be discovered in +Leaping Horse. Dan McCrae enforced just as many of these regulations +as suited him. And, somehow, for all he had drawn them up himself, +none of them ever seemed to suit him. But they had their effect on his +business. It became the fashion of the men of greater substance to +make it a headquarters. And it was his boast that more wealth passed +in and out of his doors than those of any house in Leaping Horse, +except the bank. + +Dan only desired such custom. He possessed a hundred and one pleasant +wiles for the loosening of the bank rolls of such custom. No man ever +left his establishment after a brief stay without considerably less +bulging pockets. + +When Dan espied the entrance of John Kars from behind the glass +partition, which divided his office from the elaborate entrance hall, +he lost no time in offering a personal welcome. Kars was his greatest +failure in Leaping Horse, just as Pap had had to admit defeat. That +these two men had failed to attract to their carefully baited traps the +richest man in the country, a man unmarried, too, a man whose home +possessed no other attraction than that of a well-furnished apartment, +was a disaster too great for outward lamentation. + +But neither despaired, even after years of failure. Nor did they ever +lose an opportunity. It was an opportunity at this moment. + +"Glad to see you back, Mr. Kars." The small, smiling, dangerous Dan +was the picture of frank delight. "Leaping Horse misses her big men. +Had a pleasant vacation?" + +Kars had no illusions. + +"Can't call a business trip a vacation," he said with a smile. "I +don't reckon the North Pacific in winter comes under that heading +either. Say, there's a boy stopping around here. Alexander Mowbray. +Is he in the hotel?" + +Dan cocked a sharp eye. + +"I'll send a boy along," he said, pressing a bell. A sharp word to the +youth who answered it and he turned again to the visitor. + +"Guess you know most of these up-country folk," he said. "There's +things moving inside. We're getting spenders in, quite a little. The +city's asking questions. Mr. Mowbray's been here all winter, and he +seems to think dollars don't cut ice beside a good time. I figger +there's going to be a fifty per cent raise in the number of outfits +making inside this season. There's a big talk of things. Well, it +mostly finds its way into this city, so we can't kick any." + +"No, you folks haven't any kick coming," Kars said amiably. This man's +inquiries made no impression on him. It was the sort of thing he was +accustomed to wherever he went in Leaping Horse. + +At that moment a bell rang in the office, and Kars heard his name +repeated by the 'phone operator. + +"Ah, Mr. Mowbray's in," observed Dan, turning back to the office. + +"Mr. Mowbray will be glad if you'll step right up, Mr. Kars." The +'phone clerk had emerged from his retreat. + +"Thanks. What number?" + +"Three hundred and one. Third floor, Mr. Kars," replied the clerk, +with that love of the personal peculiar to his class. Then followed a +hectoring command, "Elevator! Lively!" + +Kars stepped into the elevator and was "expressed" to the third floor. + +A few moments later he was looking into the depressed eyes of a youth +he had only known as the buoyant, headstrong, north-bred son of Allan +Mowbray. + +The change wrought in one brief winter was greater than Kars had +feared. Dissipation was in every line of the half-dressed youth's +handsome face, and, as Kars looked into it, a great indignation mingled +with his pity. But his indignation was against the trader who had left +the youth to his own foolish devices in a city whose morals might well +have shamed an aboriginal. Nor was his pity alone for the boy. His +memory had gone back to the splendid dead. It had also flown to the +two loving women whose eyes must have rained heart-breaking tears at +the picture he was gazing upon. + +The boy thing out a hand, and a smile lit his tired features for a +moment as he welcomed the man who had always been something of a hero +to him. He had hastily slipped on his trousers and thrust his feet +into shoes. His pajama jacket was open, revealing the naked flesh +underneath. Nor could Kars help but admire the physique now being so +rapidly prostituted. + +"It's bully of you looking me up," Alec said, with as much cordiality +as an aching head would permit. + +Then he laughed shamefacedly. "Guess I'm dopey this morning. I sat in +at 'draw' last night, and collected quite a bunch of money. I didn't +feel like quitting early." + +Kars took up a position on the tumbled bed. His quick eyes were busy +with the elaborate room. He priced it heavily in his mind. Nor did he +miss the cocktail tray at the bedside, and the litter of clothes, +clothes which must have been bought in Leaping Horse, scattered +carelessly about. + +"It don't do quitting when luck's running," he said, without a shade of +censure. "A feller needs to call the limit--till it turns. 'Draw's' +quite a game." + +Alec had had doubts when John Kars' name had come up to him. He had +only been partially aware of them. It had been the working of a +consciousness of the life he was living, and of the clean living nature +of his visitor. But the big man's words dispelled the last shadow of +doubt, and he went on freely. + +"Say," he cried, enthusiasm suddenly stirring him, "I'm only just +getting wise to the things I missed all these years. It gets me beat +to death how a feller like you, who could come near buying the whole +blamed city, can trail around the country half your time and the other +dope around on a rough sea with the wind blowing clear through your +vitals." + +"It's cleaner air--both ways." + +The boy flung himself on the bed with his back against the foot-rail. +He reached out and pressed the bell. + +"Have a cocktail?" he said. "No?" as Kars shook his head. "Well, I +got to, anyway. That's the only kick I got coming to the mornings. +Gee, a feller gets a thirst. But who'd give a whoop for clean air? +I've had so much all my life," he went on, with a laugh. "I'm lookin' +for something with snap to it." + +"Sure." Kars' steady eyes never changed their smiling expression. +"Things with snap are good for--a while." + +"'A while'? I want 'em all the time. Guess I owe Murray a big lot. +It was him who fixed mother so she'd stake me, and let me git around. +I didn't always figger Murray had use for me. But he's acted fine, and +I guess I--say, I ran short of money a while back, and when he came +along down he handed me a bunch out of his own dip, and stood good for +a few odd debts! Murray! Get a line on it. Can you beat it? And +Murray figgers more on dollars than any feller I know." + +"You never know your friends till you get a gun-hole in your stomach," +Kars laughed. "Murray's more of a sport than you guessed. He +certainly don't unroll easy." + +The boy's face was alight with good feeling. He sat up eagerly. + +"That's just how I thought," he cried. "I----" A knock at the door +was followed by the entrance of a bell-boy with the cocktail. Alec +seized it, and drank thirstily. + +Kars looked on. He gave no sign. + +"That feller knows his job," he said, as the boy withdrew. + +Alec laughed. He was feeling in better case already. + +"Sure he does. A single push on that bell means one cocktail. He +generally makes the trip twice in the morning. But say, talking of +Murray, one of these days I'm going to make a big talk with him and +just tell him what I feel 'bout things. I've got to tell him I've just +bin a blamed young fool and didn't understand the sort of man he was." + +"Then you've had trouble with him--again?" Kars' question had a sudden +sharpening in it. He was thinking of what Bill had told him. + +"Not a thing. Say, we haven't had a crooked word since we quit the old +Fort. He's a diff'rent guy when he gets away from his--store. No, +sir, Murray's wise. He guesses I need to see and do things. And he's +helped me all he knows. And he showed me around some dandy places +before I got wise." + +He laughed boisterously, and his laugh drove straight to the heart of +the man who heard it. + +Kars was no moralist, but he knew danger when he saw it, moral or +physical. The terrible danger into which this youth, this foolish +brother of Jessie, had been plunged by Murray McTavish stirred him as +he had not been stirred for years. Women, gaming, drink. This simple, +weak, splendid youth. Leaping Horse, the cesspool of the earth. A +mental shudder passed through him. But the acutest thought of the +moment was of the actions of Murray McTavish. Why had he shown this +boy "places"? Why had he financed him privately, and not left it to +Ailsa Mowbray? Why, why, had he lied to Bill on the subject of a +quarrel with Alec? + +But these things, these thoughts found no outward expression. He had +his purpose to achieve. + +He nodded reflectively. + +"Murray's got his ways," he said. "Guess we most have. Murray's ways +mayn't always be our ways. They mayn't ever be. But that don't say a +thing against 'em." He smiled. It was the patient smile of a man who +is entirely master of himself. "Then Murray's got a kick coming to +him, too. He's a queer figger, and he knows it and hates it. A thing +like that's calculated to sour a feller some. I mean his ways." + +Alec's agreement came with a smiling nod. He became expansive. + +"Sure," he said. "You know Murray's got no women-folk around him. And +I guess a feller's not alive till he's got women-folk around him." He +drew a deep breath. "Gee," he cried, in a sort of ecstasy. "I know +those things--now." + +"Yes." + +Kars was watching the play of emotion in the boy's eyes. He was +following every thought passing behind them, measuring those things +which might militate against his object. + +"I can tell you a thing now I'd have hated to remember a while back," +Alec went on. "Say, it used to set me plumb crazy thinking of it. +There were times I could have shot Murray down in his tracks for it. +It was Jessie. He was just crazy to marry her. I know," he nodded +sapiently. "He never said a word. Jess knew, too, and she never said +a word. She hates him. She hates him--that way--worse than she hates +the Bell River neches. I was glad then. But it ain't that way now. +We were both wrong. Maybe I'll make a talk with her one day. I owe +Murray more than the dollars he handed me." + +"Yes." + +Not by the movement of an eyelid did Kars betray his feelings. But a +fierce passion was tingling in every nerve as the youth went on talking. + +"It's queer how folks get narrowed down living in a bum layout like the +Fort." He smiled in a self-satisfied way. "I used to think Jose a +wise guy one time. There's heaps of things you can't see right in a +layout like that. I reckon Jessie ought to know Murray better. It's +up to me. Don't you guess that way, too?" + +Kars smilingly shook his head. + +"It doesn't do butting in," he said. "Y'see folks know best how they +need to act. You're feeling that way--now. No feller can think right +for others. Guess folks' eyes don't see the same. Maybe it's to do +with the color," he smiled. "When a man and a woman get thinking +things, there's no room for other folks." + +Kars' manner had a profound effect. He was talking as though dealing +with a man of wide worldly knowledge, and the youth was more than +flattered. He accepted the situation and the suggestion. + +"Maybe you're right," he said at once. "I felt I'd like to hand him a +turn--that's all." + +Kars shrugged. + +"It doesn't matter a thing," he said, with calculated purpose. "It's +just my notion." Then he laughed. "But I didn't get around to worry +with Murray McTavish. It's better than that." + +He rose abruptly from the bed and moved across to the window. Alec was +in the act of lighting a cigarette. The match burned itself out in his +fingers, and the cigarette remained unlighted. His eyes were on his +visitor with sudden expectation. Finally he broke into an uneasy laugh. + +"Murray isn't the only ice on the river," he said weakly. + +Kars turned about. + +"Nor is he the only gold you'll maybe locate around. Do you feel like +handling--other? Are you looking to make a big bunch of dollars? Do +you need a stake that's going to hand you all the things you've dreamed +about? You guess I'm a rich man. Folks figger I'm the richest man +north of 'sixty.' Maybe I am. Well, if you guess you'd like to be the +same way, it's up to you." + +Alec was sitting up. The effects of his overnight debauch had been +completely flung aside. His eyes, so like his father's, were wide, and +his handsome face was alive with a sudden excitement. He flung his +cigarette aside. + +"Say, you're--fooling," he breathed incredulously. + +Kars shook his head. + +"I quit that years," he said. + +"I--I don't get you," Alec went on at last, in a sort of desperate +helplessness. + +Kars dropped on to the bed again and laughed in his pleasant fashion. + +"Sure you don't. But do you feel like it? Are you ready to take a +chance--with me?" + +"By Gee--yes! If there's a stake at the end of it." + +"The stake's there, sure. But--but it means quitting Leaping Horse +right away. It means hitting the old trail you curse. It means +staking your life for all it's worth. It means using all that that big +man, your father, handed you in life. It means getting out on God's +earth, and telling the world right here you're a man, and a mighty big +man, too. It means all that, and," he added with a smile that was +unreadable, "a whole heap more." + +Something of the excitement had died out of Alec's face. A shade of +disappointment clouded his eyes. He reached out for another cigarette. +Kars watched the signs. + +"Well?" he questioned sharply. "There's millions of dollars in this +for you. I'll stake my word on it it's a cinch--or death. I've +handled the strike, and I know it's all I figger. I came along to hand +you this proposition. And it's one I wouldn't hand to another soul +living. I'm handing it to you because you're your father's son, +because I need a feller whose whole training leaves him with the north +trail beaten. It's up to you right here--and now." + +The youngster smoked on in silence. Kars watched the battle going on +behind his averted eyes. He knew what he was up against. He was +struggling to save this boy against the overwhelming forces of extreme +youth and weakness. The whole of his effort was supported by the +barest thread. Would that thread hold? + +Again came that nervous movement as Alec flung away his half-smoked +cigarette. + +"When should we need to start?" he demanded almost brusquely. + +"Two weeks from now." + +The egoism of the boy left him almost unappreciative of what this man +was offering him. Kars had subtly flattered his vanity. He had done +it purposely. He had left the youngster with the feeling that he was +being asked a favor. There was relief in the tone of the reply. And +complaint followed it up. + +"That's not so bad. You said 'right away.'" + +Kars' eyes were regarding him steadily. + +"I call that right away. Well? I'm not handing you any more of it +till you--accept," he added. + +Alec suddenly sprang from the bed. He paced the room with long nervous +strides. He felt that never in his life had he faced such a crisis. +Kars simply looked on. + +At last the boy spoke something of his thought aloud. + +"By Gee! I can't refuse it. It's--it's too big. Two weeks. She'll +be crazy about it. She'll--by gad, I must do it. I can----" + +He broke off abruptly. He came to the foot-rail of the bed. He stood +with his great hands clenching it firmly, as though for support. + +"I'll go, Kars," he cried. "I'll go! And it's just great of you. +I--I--it was kind of hard. There's things----" + +Kars nodded. + +"Sure," he said, with a smile. "But--she'll wait for you--if she's the +woman you guess. It's only a year. But say, you'll need to sign a +bond. A bond of secrecy, and--good faith. There's no quitting--once +it's signed." + +The big man's eyes shone squarely into the boy's. And something of the +dead father looked back at him. + +"Curse it, I'll sign," Alec cried with sudden force. "I'll sign +anything. Millions of dollars! I'll sign right away, and I'll--play +as you'd have me." + +The boy passed a hand through his hair. His decision had cost him +dearly. But he had taken it. + +"Good." Kars rose from the bed. "Get dressed, Alec," he said kindly. +"You'll sign that bond before you eat. After that I'll hand you all +the talk you need. Call round at my apartment when you're fixed." + +As John Kars passed out of the Gridiron one thought alone occupied him. +Murray McTavish had lied. He had lied deliberately to Bill Brudenell. +He had made no attempt to save the boy from the mire into which he had +helped to fling him. On the contrary, he had thrust him deeper and +deeper into it. Why? What--what was the meaning of it all? Where +were things heading? What purpose lay behind the man's doings? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE "ONLOOKERS" AGAIN + +The prompt action of John Kars looked as if it would achieve the +desired result. His plan had been without any depth of subtlety. It +was characteristic of the man, in whom energy and action served him in +all crises. Alec had to be saved. The boy was standing at the brink +of a pit of moral destruction. He must be dragged back. But physical +force would be useless, for, in that direction, there was little if any +advantage on the side of the man who designed to save him. Kars had +won through the opportunities that were his. And he sat pondering his +success, and dreaming of the sweet gray eyes which had inspired his +effort, when Alec reached his apartment in fulfilment of his promise. + +It was a happy interview. It was far happier than Alec could have +believed possible, in view of his passionate regret at abandoning +Leaping Horse, and the woman, whose tremendous attractions had caught +his unsophisticated heart in her silken toils, for something +approaching a year. But then Kars was using all the strength of a +powerful, infectious personality in his effort. + +He listened to the boy's story of his love and regret with sympathy and +apparent understanding. He encouraged him wherever he sought +encouragement. He had a pleasantry of happy expression wherever it was +needed. In a word he played to the last degree upon a nature as weak +as it was simply honest. + +The net result was the final departure of Alec in almost buoyant mood +at the prospects opening out before him, and bearing in his pocket the +signed agreement, whereby, at the price of absolute secrecy, and a +year's supreme effort, he was to achieve everything he needed to lay at +the feet of a woman he believed to be the most perfect creature on +God's beautiful earth. + +Kars watched him go not without some misgivings, and his fears were +tritely expressed to Bill Brudenell, who joined him a few minutes later. + +"There's only one thing to unfix the things I've stuck together," he +said. "It's the--woman." + +And Bill's agreement added to his fears of the moment. + +"Sure. But you haven't figgered on--Pap." + +"Pap?" + +Bill nodded. + +"There's fourteen days. Pap's crazy mad about Maude and the boy. The +boy won't figger to quit things for fourteen days. If I'm wise he'll +boost all he needs into them. Well--there's Pap." + +Bill was looking on with both eyes wide open, as was his way. He had +put into a few words all he saw. And Kars beheld in perfect nakedness +the dangers to his plans. + +"We must get busy," was all he said, but there was a look of doubt in +his usually confident eyes. + +Maude lived in an elaborate house farther down the main street, and +Alec Mowbray was on his way thither. He had kept from Kars the fact +that his midday meal was to be taken with the woman who had now frankly +abandoned herself to an absorbing passion for the handsome youth from +the wilderness "inside." + +It was no unusual episode in the career of a woman of her class. On +the contrary, it was perhaps the commonest exhibition of her peculiar +disposition. Hundreds of such women, thousands, have flung aside +everything they have schemed and striven for, and finally achieved as +the price of all a woman holds sacred, for the sake of a sudden, +unbridled passion she is powerless to control. Perhaps "Chesapeake" +Maude understood her risks in a city of lawlessness, and in flinging +aside the protection of such a man as Pap Shaunbaum. Perhaps she did +not. But those who looked on, and they were a whole people of a city, +waited breathless and pulsating for the ensuing acts of what they +regarded as a human _comedy_. + +Alec, his slim, powerful young body clad in the orthodox garb of this +northern city, swung along down the slush-laden street, his thoughts +busy preparing his argument for the persuading of the woman who had +become the sun and centre of his life. He knew his difficulties, he +knew his own regrets. But the advantages both to her, and to him, +which Kars had cleverly pointed out, outweighed both. His mind was set +on persuading her. Nor did he question for a moment that for her, as +for him, the bond between them was an enduring love that would always +be theirs, and would adapt itself to their mutual advantage. The +northern wilderness was deeply bred in him. + +His way took him past Adler's Hotel, and, in a lucid moment, he +remembered that Murray was stopping there. An impulse made him pause +and look at his watch. It yet wanted half an hour to his appointment. +Yes, he would see if Murray were in. He must tell him of his purpose +to leave the city a while. It would be necessary to send word to his +mother, too. + +Murray was in. He was just contemplating food when he received Alec's +message. He sent down word for him to come up to his room, and waited. + +Murray McTavish was very much the same man of methodical business here +in Leaping Horse as the Fort knew him. The attractions of the city +left him quite untouched. His method of life seemed to undergo no +variation. A single purpose dominated him at all times. But that +purpose, whatever it might be, was his own. + +His room was by no means extravagant, such as was the room Alec +occupied at the Gridiron. Adler's Hotel boasted nothing of the +extravagance of either of the two leading hotels. But it was ample for +Murray's requirements. The usual bedroom furnishing was augmented by a +capacious writing desk, which was more or less usual throughout the +hotel. + +He was at his desk now, and his bulk filled the armchair to the limits +of its capacity. He pushed aside the work he had been engaged upon, +turned away from the desk, and awaited the arrival of his visitor. + +There was no smile in his eyes now, nor, which was more unusual, was +there any smile upon his gross features. His whole pose was +contemplative, and his dark, burning eyes shone deeply. + +But it was a different man who greeted the youth as the door was thrust +open. The smiling face was beaming welcome, and Murray gripped the +outstretched hand with a cordiality that was not intended to be +mistaken. + +"Sit right down, boy," he said. "You're around in time to eat with me. +But I'll chase up a cocktail." + +But Alec stayed him. + +"I just can't stay, Murray," he said hastily. "And I'm not needing a +cocktail just now. I was passing, and I thought I'd hand you the thing +I got in my mind, and get you to pass word on to my mother and Jessie." + +He took the proffered chair facing the window. Murray had resumed his +seat at the desk, which left him in the shadow. + +"Why, just anything you say," Murray returned heartily. "The plans?" + +The contrast between them left the trader overwhelmed. Alec, so tall, +so clean-cut and athletic of build. His handsome face so classically +molded. His fair hair the sort that any woman might rave over. +Murray, insignificant, except in bulk. But for his curious dark eyes +he must inevitably have been passed over without a second thought. + +Alec drew up his long legs in a movement that suggested unease. + +"Why, I can't tell you a thing worth hearing," he said, remembering his +bond. "It's just I'm quitting Leaping Horse in two weeks. I'm +quitting it a year, maybe." Then he added with a smile of greater +confidence, "I've hit a big play. Maybe it's going to hand me a pile. +Guess I'm looking for a big pile." Then he added with a cordial, happy +laugh, "Same as you." + +Murray's smile deepened if anything. + +"Why, boy, that's great," he exclaimed. "That's the greatest news +ever. Guess you couldn't have handed me anything I like better. As +for your mother, she'll be jumping. She wasn't easy to fix, letting +you get around here. You're going to make good. I'll hand her that +right away. I'm quitting. I'm getting back to the Fort in a few days. +That's bully news. Say, you're quitting in two weeks?" + +"Yep. Two weeks." + +Alec felt at ease again. He further appreciated Murray in that he did +not press any inquisition. + +They talked on for a few minutes on the messages Alec wished to convey +to his mother, and finally the boy rose to go. + +It was then that Murray changed from his attitude of delight to one of +deep gravity, which did not succeed in entirely obliterating his smile. + +"I was going to look you up if you hadn't happened along," he said +seriously. "I was talking to Wiseman last night. You know Wiseman, of +the Low Grade Hills Mine, out West? He's pretty tough. Josh Wiseman's +a feller I haven't a heap of use for, but he's worth a big roll, and +he's in with all the 'smarts' of Elysian Fields. Say, don't jump, or +get hot at what I'm going to say. I just want to put you wise." + +"Get right ahead," Alec said easily. He felt that his new relations +with Murray left him free to listen to anything he had to say. + +"Why, it's about Pap," Murray went on, deliberately. "And your news +about quitting's made me glad. Wiseman was half soused, but he made a +point of rounding me up. He wanted to hand me a notion he'd got in his +half-baked head. He said two 'gun-men' had come into the city, and +they'd come from 'Frisco because Pap had sent for them. He saw them +yesterday and recognized them both. Josh hails from 'Frisco, you see. +He handed his yarn to me to hand on to you. Get me? I don't know how +much there is to it. I can't figger if you need to worry any. But +Josh is a wise guy, as well as tough. Anyway, I'm glad you're +quitting." + +He held out a hand in warm cordiality, and Alec wrung it without a +shadow of concern. He laughed. + +"Why say, that's fine," he cried, his eyes shining recklessly. "If it +wasn't for that darn pile I'd stop right around here. If Pap gets +busy, why, there's going to be some play. I don't give a whoop for all +the Paps in creation. Nor for his 'gunmen' either." + +He was gone, and Murray was standing at his window gazing upon +surroundings of squalid shacks, the tattered fringe of the main street. +But he was not looking at these things. His thought was upon others +that had nothing to do with the mire of civilization in which he stood. +But he gave no sign, except that all his smile was swallowed up by the +fierce fires burning deep down in his dark eyes. + + +The dance hall revel at the Elysian Fields was in full swing. The +garish brilliancy of the scene was in fierce contrast with the night +which strove to hide the meanness prevailing beyond Pap Shaunbaum's +painted portals. The filthy street, the depth of slush, melting under +a driving rain, which was at times a partial sleet. The bleak, biting +wind, and the heavy pall of racing clouds. Then the huddled figures +moving to and fro. Nor were they by any means all seeking the +pleasures their money could buy. The "down-and-outs" shuffled through +the uncharitable city day and night, in rain, or sunshine, or snow. +But at night they resembled nothing so much as the hungry coyotes of +the open, seeking for that wherewith to fill their empty bellies. The +knowledge of these things only made the scenes of wanton luxury and +vice under the glare of light the more offensive. + +It was the third night of Alec Mowbray's last two weeks in Leaping +Horse. How he had fared in his settlement of affairs with the woman +who had taken possession of his moral being was not much concern of any +one but himself. Neither Kars nor Bill Brudenell had heard of any +contemplated change in his plans. They had not heard from him at all. + +Nor was this a matter for their great concern. Their concern was Pap +Shaunbaum and the passing of the days of waiting while their outfit was +being prepared at the camp ten miles distant from the city, for their +invasion of Bell River. They were watching out for the shadow of +possible disaster before the youth could be got away. + +Kars had verified the last detail of the situation in so far as the +proprietor of the Elysian Fields was concerned. Nor was he left with +any illusions. Pap had no intention of sitting down under this +terrible public and private hurt a boy from the "inside" had inflicted +upon him. The stories abroad were lurid in detail. It was said that +the storm which had raged in the final scene between Pap and his +mistress, when she quit the shelter he had provided for her for good, +had been terrible indeed. It was said he had threatened her life in a +moment of passion. It was said she had dared him to his face. It was +also said that he, the great "gunman," Pap, had groveled at her feet +like any callow school-youth. These things were open gossip, and each +repetition of the tales in circulation gained in elaboration of detail, +till all sorts of wild extravagances were accepted as facts. + +But Kars and Bill accepted these things at a calm valuation. The side +of the affair that they did not treat lightly was the certainty that +Pap would not sit down under the injury. They knew him. They knew his +record too well. Whatever jeopardy the woman stood in they were +certain of the danger to young Alec. Of this the stories going about +were precise and illuminating. Jack Beal, the managing director of the +Yukon Amalgam Corporation, and a great friend of John Kars, had spoken +with a certainty which carried deep conviction, coining from a man who +was one of the most important commercial magnates of the city. + +"Pap'll kill him sure," he said, in a manner of absolute conviction. +"Maybe he won't hand him the dose himself. That's not his way these +days. But the boy'll get his physic, and his folks best get busy on +his epitaph right away." + +The position was more than difficult. It was well-nigh impossible. +None knew better than Kars how little there was to be done. They could +wait and watch. That seemed to be about all. Warning would be +useless. It would be worse. The probable result of warning would be +to drive the hothead to some dire act of foolishness. Even to an open +challenge of the inscrutable Pap. Kars and Bill were agreed they dared +risk no such calamity. There were the police in Leaping Horse. But +the Mounted Police were equally powerless, until some breach was +actually committed. + +The interim of waiting was long. To Kars, those remaining days before +he could get Alec away were perhaps the longest and most anxious of his +life. For all the sweet eyes of Jessie were urging him on behalf of +her foolish brother, he felt utterly helpless. + +But neither he nor Bill remained idle. Their watch, their secret watch +over their charge, was prosecuted indefatigably. Every night saw them +onlookers of the scene on the dance-floor of the Elysian Fields. And +their vantage ground was the remote interior of one of the boxes. +Their purpose was simple. It was a certainty in their minds that Pap +would seek a public vengeance. Nor could he take it better than in his +own dance hall where Maude and Alec flouted him every night. Thus, if +their expectations were fulfilled, they would be on the spot to succor. +A watchful eye might even avert disaster. + +It was the third night of their watch. Nor was their vigil without +interest beyond its object. Bill, who knew by sight every frequenter +of the place, spent his time searching for newcomers. But newcomers +were scarce at this season of the year. The arrivals had not yet begun +from Seattle, and the "inside" was already claiming those who belonged +to it. Kars devoted himself to a distant watch on Pap Shaunbaum. +However the man's vengeance was to come, he felt that he must discover +some sign in him of its imminence. + +Pap was at his post amongst the crowd at the bar. His dark face hid +every emotion behind a perfect mask. He talked and smiled with his +customers, while his quick eyes kept sharp watch on the dancers. But +never once did he display any undue interest in the tall couple whose +very presence in his hall must have maddened him to a murderous pitch. + +The clatter of the bar was lost under the joyous strains of the +orchestra. Its pleasant quality drew forth frequent applause from the +light-hearted crowd. Many were there who had no thought at all for +that which they regarded as a _comedy_. Others again, like the men in +the box, watched every move, every shade of expression which passed +across the face of the Jewish proprietor. None knew for certain. But +all guessed. And the guess of everybody was of a denouement which +would serve the city with a topic of interest for at least a year. + +"It's thinner to-night." + +Bill spoke from the shadow of his curtain. + +"The gang?" Kars did not withdraw his gaze. + +"Sure. There's just one guy I don't know. But he don't look like +cutting any ice. He's half soused anyhow, with four bottles of wine on +the table between him and his dame. When he's through I don't think +he'll know the Elysian Fields from a steam thresher. That blond dame +of his looks like rolling him for his 'poke' without a worry. He'll +hit the trail for his claim to-morrow without the color of a dime." + +"Which is he?" Kars demanded, with a certain interest. + +"Why, right there by that table under the balcony. See that dude with +the greased head, and the five dollar nosegay in his coat. There, that +one with Sadie Long and the 'Princess.' Get the Princess with the +cream bow and her hair trailing same as it did when she was a child +forty years ago. Next that outfit." + +There was deep disgust in the doctor's tones, but there was something +like pity in his half-humorous eyes. + +"He hasn't even cleaned himself," he went on. "Looks like he's just +quit the drift bottom of a hundred foot shaft, and come right in full +of pay dirt all over him. Get his outfit. If you ran his pants +through a sluice-box you'd get an elegant 'color.' Guess even Pap +won't stand for him if he gets his eyes around his way." + +Kars offered no comment, but he was studying the half-drunken miner +closely. + +At that moment the orchestra struck up again. It was a two step, and +for once Alec and the beautiful Maude failed to make an appearance. + +"Where's the--kid?" said Kars sharply. + +"Sitting around, I guess." + +Bill craned carefully. Then he sat back. + +"See him?" demanded Kars. + +"Sure. They're together. A bottle of wine's keeping them busy." + +A look of impatience flashed into the eyes of Kars. His rugged face +darkened. + +"It's swinish!" he cried. "It's near getting my patience all out. +Wine. Wine and women. What devil threw his spell over the boy's +mother letting him quit her apron strings----" + +"Murray, I guess," interjected Bill. + +"Murray! Yes!" + +Kars relapsed into silence again. Nor did either of them speak again +till the music ceased. A vaudeville turn followed. A disgustingly +clad, bewigged soubrette murdered a rag time ditty in a rasping +soprano, displaying enough gold in her teeth to "salt" a barren claim. +No one gave her heed. The lilt of the orchestra elicited a fragmentary +chorus from the audience. For the rest the people pursued the +prescribed purpose of these intervals in the dance. + +Bill was regarding the stranger from the "inside." + +"He's not getting noisy drunk," he said. "Seems dopey. Guess she'll +hustle him off in a while." + +"You guess he's soused?" + +Kars' question startled his companion. + +"What d'you make it then?" + +"He hasn't taken a drink since you pointed him out. Nor has his dame." + +Both men continued to watch the mud-stained creature. Nor was he +particularly prepossessing, apart from his general uncleanness. His +shock of uncombed, dark hair grew low on his forehead. His dark eyes +were narrow. There was something artificial in his lounging attitude, +and the manner in which he was pawing the woman with him. + +"You guess he's acting drunk?" There was concern in Bill's voice. + +"Can't say for sure." + +The orchestra had started a waltz, and the new dance seemed to claim +all the dancers. Alec and Maude were one of the first couples to +appear. But the onlookers were watching the stranger. He had roused +up, and was talking to his woman. A few moments later they emerged +from their table to join the dancers. + +"Going to dance," Bill commented. "He sure looks soused." + +The man was swaying about as he moved. Kars' searching gaze missed +nothing. The couple began to dance. And for all the man's +unsteadiness it was clear he was a good, if reckless, dancer. The +sober gait of the other dancers, however, seemed unsuited to his taste, +and he began to sweep through the crowd with long racing strides which +his woman could scarcely keep pace with. + +Kars stood up. + +"He'll get thrown out," said Bill. "Pap won't stand for that play. +He'll tear up the floor with his nailed boots." + +The man had swept round the hall, and he and his partner were lost +under the balcony beneath the box in which the "onlookers" were sitting. + +In a moment a cry came up from beneath them in a woman's voice. +Another second and a chorus of men's angry voices almost drowned the +music. The men in the orchestra were craning, and broad smiles lit +some of their faces. Other dancers had come to a halt. They, too, +were gazing with varying expressions of inquiry and curiosity, but none +with any display of alarm. + +"He's boosted into some one," said Bill. + +A babel of voices came up from below. They were deep with fierce +protest. The trouble was gaining in seriousness. Kars leaned out of +the box. He could see nothing of what was going on. He abruptly drew +back, and turned to his companion. + +"Say----" + +But his words remained unuttered. He was interrupted by a violent +shout from below. + +"You son-of-a----!" + +Bill's hand clutched at Kars' muscular arm. + +"That's the kid! Quick! Come on!" + +They started for the door of the box. But, even as the doctor gripped +and turned the handle, the sequel to such an epithet in a place like +Leaping Horse came. Two shots rang out. Then two more followed on the +instant. + +In a moment every light in the place was put out and pandemonium +reigned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DR. BILL INVESTIGATES + +All that had been feared by the two men in the box had come to pass. +It had come with a swiftness, a sureness incomparable. It had come +with a mercilessness which those who knew him regarded as only to be +expected in a man of Pap Shaunbaum's record. + +Accustomed to an atmosphere very little removed from the lawless, the +panic and pandemonium that reigned in the dark was hardly to have been +expected on the part of the frequenters of the Elysian Fields. But it +was the sudden blacking out of the scene which had wrought on the +nerves. It was the doubt, the fear of where the next shots might come, +which sent men and women, shrieking and shouting, stampeding for the +doors which led to the hotel. + +Never had the dance hall at the Elysian Fields so quickly cleared of +its revelers. The crush was terrible. Women fell and were trampled +under foot. It was only their men who managed to save them from +serious disaster. Fortunately the light in the hotel beyond the doors +became a beacon, and, in minutes only, the human tide, bedraggled and +bruised, poured out from the darkness of disaster to the glad light +which helped to restore confidence and a burning curiosity. + +But curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for that night at least. The +doors were slammed in the faces of those who sought to return, and the +locks were turned, and the bolts were shot upon them. The excited +crowd was left to melt away as it chose, or stimulate its shaking +nerves at the various bars open to it. + +Meanwhile John Kars and Bill Brudenell fumbled their way to the floor +below. The uncertainty, the possible danger, concerned them in nowise. +Alec was in the shooting. They might yet be in time to save him. This +thought sent them plunging through the darkness regardless of +everything but their objective. + +As they reached the floor they heard the sharp tones of Pap echoing +through the darkened hall. + +"Fasten every darn door," he cried. "Don't let any of those guys get +back in. Guess the p'lice'll be along right away. Turn up the lights." + +The promptness with which his orders were obeyed displayed something of +the man. It displayed something more to the two hurrying men. It +suggested to both their minds that the whole thing had been prepared +for. Perhaps even the employees of this man were concerned in their +chief's plot. + +As the full light blazed out again it revealed the bartenders still +behind the bar. It showed two men at the main doors, and another at +each of the other entrances. Furthermore, it revealed the drop curtain +lowered on the stage, and the orchestra men peering questioningly, and +not without fearful glances, over the rail which barred them from the +polished dance floor. + +Besides these things Pap Shaunbaum was hurrying across the hall. His +mask-like face displayed no sign of emotion. Not even concern. He was +approaching two huddled figures lying amidst a lurid splash of their +own blood. They were barely a yard from each other, and their position +was directly beneath the floor of the box which the "onlookers" had +occupied. + +The three men converged at the same moment. It was the sight of John +Kars and Dr. Bill that brought the first sign of emotion to Pap's face. + +"Say, this is hell!" he cried. Then, as the doctor knelt beside the +body of Alec Mowbray, the back of whose head, with its tangled mass of +blood-soaked hair, was a great gaping cavity: "He's out. That pore +darn kid's out--sure. Say, I wouldn't have had it happen for ten +thousand dollars." + +"No." + +It was Kars who replied. Dr. Bill was examining the body of the man +whose clothing was stained with the auriferous soil of his claim. + +Two guns were lying on the floor beside the bodies. Pap moved as +though to pick one up. Kars' hand fell on his outstretched arm. + +"Don't touch those," he said. "Guess they're for the police." + +Pap straightened up on the instant. His dark eyes shot a swift glance +into the face of the man he had for years desired to come into closer +contact with. It was hardly a friendly look. It was questioning, too. + +"They'll be around right away. I 'phoned 'em." + +Kars nodded. + +"Good." + +Bill looked up. + +"Out. Right out. Both of them. Guess we best wait for the police." + +"Can't they be removed?" Pap's eyes were on the doctor. + +Kars took it upon himself to reply. + +"Not till the p'lice get around." + +But Pap would not accept the dictation. + +"That so, Doc?" he inquired, ignoring Kars. + +"That's so," said Bill, with an almost stern brevity. Then, in a +moment, the Jew's face flushed under his dark skin. + +"The darn suckers!" he cried. "This'll cost me thousands of dollars. +It'll drive trade into the Gridiron fer weeks. If I'd been wise to +that bum being soused he'd have gone out, if he broke his lousy neck." + +"I'm not dead sure he was soused," said Kars. + +The cold tone of his voice again brought Pap's eyes to his face. + +"What d'you guess?" he demanded roughly. + +"He wasn't a miner, and he wasn't soused. I guess he was a 'gunman.'" + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Just what I said. I'd been watching him a while from the box above +us. I've seen enough to figger this thing's for the p'lice. We're +going to put this thing through for what it's worth, and my bank roll's +going to talk plenty." + +Bill had risen from his knees. He was standing beyond the two bodies. +His shrewd eyes were steadily regarding Pap, who, in turn, was gazing +squarely into the cold eyes of John Kars. + +Just for a moment it looked as though he were about to fling back hot +words at the unquestioned challenge in them. But the light suddenly +died out of his eyes. His thin lips compressed, and he shrugged his +shoulders. + +"Guess that's up to you," he said, and moved away towards the bar. + +Kars gazed down at the dead form of Alec Mowbray. All the coldness had +gone out of his eyes. It had been replaced with a world of pity, for +which no words of his could have found expression. The spectacle was +terrible, and the sight of it filled him with an emotion which no sight +of death had ever before stirred. He was thinking of the widowed +mother. He was thinking of the girl whose gray eyes had taught him so +much. He was wondering how he must carry the news to these two living +souls, and fling them once more to the depths of despair such as they +had endured through the murder of a husband and father. + +He was aroused from his grievous meditations by a sharp hammering on +the main doors. It was the police. Kars turned at once. + +"Open that door!" he said sharply to the waiter standing beside it. + +The man hesitated and looked at Pap. Kars would not be denied. + +"Open that door," he ordered again, and moved towards it. + +The man obeyed on the instant. + + +It was two days before the investigation into the tragedy at the +Elysian Fields released Dr. Bill. Being on the spot, and being one of +the most skilful medical men in Leaping Horse, the Mounted Police had +claimed him, a more than willing helper. + +In two issues the Leaping Horse _Courier_ had dared greatly, +castigating the morality of the city, and the Elysian Fields in +particular, under "scare" headlines. For two days the public found no +other topic of conversation, and the "shooting" looked like serving +them indefinitely. They had been waiting for this thing to happen. +They had been given all they desired to the full. A hundred witnesses +placed themselves at the disposal of the Mounted Police, and at least +seventy-five per cent of them were more than willing to incriminate Pap +Shaunbaum if opportunity served. + +Nor was John Kars idle during that time. His attorneys saw a good deal +of him, and, as a result, a campaign to track down the instigator of +this shooting was inaugurated. And that instigator was, without a +shadow of doubt,--Pap Shaunbaum. + +Kars saw nothing of Bill during those two days of his preoccupation. +But the second morning provided him with food for serious reflection. +It was a brief note which reached him at noon. It was an urgent demand +that he should take no definite action through his legal advisers, +should take no action at all, in fact, until he, Bill, had seen him, +and conveyed to him the results of the investigation. He would +endeavor to see him that night. + +Kars studied the position carefully. But he committed himself to no +change of plans. He simply left the position as it stood for the +moment, and reserved judgment. + +It was late at night when Bill made his appearance. Kars was waiting +in his apartment with what patience he could. He had spent a busy day +on his own mining affairs, which usually had the effect of wearying +him. For the last two or three years the commercial aspect of his +mining interests came very nearly boring him. It was only the sheer +necessity of the thing which drove him to the offices of the various +corporations he controlled. + +But the sight of his friend banished every other consideration from his +mind. The shooting of Alec Mowbray dominated him, just as, for the +present, it dominated the little world of Leaping Horse. + +He thrust a deep chair forward in eager welcome, and looked on with +grave, searching eyes while the doctor flung himself into it with a +deep, unaffected sigh of weariness. + +"Guess I haven't had a minute, John," he said. "Those police fellers +are drivers. Say, we always reckon they're a bright crowd. You need +to see 'em at work to get a right notion. They've got most things beat +before they start." + +"This one?" + +Kars settled himself in a chair opposite his visitor. His manner was +that of a man prepared to listen rather than talk. He stretched his +long legs comfortably. + +"I said 'most.' No-o, not this one. That's the trouble. That's why I +wrote you. The police are asking a question. And they've got to find +an answer. Who fired the shots that shut out that boy's lights?" + +Kars' brows were raised. An incredulous look searched the other's face. + +"Why, that 'gunman'--surely." + +Bill shook his head. He had been probing a vest pocket. Now he +produced a small object, and handed it across to the other with a keen +demand. + +"What's that?" His eyes were twinkling alertly. + +Kars took the object and examined it closely under the electric light. +After a prolonged scrutiny he handed it back. + +"The bullet of a 'thirty-two' automatic," he said. + +"Sure. Dead right. The latest invention for toughs to hand out murder +with. The police don't figger there's six of them in Leaping Horse." + +"I brought one with me this trip. They're quick an' handy. But--that?" + +"That?" Bill held the bullet poised, gazing at it while he spoke. "I +dug that out of that boy's lung. There's another of 'em, I guess. The +police have that. They dug theirs out of the woodwork right behind +where young Alec was standing. It was that opened his head out. Those +two shots handed him his dose. And the other feller--why, the other +feller was _armed with a forty-five Colt_." + +There was nothing dramatic in the manner of the statement. Bill spoke +with all his usual calm. He was merely stating the facts which had +been revealed at the investigation. + +Kars' only outward sign was a stirring of his great body. The +significance had penetrated deeply. He realized the necessity of his +friend's note. + +Bill went on. + +"If we'd only seen it all," he regretted. "If we'd seen the shots +fired, we'd have been a deal wiser. I'm figgering if we hadn't quit +our seats we'd have been wise--much wiser. But we quit them, and it's +no use figgering that way. The police have been reconstructing. +They're reconstructing right now. There's a thing or two stands right +out," he went on reflectively. "And they're mostly illuminating. +First Alec was quicker with his gun than the other feller. He did that +'gunman' up like a streak of lightning. He didn't take a chance. +Where he learned his play I can't think. There was a dash of his +father in what he did. And he'd have got away with it if--it hadn't +been for the automatic from somewhere else. The 'gunman' drew on him +first. That's clear. A dozen folk saw it. He'd boosted Alec and his +dame in the dance, and stretched Maude on the floor. And he did it +because he meant to. It was clumsy--which I guess was meant, too. I +don't reckon it looked like anything but a dance hall scrap. That's +where we see Pap in it. The 'gunman' got his dose in the pit of his +bowels, and a hole in his heart, while his own shots went wide, and +spoiled some of the gold paint in the decorations. The police tracked +out both bullets that came from his gun. But the automatic?" + +He drew a deep breath pregnant with regret. + +"It came from a distant point," he went on, after a pause. "There's +folks reckon it came from one of the boxes opposite where we were +sitting. How it didn't get some of the crowd standing around keeps me +guessing. The feller at the end of that gun was an--artist. He was a +jewel at the game. And it wasn't Pap. That's as sure as death. Pap +was standing yarning to a crowd at the bar when all the shots were +fired. And the story's on the word of folks who hate him to death. We +can't locate a soul who saw any other gun pulled. I'd say Pap's got +Satan licked a mile. + +"Say, John," he went on, after another pause, "it makes this thing look +like a sink without any bottom for the dollars you reckon to hand out +chasing it up. The boy's out. And Pap's tracks--why, they just don't +exist. That's all. It looks like we've got to stand for this play the +same as we have to stand for most things Pap and his gang fancy doing. +I'm beat to death, and--sore. Looks like we're sitting around like two +sucking kids, and we can't do a thing--not a thing." + +"But there's talk of two 'gunmen.'" Kars was sitting up. His attitude +displayed the urgency of his thought. "The folks all got it. I've had +it all down the sidewalk." + +His emotions were deeply stirred. They were displayed in the mounting +flush under his weather-stained cheeks. In the hot contentiousness of +his eyes. He was leaning forward with his feet tucked beneath his +chair. + +"Sure you have. So have I. So have the police." Bill's reply came +after a moment's deliberation. "Josh Wiseman handed that out. Josh +reckons he's seen them, and recognized them. But Josh is a big souse. +He's seeing things 'most all the time. He figgers the feller young +Alec shot up was one of them--by name Peter Hara, of 'Frisco. The +other, we haven't seen, he reckons is 'Hand-out' Lal. Another 'Frisco +bum. But the police have had the wires going, and they can't track +fellers of that name in 'Frisco, or anywhere else. Still, it's a trail +they're hanging to amongst others. And I guess they're not quitting it +till they figger Josh is right for the bughouse. No," he added with a +trouble that would no longer be denied, "the whole thing is, Pap's +clear. There's not a thing points his way. It's the result of a dance +hall brawl, and we--why, we've just got to hand on the whole pitiful +racket to two lone women at the Fort." + +For moments the two men looked into each other's eyes. Then Kars +started up. He began to pace the soft carpet with uneven strides. + +Suddenly he paused. His emotions seemed to be again under control. + +"It seems that way," he said, "unless Murray starts out before us." + +"Murray's quit," Bill shook his head. "He'd quit the city before this +thing happened. The morning of the same day. His whole outfit pulled +out with him. He doesn't know a thing of this." + +"I didn't know he'd quit." Kars stood beside the centre table gazing +down at the other. + +"The police looked him up. They wanted to hold up the news from the +boy's folks till they'd investigated. He'd been gone twenty-four +hours." + +"I hadn't a notion," Kars declared blankly. "I figgered to run him +down at Adler's." Then in a moment his feelings overcame his +restraint. "Then it's up to--me," he cried desperately. "It's up to +me, and it--scares me to death. Say--that poor child. That poor +little gal." Again he was pacing the room. "It's fierce, Bill! Oh, +God, it's fierce!" + +Bill's gravely sympathetic eyes watched the rapid movements of the man +as he paced restlessly up and down. He waited for that calmness which +he knew was sure to follow in due course. When he spoke his tones had +gathered a careful moderation. + +"Sure it's fierce," he said. Then he added: "Murray drives hard on the +trail. This story isn't even going to hit against his heels. Say, +John, you best let me hand this story on. Y'see my calling makes it +more in my line. A doctor's not always healing. There's times when +he's got to open up wounds. But he knows how to open 'em." + +"Not on your life, Bill!" Kars' denial came on the instant. "I'm not +shirking a thing. I just love that child to death. It's up to me. +Some day I'm hoping it's coming my way handing her some sort of +happiness. That being so I kind of feel she's got to get the other +side of things through me. God knows it's going to be tough for her, +poor little kid, but well, it's up to me to help her through." + +There was something tremendously gentle in the man's outburst. He was +so big. There was so much force in his manner. And yet the infinite +tenderness of his regard for the girl was apparent in every shadow of +expression that escaped him. + +Bill understood. But for once the position was reversed. The doctor's +kindly, twinkling eyes seemed to have absorbed all that which usually +looked out of the other's. They were calm, even hard. There was +bitter anger in them. His mellow philosophy had broken down before the +human feelings so deeply stirred. He had passed the lover's feelings +over for a reversion to the tragedy at the Elysian Fields. It was the +demoniac character of the detested Pap Shaunbaum. It was the hideous +uselessness of it all. It was the terrible viciousness of this leper +city which had brought the whole thing about. + +But was it? His mind went further back. There was another tragedy, +equally wanton, equally ferocious. The father as well as the son, and +he marveled, and wondered at the purpose of Providence in permitting +such a cruel devastation of the lives of two helpless, simple women. + +His sharp tones broke the silence. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "this thing needs to be hunted down, John. It +needs to be hunted down till the 'pound's' paid. Those two lone women +are my best friends. Guess they're something more to you. I can't see +daylight. I can't see where it's coming from, anyway. But some one's +got to get it. And we need a hand in passing it to him, whoever it is. +I feel just now there wouldn't be a thing in the world more comic to me +than to see Pap Shaunbaum kicking daylight with his vulture neck tied +up. And I'd ask no better of Providence than to make it so I could +laugh till my sides split. It's going to mean dollars an' dollars, and +time, and a big work. But if we don't do it, why, Pap gets away with +his play. We can't stand for that. My bank roll's open." + +"It doesn't need to be." All the gentleness had passed from Kars' +eyes, from his whole manner. It had become abrupt again. "Guess money +can't repay those poor folks' losses. But it can do a deal to boost +justice along. It's my money that's going to talk. I'm going to wipe +out the score those lone women can never hope to. I'm going to pay it. +By God, I'm going to pay it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN THE SPRINGTIME + +So the day came when the outfit of John Kars "pulled out." There had +been no change in his plans as the result of Alec Mowbray's murder. +There could be no change in them, so long as hundreds of miles divided +this man from the girl who had come to mean for him all that life +contained. The old passion for the trail still stirred him. The +Ishmaelite in him refused to change his nature. But since his manhood +had responded to natural claims, since the twin gray stars had risen +upon his horizon, a magnetic power held him to a definite course which +he had neither power nor inclination to deny. + +The days before the departure had been busy indeed. They had been +rendered doubly busy by the affairs surrounding Alec Mowbray's death. +But all these things had been dealt with, with an energy that left a +course of perfect smoothness behind as well as ahead. + +Everything, humanly possible, would be done to hunt down the instigator +and perpetrator of the crime, and a small fortune was placed at the +disposal of Kars' trusted attorneys for that purpose. For the rest he +would be personally responsible. In Bill Brudenell he had a willing +and sagacious lieutenant. In Abe Dodds, and in the hard-living expert +prospector, Joe Saunders, he had a staff for his enterprise on Bell +River beyond words in capacity and loyalty. + +But the "outfit." It was called "outfit," as were all such +expeditions. It resembled an army in miniature, white and colored. +But more than all else it resembled a caravan, and an extensive one. +The preparations had occupied the whole of the long winter, and had +been wrapped in profound secrecy. The two men who had carried them +out, under Bill Brudenell's watchful eye, had labored under no +delusions. They were preparing for a great adventure in the hunt for +gold, but they were also preparing for war on no mean scale. Their +enthusiasm rejoiced in both of these prospects, and they worked with an +efficiency that left nothing to be desired. + +The dispositions at departure were Kars' secret. Nor were they known +until the last moment. The warlike side of the expedition was +dispatched in secret by an alternative and more difficult trail than +the main communication with Fort Mowbray. It carried the bulk of +equipment. But its way would be shorter, and it would miss Fort +Mowbray altogether, and take up its quarters at the headwaters of Snake +River, to await the coming of the leaders. Abe and Saunders would +conduct this expedition, while Kars and Bill traveled via Fort Mowbray, +with Peigan Charley, and an outfit of packs and packmen such as it was +their habit to journey with. + +The start of the expedition was without herald or trumpet. It left its +camp in the damp of a gray spring morning, when, under cover of a +gradually lightening dawn, it struck through a narrow valley, where +feet and hoofs sank deep into a mire of liquid mud. + +To the west the hills rose amidst clouds of saturating mist. To the +east the rolling country mounted slowly till it reached the foot of +vast glacial crests, almost at the limit of human vision. The purpling +distance to the west suggested fastnesses remote enough from the +northern man, yet in those deep canyons, those wide valleys, along +creek-bank and river bed, the busy prospector was ruthlessly +prosecuting his quest for the elusive "color," and the mining engineer +was probing for Nature's most deeply hidden secrets. + +This was the Eldorado John Kars had known since his boyhood's days, +when the fierce fight against starvation had been bitter indeed. Few +of the secrets of those western hills were unknown to him. But now +that his pouch was full, and the pangs of hunger were only a remote +memory, and these hills claimed him only that he was lord of properties +within their heart which yielded him fortune almost automatically, his +eyes were turned to the north, and to the hidden world eastwards. + +It was a trail of mud and washout. It was a trail of landslide and +flood. It was a dripping land, dank with melting mists, and awash with +the slush of the thaw. The skies were pouring out their flood of +summer promise, those warming rains which must always be endured before +the hordes of flies and mosquitoes swarm to announce the real open +season. + +But these men were hard beyond all complaint at physical discomfort. +If they cursed the land they haunted, it was because it was their habit +so to curse. It was the curse of the tongue rather than of the heart. +For they were men who owed all that they were, or ever hoped to be, to +this fierce country north of "sixty." + + +Spring was over all. The northern earth was heaving towards awakening +from its winter slumber. As it was on the trail, so it was on Snake +River, where the old black walls of Fort Mowbray gazed out upon the +groaning and booming glacial bed, burying the dead earth beyond the +eyes of man. The fount of life was renewing itself in man, in beast, +even in the matter we choose to regard as dead. + +Jessie Mowbray was watching the broken ice as it swept on down the +flooding river. She was clad in an oilskin which had only utility for +its purpose. Her soft gray eyes were gazing out through the gently +falling rain with an awe which the display of winter's break up never +failed to inspire in her. + +The tremendous power of Nature held her spellbound. It was all so +vast, so sure. She had witnessed these season's changes since her +childhood and never in her mind had they sunk to the level of routine. +They were magical transformations wrought by the all-powerful fairy, +Nature. They were performed with a wave of the wand. The iron of +winter was swept away with a rush, and the stage was instantly set for +summer. + +But the deepest mystery to her was the glacier beyond the river. Every +spring she listened to its groaning lamentation with the same feelings +stirring. Her gentle spirit saw in it a monster, a living, moving, +heaving monster, whose voice awoke the echoes of the hills in protest, +and whose enveloping folds clung with cruel tenacity to a conquered +territory laboring to free itself from a bondage of sterility which it +had borne for thousands of years. To her it was like the powers of +Good battling with influences of Evil. It was as though each year, +when the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, these powers of Good +were seeking vainly to overthrow an evil which threatened the tiny +human seed planted in the world for the furthering of an All-wise +Creator's great hidden purpose. + +The landing was almost awash with the swollen waters. The booming +ice-floes swept on. They were moving northwards, towards the eternal +ice-fields, to melt or jamb on their way, but surely to melt in the +end. And when they had all gone it would be summer. And life--life +would be renewed at the post. + +Renewal of the life at the post meant only one thing for Jessie. It +meant the early return of John Kars. The thought of it thrilled her. +But the thrill passed. For she knew his coming only heralded his +passing on. + +She sighed and her soft eyes grew misty. Nor had the mist to do with +the rain which was saturating the world about her. Oh, if there were +to be no passing on! But she knew she could not hope for so much. +There was nothing for him here. Besides, he was wedded to the secrets +of the long trail. + +Wedded! Her moment, of regret passed, and a great dream filled her +simple mind. It was her woman's dream of all that could ever crown her +life. It was the springtime of her life and all the buoyant hope of +the break from a dead winter was stirring in her young veins. She put +from her mind the "passing on," and remembered only that he would soon +return. + +Her heart was full of a gentle delight as at last she turned back from +the river, and sought her home in the clearing. + +Her eyes were shining radiantly when she encountered Father Jose +passing over to his Mission from his ministrations to a sick squaw. + +"Been watching the old ice go?" he inquired, smiling into the eyes +which looked into his from under the wide brim of a waterproof hat. + +Jessie nodded. + +"It's spring--isn't it?" she said smiling. + +Her reply summed up her whole mood. The priest understood. + +"Surely. And it's good to see the spring, my child. It's good for +everybody, young and old. But," he added with a sigh, "it's specially +good for us up here. The Indians die like flies in winter. But your +mother's asking for you." + +The girl hurried on. Perhaps second to her love for John Kars came her +affection for her brave mother. + +Ailsa Mowbray met her at the threshold. + +"Murray's asking for you," she said, in her simply direct fashion. +"He's got plans and things he needs to fix. He told me this morning, +but I guess he needs to explain them himself. Will you go along up to +the Fort?" + +There was nothing in the mother's manner to invite the quick look of +doubt which her words inspired. + +Murray had only arrived from Leaping Horse two days before. Since that +time he had been buried under an avalanche of arrears of work. Even +his meals had had to be sent up to him at the Fort. He had brought +back reports of Alec's well-being for the mother and sister. He had +brought back all that abounding good-nature and physical and mental +energy which dispelled the last shadows of winter loneliness from these +women. Ailsa Mowbray had carried on the easy work of winter at the +store, but she was glad of the relief from responsibility which +Murray's return gave her. + +But he had laid before her the necessity of a flying visit up country +at once, and had urged her to again carry on the store duties in his +absence. Furthermore he had suggested that Jessie's assistance should +be enlisted during his absence, since Alec was away, and the work would +be heavier now that spring was opening. + +The mother had reluctantly agreed. For herself she had been willing +enough. But for Jessie she had stipulated that he should place the +matter before her himself. She had no desire that the one child +remaining to her should be made to slave her days at the Fort. She +would use none of her influence. Her whole interest in the trade which +had been her life for so long was waning. There were times when she +realized, in the loneliness which had descended upon them with Alec's +going, that only habit kept her to the life, and even that held her +only by the lightest thread. It was coming to her that the years were +passing swiftly. The striving of the days at the side of her idolized +husband had seemed not only natural, but a delight to her. Since his +cruel end no such feeling had stirred her. There were her children, +and she had realized that the work must go on for them. But now--now +that Alec had gone to the world outside her whole perspective had +changed. And with the change had come the realization of rapidly +passing years. + +There were times, even, when she speculated as to how and where she +could set up a new home for her children. A home with which Alec could +find no fault, and Jessie might have the chances due to her age. But +these things were kept closely to herself. The habit of years was +strong upon her, and, for all her understanding of her wealth, it was +difficult to make a change. + +"Can't you tell me, mother? I'd rather have you explain!" + +The likeness between mother and daughter was very strong. Even in the +directness with which they expressed their feelings. Jessie's feelings +were fully displayed in the expression of her preference. + +"Why don't you want to see Murray?" + +The mother's question came on the instant. It came with a suggestion +of reproach. + +"Oh, I'm not scared, mother," the girl smiled. "Only I don't just see +why Murray should ask me things you don't care to ask me. That's all." + +"Is it?" The mother's eyes were searching. + +"Nearly." + +Jessie laughed. + +"Best tell me the rest." + +The girl shook her head decidedly. + +"No, mother. There's no need. You're wiser than you pretend. +Murray's a better friend and partner--in business--than anything else. +Guess we best leave it that way." + +"Yes, it's best that way." The mother was regarding the pretty face +before her with deep affection. "But I told Murray he'd have to lay +his plans before you--himself. That's why he wants to see you up at +the Fort." + +The girl's response came at once, and with an impulsive readiness. + +"Then I'll go up, right away," she said. Nor was there the smallest +display of any of the reluctance she really felt. + + +The girl stood framed in the great gateway of the old stockade. The +oilskin reached almost to her slim ankles. It was dripping and the hat +of the same material which almost entirely enveloped her ruddy brown +head was trailing a stream of water on to her shoulders. + +Murray McTavish saw her from the window of his office. He saw her +pause for a few moments and gaze out at the distant view. He +remembered seeing her stand so once before. He remembered well. He +remembered her expressed fears, and all that which had happened +subsequently. The smile on his round face was the same smile it had +been then. Perhaps it was a smile he could not help. + +This time he made no move to join her. He waited. And presently she +turned and passed round to the door of the store. + +"Mother said you wanted to see me about something. Something you +needed to explain--personally. That so?" + +Jessie was standing beside the trader's desk. She was looking down +squarely into the man's smiling face. There was a curious fearlessness +in her regard that was not quite genuine. There was a brusquerie in +her manner that would not have been there had there been any one else +present. + +She removed the oilskin hat, and laid it aside on a chair as she spoke, +and the revelation of her beautiful chestnut hair, and its contrast +with her gray eyes, quickened the man's pulses. He was thinking of her +remarkable beauty even as he spoke. + +"Say, it's good of you to come along. You best shed that oilskin." + +He rose from his desk to assist. But the girl required none of his +help. She slipped out of the garment before he could reach her. He +accepted the situation, and drew forward the chair from the desk at +which Alec had been wont to work. + +"You'll sit," he said, as he placed it for her. + +But Murray's consideration and politeness had no appeal for Jessie. +She was anxious to be done with the interview. + +"That's all right," she said, with a short laugh. "The old hill +doesn't tire me any. I got the school in an hour, so, maybe, you'll +tell me about things right away." + +"Ah, there's the school, and there's a heap of other things that take +your time." Murray had returned to his desk, and Jessie deliberately +moved to the window. "It's those things made me want to talk to you. +I was wondering how you could fix them so you could hand us a big piece +of time up here." + +"You want me to work around the store?" + +The girl had turned. Her questioning eyes were regarding him steadily. +There was no unreality about her manner now. Murray's smile would have +been disarming had she not been so used to it. + +"Just while I'm--away." + +There was the smallest possible twist of wryness to the man's lips as +he admitted to himself the necessity for the final words. + +"I see." + +The girl's relief was so obvious that, for a moment, the man's gaze +became averted. + +Perhaps Jessie was unaware of the manner in which she had revealed her +feelings. Perhaps she knew, and had even calculated it. Much of her +mother's courage was hers. + +"You'd better make it plain--what you want. Exactly. If it's in the +interest of things, why, I'll do all I know." + +Murray's remarkable eyes were steadily regarding her again. His +mechanical smile had changed its character. It was spontaneous now. +But its spontaneity was without any joy. + +"Oh, it's in the interest of--things, or I wouldn't ask it," he said. +"Y'see," he went on, "I got right back home here to get news of things +happening north that want looking into. I've got to pull right away +before summer settles down good, and get back again. That being so it +sets everything on to your mother's shoulders--with Alec away. Your +mother's good grit. We couldn't find her equal anywhere when it comes +to handling this proposition. But she doesn't get younger. And it +kind of seems tough on her." He sighed, and his eyes had sobered to a +look of real trouble. "Y'see, Jessie, she's a great woman. She's a +mother I'd have been proud to call my own. But she's yours, and that's +why I'm asking that you'll weigh in and help her out--the time I'm +away. It's not a lot when you see your mother getting older every day, +is it? 'Specially such a mother. She's too big to ask you herself. +That's her way. It makes me feel bad when I get back to find her doing +and figgering at this desk when she ought to be sitting around at her +ease after all she's done in the past. It's that, or get white help in +from down south. And it don't seem good getting white help in, not +while we can keep this outfit going ourselves. There's things don't +need getting 'outside,' or likely we'll get a rush of whites that'll +leave us no better than a bum trading post of the past. It wouldn't be +good for us sitting around at this old post, not earning a grub stake, +while other folks were eating the--fruit we'd planted." + +The girl had remained beside the window the whole time he was talking. +But her eyes were on him, and she was filled with wonder, and not +untouched by the feeling he was displaying. This was a side to his +character she had never witnessed before. It astounded. But it also +searched every generous impulse she possessed. + +Her answer came on the instant. + +"You don't need to say another word," she cried. "Nothing matters so I +can help mother out. I know there's secrets and things. I've every +reason to know there are. The good God knows I've reason enough. We +all have. What those secrets are I can only guess, and I don't want +even to do that--now. I hate them, and wish they'd never been." + +"Your mother would never have been the wealthy woman she is without +them." + +"No, and I'd be glad if that were so." + +There was a world of passionate sincerity in the girl's denial. It +came straight from her heart. The loss of a father could find no +compensation in mere wealth. She understood the grasping nature of +this man. She understood that commercial success stood out before +everything in his desires. + +Her moment of more kindly feeling towards him passed, and a breath of +winter chilled her warm young heart. + +"Would you?" + +The man's smile had returned once more. His questioning eyes had a +subtle irony in their burning depths. + +"Sure. A thousand times I'd have us be just struggling traders as we +once were. Then I'd have my daddy with us, and mother would be the +happy woman I've always remembered her--before those secrets." + +The man stirred with a movement almost of irritation. + +"There's things I can't just see, child," he said, with a sort of +restrained impatience. "You're talking as if you guessed life could be +controlled at the will of us folk. You guess your father could have +escaped his fate, if he'd left our trade on Bell River alone. Maybe he +could, on the face of things. But could he have escaped acting the way +he acted? Could any of us? We all got just so much nature. That +nature isn't ours to cut about and alter into the shape we fancy. What +that nature says 'do,' we just got to do. Your nature's telling you to +get around and help your mother out. My nature says get busy and see +to things up north. Well, a landslide, or a blizzard, or any old thing +might put me out of business on the way. A storm, or fire might cost +you your life right here in this Fort. It's the chances of life. And +it's the nature of us makes us take the chances. We just got to work +on the way we see, and we can't see diff'rent--at will. If we could +see diff'rent at will, there's a whole heap I'd have changed in my +life. There's many things I'd never have done, and many things I +figger to do wouldn't be done. But I see the way I was born, and I +don't regret a thing--not a thing--except the shape Providence made me. +I'm going to live--not die--a rich man, doing the things I fancy, if +Life don't figger to put me out of business. And I don't care a curse +what it costs. It's how I'm born, and it's the nature of me demands +these things. I'm going to do all I've set my mind to do, and I'll do +it with my last kick, if necessary. Do you understand me? That's why +I'm glad of those secrets we're talking of. That's why I'll work to +the last to hold 'em. That's why I don't mean to let things stand in +my way that can be shifted. That's why I'm asking you to help us get +busy. Our interests I guess are your interests." + +It was another revelation of the man such as Jessie had had at +intervals before, and which had somehow contrived to tacitly antagonize +her. Her nature was rebelling against the material passion of this +man. There was something ruthlessly sordid underlying all he said. + +"I'm glad it doesn't need those feelings to make me want to help my +mother," she said quietly. "Interests? Say, interests of that sort +don't matter a thing for me. Thought of them won't put an ounce more +into the work I'll do to help--my mother. But she counts, and what you +said about her is all you need say. The other talk--is just talk." + +"Is it?" The man had risen from his chair. Jessie surveyed him with +cool measuring eyes. His podgy figure was almost ludicrous in her +eyes. His round, fleshy face became almost contemptible. But not +quite. He was part of her life, and then those eyes, so strange, so +baffling. So alive with an intelligence which at times almost +overwhelmed her. + +"It isn't just talk, Jessie," he said approaching her, till he, too, +stood in the full light of the window. "Maybe you don't know it, but +your interests are just these interests I'm saying. It'll come to you +the moment you want to do a thing against 'em. Oh, I'm not bullying, +my dear. I'll show you just how. If a moment came in your life when +you figgered to carry out something that appealed to you, and your +sense told you it would hurt your mother's proposition right here, +you'd cut it out so quick you'd forget you thought of it. Why? +Because it's you. And you figger that no hurt's going to come to your +mother from you. There isn't a thing in the world to equal a good +woman's loyalty to her mother. Not even the love of a girl for a man. +There's a whole heap of women-folk break up their married lives for +loyalty to a--mother. That's so. And that's why your interests are +surely the interests I got back of my head--because they're the +interests of your mother." + +But the girl was uninfluenced by the argument. His words had come +rapidly. But she saw underneath them the great selfish purpose which +was devouring the man. Her antagonistic feeling was unabated. She +shook her head. + +"You can't convince me with that talk," she said coldly. "I wouldn't +do a thing to hurt my mother. That's sure. But interests to be +personal need to be backed by desire. I hate all that robbed me of a +father." + +The man shook his head. + +"We most always get crossways," he said. "And it's the thing I just +hate--with you." Suddenly he laughed aloud. "Say, Jessie, I wonder if +you'd feel different to my argument if I didn't carry sixty pounds too +much weight for my size? I wonder if I stood six feet high, and had a +body like a Greek statue, you'd see the sense of my talk." + +The girl missed the earnestness lying behind the man's smiling eyes. +She missed the passionate fire he masked so well. She too laughed. +But her laugh was one of relief. + +"Maybe. Who knows," she said lightly. + +But, in a moment, regret for her unguarded words followed. + +"Before God, Jessie, if I thought by any act of mine I could get you to +feel diff'rent towards me, I'd rake out all the ashes of the things +I've figgered on all these years, to please you. I'd break up all the +hopes and objects, and ambitions I've set up, if it pleased you I +should act that way. I'd live the life you wanted. I'd act the way +you chose. + +"Say, Jessie," he went on, with growing passion, "I've wanted to tell +you all there is in the back of my head for months. I've wanted to +tell you the work I'm doing, the driving towards great wealth, is just +because I've sort of built up a hope you'd some day help me spend it. +But you've never given me a chance. Not a chance. I had to tell you +this to-day. It's got to be now--now--or never. I'm going away on +work that has to be done, and I can't just wait another day till I've +told you these things. + +"If you'd marry me, Jessie," the man continued, while the girl remained +mute, dumbfounded by the suddenness with which the passionate outburst +had come, "I'd hand you all you can ever ask in life. We'd quit this +God-forgotten land, and set up home where the sun's most always +shining, and our money counts for all that we guess is life. Don't +turn me down for my shape. Think of what it means. We can quit this +land with a fortune that would equal the biggest in the world. I know. +I hold the door to it. Your mother and I. I just love you with a +strength you'll never understand. All those things I've talked of are +just nothing to the way I love you. Say, child----" + +The girl broke in on him with a shake of the head. It was deliberate, +final. Even more final than her spoken words which sought for +gentleness. + +"Don't--just don't say another word," she cried. + +She started. For an instant her beautiful eyes flashed to the window. +Then they came back to the dark eyes which were glowing before her. In +a moment it seemed to her they had changed from the pleading, burning +passion to something bordering on the sinister. + +"I don't love you. I never could love you, Murray," she said a little +helplessly. + +There was the briefest possible pause, and a sound reached them from +outside. But the man seemed oblivious to everything but the passion +consuming him. And the manner of that seemed to have undergone a +sudden change. + +"I know," he broke out with furious bitterness and brutal force. "It's +because of that man. That Kars----" + +"Don't dare to say that," Jessie cried, with heightened color and eyes +dangerously wide. "You haven't a right to speak that way. You----" + +"Haven't I?" There was no longer emotion in the man's voice. Neither +anger, nor any gentler feeling. It was the tone Jessie always knew in +Murray McTavish. It was steady, and calm, and, just now, grievously +hurtful. + +"Well, maybe I haven't, since you say so. But I'm not taking your +answer now. I can't. I'll ask you again--next year, maybe. Maybe +you'll feel different then. I hope so." + +He swung about with almost electrical swiftness as his final words came +with a low, biting emphasis. And his movement was in response to the +swift opening of the door of the office. + +John Kars was standing in its framing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN + +It was a moment of intensity such as rarely fails to leave a landmark +in the lives of those concerned. For Murray McTavish it was as though +every fear that had ever haunted him from the rivalry of John Kars had +suddenly been translated into concrete form. For Jessie the hero of +all her dreams had magically responded to her unspoken appeal for +succor. John Kars felt something approaching elation at the unerring +instinct which had prompted his visit to the Fort on the instant of +arrival. Bill Brudenell looked on as usual with eyes calm in their +passionless wisdom. To him fortune's wheel was distinctly revolving in +their favor. + +Passing the window both he and Kars had caught and read the girl's half +terrified glance. Both of them had seen Murray standing before her, +and realized something of the passionate urgency of manner he was +laboring under. Their interpretation of the scene remained each to +himself. No word passed between them. Only had Kars' gait increased +as he hurried round towards the door. + +Now Kars' tone gave his friend and supporter infinite satisfaction. +Bill even felt he had miscalculated the primal instincts which governed +this man. He knew he was exercising a powerful restraint. And it +pleased as well as astonished him. + +"Why, say, you folks, I'm glad to have found you right away," Kars +said, with perfect cordiality. "We just pulled in on the trail, and +came right along up while Charley fixes things. We weren't sure of +getting Murray this time of year." + +Murray was completely master of himself. He was smiling his usual +greeting while John Kars shook hands with Jessie. Nor was his smile +any the less that his rival's words were for Jessie rather than for +him. He watched the new look born in the girl's eyes at sight of Kars +without a sign of emotion. And though it roused in him a fury of +jealousy his response only seemed to gain in cordiality. He laughed. + +"You're kind of lucky, too," he said. "I only got in from Leaping +Horse two days back, and I'm pulling out north right away." + +It was Bill who answered him. Jessie had picked up her oilskin, and +Kars was assisting her into it. + +"You only got in two days back?" Bill's brows were raised +questioningly. "You didn't drive as hard in the trail as folks guess." + +His shrewd eyes were twinkling as he watched the shadow of annoyance +pass swiftly across the trader's face. But Murray excused himself, and +his excuse seemed to afford Dr. Bill a certain amusement. + +"The trail was fierce," he said, with a shrug. "The devil himself +couldn't have got a hustle on." + +"No. We came the same trail." + +Kars seemed oblivious to what was passing between the two men. He +seemed to have no concern for any one but Jessie. + +"You going right down home now?" he asked. + +His eyes were smiling gently into the girl's upturned face, for all +that his mind was full of the tragic news he had yet to convey. + +He was so big as he stood there fastening the coat about her neck. His +rugged face was a picture of strength as he searched out the fastening +of the collar and secured it. His fur-lined pea-jacket, stained and +worn, his loose, travel-stained trousers tucked into his heavy knee +boots. These things aggravated his great bulk, and made him a very +giant of the world it was his whim to roam. + +The girl's moment of fear had entirely passed. There could be no +shadow for her where he was. Nor had the rapid beatings of her heart +anything to do with the scene through which she had just passed. It +was the touch of his great hands that stirred her with a thrill +exquisite beyond words. + +"Why, yes," she answered readily. "I've got school at the Mission. I +came up to get Murray's plans he needed to fix. He's going north, as +he said, and guessed I ought to help mother right here while he's away. +You see, we haven't got Alec now." + +"No." + +The smile passed out of Kars' eyes. The girl's final words shocked him +momentarily out of his self-command. There was one other at least who +held his breath for what was to follow that curt negative. But Bill +Brudenell need have had no fear. + +"But you'll be through after a while," Kars went on with a swift return +to his usual manner. "I'll be along down to pay my respects to your +mother. Meanwhile Bill and I need a yarn with Murray here. We're +stopping a while." + +While he was speaking he accompanied the girl to the door and watched +her till she had passed the angle of the building in the direction of +the gates of the stockade. Then he turned back to the trader, who was +once more seated at his desk. + +His whole manner had undergone a complete change. There was no smile +in his eyes now. There was a stern setting of his strong jaws. He +glanced swiftly at Bill, who had moved to the window. Then his eyes +came back to the mechanical smile on Murray's face. + +"Alec's out," he said. "He was shot up in the dance hall at the +Elysian Fields. It happened the night of the day you pulled out. He +ran foul of a 'gunman' who'd been set on his trail. He did the +'gunman' up. But he was done up, too. It's one of the things made us +come along up to you right away." + +John Kars made his announcement without an unnecessary word, without +seeking for a moment to lessen any effect which the news might have on +this man. He felt there was no need for any nicety. + +The effect of his announcement was hardly such as he might have +expected. There was a sort of amazed incredulity in Murray's dark eyes +and his words came haltingly. + +"Shot up? But--but--you're fooling. You--you must be. God! +You--must be!" + +Kars shrugged. + +"I tell you Alec is dead. Shot up." There was a hard ring in his +voice that robbed his words of any doubt. + +"God!" Then came a low, almost muttered expression of pity. "The poor +darn women-folk." + +The last vestige of Murray's mechanical smile had gone. An expression +of deep horror had deadened the curious light in his eyes. He sat +nerveless in his chair, and his bulk seemed to have become flabby with +loss of vitality. Bill was watching the scene from the window. + +"Yes. It's going to be terrible--for them." + +Kars spoke with a force which helped disguise his real emotions. By a +great effort Murray pulled himself together. + +"It's--it's Shaunbaum," he said. Then he went on as though to himself: +"It's over--that woman. And I warned him. Gee, I warned him for all I +knew! Josh Wiseman was right. Oh, the crazy kid!" + +Kars, looking on, remembered that this man had lied when he had said +that he had urged Alec to quit his follies. He remembered that he had +given Alec money, his money, to help him the further to wallow in the +muck of Leaping Horse. He remembered these things as he gazed upon an +outward display of grief, and listened to words of regrets which +otherwise must have carried complete conviction. + +He saw no necessity to add anything. And in a moment Murray had +started into an attitude of fierce resentment, and crashed his fleshy +fist down upon the pages of the ledger before him. + +"I warned him," he cried fiercely, his burning eyes fixed on the +emotionless face of his rival. "God! I warned him. I had it from +Josh Wiseman the 'gunmen' were around. Shaunbaum's 'gunmen.' Say, +Kars," he went on, reaching out with his clenched fist for emphasis, +"that boy was in my hotel to tell me he was quitting the city on a big +play for a great stake. And I tell you it was like a weight lifted +right off my shoulders. I saw him getting shut of Shaunbaum and that +woman. I told him I was glad, and I told him Josh Wiseman's yarn. I +told him they reckoned Shaunbaum meant doing him up some way. An' he +laffed. Just laffed, and--guessed he was glad. And now--they've got +him. It's broke me all up. But the women. Jessie! His mother! Say, +it's going to break their hearts all to pieces." + +Kars stirred in his chair. + +"We figgered that way," he said coldly. "That's why we came around to +you first. I'm going to tell the women-folk. And when I've told 'em I +guess you'll need to stop around a while. That's if you reckon this +place is to---- Say, they'll need time--plenty. It's up to you to +help them by keeping your hand on the tiller of things right here." + +Murray leaned back in his chair. His forcefulness had died out under +Kars' cold counsel. + +"Yes, it's up to me," he said with a sort of desperate regret. + +Presently he looked up. A light of apprehension had grown in his dark +eyes. + +"You said _you'd_ tell them?" he demanded eagerly. "Say, I couldn't do +it. I haven't the grit." + +"I'm going to tell them." + +There was no relaxing of manner in Kars. + +A deep relief replaced Murray's genuine dread. And presently his +fleshy chin sank upon his broad bosom in an attitude of profound +dejection. His eyes were hidden. His emotion seemed too deep for +further words. Bill, watching, beheld every sign. Nothing escaped him. + +For some moments the silence remained. Then, at last, it was Murray +who broke it. He raised his eyes to the cold regard of the man he had +so cordially come to hate. + +"Shaunbaum isn't going to get away with it?" he questioned. "The +p'lice? They've got a cinch on him?" + +"Shaunbaum won't get away with it." + +"They've--arrested him?" + +Kars shook his head. + +"No. Shaunbaum didn't shoot him. The boy did the 'gunman' up. You +see, it was the outcome of a brawl. There's no one to arrest--yet." + +"Who did shoot him up? The other 'gunman'? Josh spoke of two. Can't +he be got? He could give Shaunbaum away--maybe." + +"That's so. Guess that's most how it stands. Maybe it was the other +'gunman.'" + +Murray's satisfaction was obvious. He nodded. + +"Sure. It's Shaunbaum's play. There's no question. Everybody got it +ahead. It wouldn't be his way to see another feller snatch his dame +without a mighty hard kick. It's Shaunbaum--sure." + +He bestirred himself. All his old energy seemed to spring suddenly +into renewed life. Again came that forceful gesture of the fist which +Bill watched with so much interest, and the binding of the ledger +creaked under its force. + +"By God! I hope they get him and hang him by his rotten vulture neck! +He's run his vile play too long. He's a disease--a deadly, stinking, +foul disease. Maybe it was a 'gunman' did the shooting. But I'd bet +my life it was Shaunbaum behind him. And to think these poor lone +women-folk, hundreds of miles away from him, should be the victims. +See here, Kars, I'm no sort of full-fledged angel. I don't set myself +up as any old bokay of virtue. There's things count more with me, and +one of 'em's dollars. I'm out after all I can get of 'em. But I'd +give half of all I possess to see a rawhide tight around Shaunbaum's +neck so it wouldn't give an inch. I haven't always seen eye to eye +with young Alec. Maybe our temperaments were sort of contrary. But +this thing's got me bad. Before God, there's not a thing I wouldn't do +to save these poor women-folk hurt. They're right on their lonesome +now. Do you get all that means to women-folk? There isn't a soul +between them and the world. You ask me to stand by. You ask me to +keep my hand on the tiller of things. I don't need the asking--by any +one. I was Allan's partner, and Allan's friend. It's my duty and my +right to get in between these poor folk and a world that would show +them small enough mercy. And I don't hand my right to any man living. +I got to thank you coming along to me. But it don't need you, or any +other man, to ask me to get busy for the sake of these folk. You can +reckon on me looking after things right here, Kars. I'm ready to do +all I know. And God help any one who'd rob them of a cent. Allan left +his work only half done. It was for them. And I'm going to carry it +through. The way he'd have had it." + + +The rain had ceased. A watery sunshine had broken through the heavy +clouds which were reluctantly yielding before a bleak wintry wind. It +was the low poised sun of afternoon in the early year, and its warmth +was as ineffectual as its beam of light. But it shone through the +still tightly sealed double windows of Ailsa Mowbray's parlor, a +promise which, at the moment, possessed neither meaning nor appeal. + +The widowed mother was standing near the wood stove which radiated a +welcome warmth, and still roared its winter song through its open +dampers. John Kars was leaning against the centre table. His serious +eyes were on the ruddy light shining under the damper of the stove. +His strong hands were gripping the woodwork of the table behind him. +His grip was something in the nature of a clutching support. His fixed +gaze was as though he had no desire to shift it to the face of the +woman on whom he had come to inflict the most cruel agony a woman may +endure. + +"You have come to talk to me of Alec? Yes? What of him?" Ailsa +Mowbray's eyes, so steady, so handsome, eyes that claimed so much +likeness to Jessie's, were eager. Then, in a moment, a note of anxiety +found expression. "He--is well?" + +The man's own suffering at that moment was lacerating. All that was in +him was stirred to its deepest note. It was as though he were about to +strike this woman down, a helpless, defenceless soul, and all his +manhood revolted. He could have wept tears of bitterness, such as he +had never dreamed could have been wrung from him. + +"No." + +"What--has happened? Quick! Tell me!" + +The awful apprehension behind the mother's demand found no real outward +sign. She stood firmly--unwaveringly. Only was there a sudden +suppressed alarm in her voice. + +Kars stirred. The jacket buttoned across his broad chest seemed to +stifle him. A mad longing possessed him to reach out and break +something. The pleasant warmth of the room had suddenly become +unbearable. He could no longer breathe in the atmosphere. He raised +his eyes to the mother's face for one moment. The next they sought +again the ruddy line of the stove. + +"He--is dead." + +"Dead? Oh, no! Not that! Oh--God help me!" + +Kars had no recollection of a mother's love. He had no recollection of +anything but the hard blows in a cruel struggle for existence, beside a +man whose courage was invincible, but in whom the tender emotions at no +time found the smallest display. But all that which he had inherited +from the iron man who had founded his fortunes had failed to rob him of +any of the gentler humanity which his unremembered mother must have +bestowed upon him. His whole being shrank under the untold agony of +this mother's denial and ultimate appeal. + +Now he spoke rapidly. The yearning to spare this woman, who had +already suffered so much, urged him. To prolong the telling he felt +would be cruelty unthinkable. He felt brevity to be the only way to +spare her. + +"He was shot by a tough," he said. "It was at the Elysian Fields. He +was dancing, and there was a quarrel. If blame there was for Alec it +was just his youth, I guess. Just sit, and I'll hand it you--all." + +He moved from the table. He came to the mother's side. His strong +hand rested on her shoulder, and somehow she obeyed his touch and sank +into the chair behind her. It was the chair from which she had watched +her little world grow up about her, the chair in which she had pondered +on the first great tragedy of her life. + +Her lips were unmoving. Her eyes terrible in their stony calm. They +mechanically regarded the man before her with so little understanding +that he wondered if he should proceed. + +Presently, however, he was left no choice. + +"Go on," she said, and her hands clasped themselves in her lap with a +nerve force suggesting the physical clinging which remained her only +support. + +And at her bidding the man talked. He told his story in naked outline, +smothering the details of her boy's delinquencies, and sparing her +everything which could wound her mother's pride and devotion. His +purpose was clearly defined. The wound he had to inflict was well-nigh +mortal, but no word or act of his should aggravate it. His story was a +consummate effort of loyalty to the dead and mercy to the living. + +Even in the telling he wondered if those wide-gazing, stricken eyes +were reading somewhere in the depths of his soul the real secrets he +was striving so ardently to withhold. He could not tell. His +knowledge of women was limited, so limited. He hoped that he had +succeeded. + +At the conclusion of his pitiful story he waited. His purpose was to +leave the woman to her grief, believing that time, and her wonderful +courage, would help her. But it was difficult, and all that was in him +bade him stay, and out of his own great courage seek to help her. + +He stirred. The moment was dreadful in its hopelessness. + +"Jessie will be along," he said. + +The mother looked up with a start. + +"Yes," she said. "She's all I have left. Oh, God, it will break her +young heart." + +There was no thought of self in that supreme moment. The mother was +above and beyond her own sufferings, even when the crushing grief was +beating her down with the full force of merciless blows. Her thought +for the suffering of her one remaining child was supreme. + +The man's hands gripped till his nails almost cut the hard flesh of his +palms. He had no answer for her words. It was beyond his power to +answer such words. + +He turned with a movement suggesting precipitate flight. But his going +was arrested by the voice he knew and loved so well. + +"What--what--will break her young heart?" + +Jessie was standing just within the room, and the door was closed +behind her. Her eyes were on the drawn face of her mother, but, +somehow, it seemed to Kars that her words were addressed to him. + +In the agony of his feelings he was about to answer. Perhaps +recklessly. For somehow the dreadful nature of his errand was telling +on a temper unused to such a task. But once again the fortitude of the +elder woman displayed itself, and he was saved from himself. + +"I'll tell you, Jessie, when--he's gone." And the handsome, tragic +eyes looked squarely into the man's. + +For a moment the full significance of the mother's words remained +obscure to the man. Then the courage, the strength of them made +themselves plain. He realized that this grief-stricken woman was +invincible. Nothing--just nothing could break her indomitable spirit. +In the midst of all her suffering she desired to spare him, to spare +her one remaining child. + +There could be no reply to such a woman. Nor could he answer the +girl--now. He came towards her. Resting one great hand on the oilskin +covering her shoulders, he looked down into her questioning, troubled +eyes with infinite tenderness. + +"Jessie, there's things I can say to you I can't say even to your +mother. I want to say them now, with her looking on. I can't put all +I feel into words. Those things don't come easy to me. You see, I've +never had anything beyond my own concerns to look after, ever before in +my life. Other folks never kind of seemed to figger with me. Maybe +I'm selfish. It seems that way. But now--why, now that's all changed. +Things I always guessed mattered don't matter any longer. And why? +Why? Because there's just two women in the world got right into my +heart, and everything else has had to make way for them. Do you get +me, child? Maybe you don't. Well, it's just that all I am or ever +hope to be is for you. It don't matter the miles between us, or the +season. When I get your call I'll answer--right away." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE FIRST STREAK OF DAWN + +Fort Mowbray was enveloped in a black cloud of tragedy. Its simple +life flickered on. But it seemed to have been robbed of all its past +reality, all its quiet strength, all that made it worth while. + +Nor was the change confined to the white people. Even the Indians, +those stoic creatures born to the worst buffets life knows how to +inflict, whose whole object at the Mission was white man's bounty, to +be paid for by the worship of the white man's God, yielded to the +atmosphere of hopelessness prevailing. Alec had been the young white +chief after the great hunter who had paid his debt at the hands of the +Bell River terror. He, too, was gone, and they felt that they were in +the hands of the "smiling one" for whom their regard was chiefly +inspired by fear. The little white Father was their remaining hope, +and he was very, very old. + +So they set up their lamentations, surrounding them with all the rites +of their race. The old women crooned their mystic tuneless dirges. +The younger "charmed" the evil spirits haunting their path. The men +sat in long and profound council which was beset with doubt of the +future. + +Ailsa Mowbray and Jessie fought out their own battle, as once before +they had had to fight, and herein their native fortitude strove on +their behalf. For days they saw no one but the little priest who +remained ever at their call. The primitive in their lives demanded for +them that none should witness their hurt. They asked neither sympathy +nor pity, wherein shone forth the mother's wondrous courage which had +supported her through every trial. + +The days passed without the departure of Kars and Bill. The excuse was +the state of the river, by which they were to make the headwaters. The +ice was still flowing northward, but in ever lessening bulk, and the +time was filled in with repairs to the canoes which had suffered during +the long portage of the trail. + +This was the excuse, but it was only excuse. Both men knew it, and +neither admitted it verbally. The condition of the river would not +have delayed John Kars in the ordinary way. There was always the +portage. + +The truth lay in the passionate yearning of the heart of a man who had +remained so long beyond the influence of a woman upon his life. He had +set his task firmly before him, but its fulfilment now must wait till +he had made sure for himself of those things which had suddenly become +the whole aim and desire of his future. He could not leave the Fort +for the adventure of Bell River till he had put beyond all doubt the +hopes he had built on the love that had become the whole meaning of +earthly happiness to him. Bill understood this. So he refrained from +urging, and checked the impatient grumbling of Peigan Charley without +much regard for the scout's feelings. + +Murray McTavish continued at his post, undemonstrative, without a sign. +The stream of spring traffic, which consisted chiefly of outfitting on +credit the less provident trappers and pelt-hunters for their summer +campaign, went on without interruption. His projected journey had been +definitely abandoned. But for all his outward manner he was less at +his ease than would have seemed. His eyes were upon Kars at all times. +His delayed departure irritated him. Perhaps he, too, like Bill +Brudenell, understood something of its meaning. + +Although his outward seeming had undergone no change, there was a +subtle difference in Murray. His trade methods had hardened. The +trappers who appealed to him in their need left him with a knowledge +that their efforts must be increased if they were to pay off their +credits, and keep up their profits for the next winter's supplies. +Then, too, he avoided Kars, who was sharing the Padre's hospitality, +and even abandoned his nightly visits to the priest, which had been his +habit of years. It was as rarely as possible that he came down to the +Mission, and the clearing only saw him when the demand of nature made +his food imperative. + +It was one day, just after his midday dinner, that Murray encountered +Father Jose. He was leaving Ailsa Mowbray's house, and the old priest +protested at his desertion. The trader's answer was ready on the +moment. + +"I hate it, Padre," he said, with unnecessary force. "But I can't act +diff'rent. I got to get around for food or starve. This place +wouldn't see me in months else. You see, I had too much to do with +that boy going down to Leaping Horse. And it's broke me up so bad I +can't face it yet--even to myself. Guess Mrs. Mowbray understands +that, too. Say, she's a pretty great woman. If she weren't I'd be +scared for our proposition here. She must get time. They both must, +and the less they see of me, why, it's all to the good. Time'll do +most things for women--for us all, I guess. Then, maybe things'll +settle down--later." + +And the priest's reply was characteristic. It was the reply of a man +who has endured life in the land north of "sixty" for the sheer love of +the dark souls it is his desire to help. + +"Yes," he said, with a sigh. "Time can heal almost anything. But it +can't hide the scars. That's the work that falls to the grave." + +Murray remained silent while the priest helped himself to snuff. The +little man's eyes became tenderly reflective as he went on. + +"Sixty years I've been looking around at things. And my conceit made +me hope to read something of the meaning that lies behind the things +Providence hands out." He shook his white head. "It's just conceit. +I'm not beyond the title page. Maybe the text inside isn't meant for +me. For any of us. It just bewilders. These folk. I've known them +right through from the start. I can see Allan now fixing that old Fort +into order, that old Fort with all its old-time wickedness behind it. +I've watched him, and his wife, and his kiddies, as only a lonely man +in this country can study the folk about him. Wholesome, clean, +God-fearing. That was Allan and his folk in my notion. They fought +their battle with clean hands, and--merciful. It mostly seemed to me +God, was in their hearts all the time. They endured and fought, and it +wasn't always easy. Now?" His eyes were gazing thoughtfully at the +home which had witnessed so much happiness and so much sorrow. "Why, +now God's hand has fallen heavy--heavy. It seems Providence means to +drive them from the Garden. The flaming sword is before their eyes. +It has fallen on them, and they must go. The reason?" + +Again came that meditative head-shake. "It's God's will. So be it." + +Murray drew a deep breath. He was less impressed by the priestly view +than with the implication. + +"Driving them out?" he questioned, his curious eyes searching the wise +old face. + +"It seems that way. Mrs. Mowbray won't pass another winter here. It's +not good to pitch camp on the grave of your happiness." + +"No." + +Murray stood looking after the little man, whom nothing stayed in his +mission of mercy. He watched him vanish within the woods, in the +direction of the Indian encampment. + +So two weeks, two long weeks passed, and each day bore its own signs of +the last efforts of winter in its reluctant retreat. And spring, in +its turn, was invincible, and it marched on steadily, breathing its +fresh, invigorating warmth upon an earth it was seeking to make +fruitful. + +The cloud of disaster slowly began to lift. Nothing stands still. +Nothing can stand still. The power of life moves on inexorably. It +brings with it its disasters and its joys, but they are all passing +emotions, and are of so small account in the tremendous scheme being +slowly worked out by an Infinite Power. + +The blow which had fallen on Jessie Mowbray had robbed her for the +moment of all joy in the coming of John Kars. But her love was deep +and real, and, for all her sorrow, she had neither power nor desire to +deny it. In her darkest moments there was a measure of comfort in it. +It was something on which she could lean for support. Even in her +greatest depths of suffering it buoyed her, all unknown, perhaps, but +nevertheless. + +So, as the days passed, and the booming of the glacier thundered under +the warming spring sunlight, she yearned more and more for the gentle +sympathy which she knew he would readily yield. Thus it came that Kars +one day beheld her on the landing, gazing at the work which was going +on under his watchful eye. + +It was the revelation he had awaited. That night he conferred with +Bill, with the resulting decision of a start to be made within two days. + + +The wonder of it. God's world. A world of life and hope. The winter +of Nature's despair driven forth beyond the borders to the outland +drear of eternal northern ice. The blue of a radiant sky, flecked with +a fleece, white as driven snow, frothing waves tossed on the bosom of a +crisp spring breeze. The sun playing a delicious hide-and-seek, at +moments flashing its brilliant eye, and setting the channels of life +pulsating with hope, and again lost behind its screen of alabaster, +that only succeeded in adding to its promise. + +As yet the skeleton arms of the winter woods remained unclad. But wild +duck and geese were on the wing, sweeping up from the south in search +of the melting sloughs and flooded hollows, pastures laid open to them +by the rapid thaw. The birth of the new season was accomplished, and +the labor of mother earth was a memory. + +They were at the bank of the river again. They were in the heart of +the willow glade, still shorn of its summer beauty. The man was +standing, large, dominating before her, but obsessed by every unmanly +fear. The girl was sitting on a fallen tree-trunk, whose screen of +tilted roots set up a barrier which shut her from the view of the +frowning glances of the aged Fort above them, and whose winter-starved +branches formed a breakwater in the ice cold flood of the stream. + +Jessie's pretty eyes were gazing up into the man's face. A quick look +of alarm had replaced, for the moment, the shadow of grief which had so +recently settled in them. Her plain cloth skirt had only utility to +recommend it. Her shirt-waist was serviceable in seasons as uncertain +as the present. The loose buckskin coat, which reached to her knees, +and had been fashioned and beaded by the Mission squaws, had +picturesqueness. But she gained nothing from these things as a setting +for her beauty. + +But for Kars, at least, her beauty was undeniable. Her soft crown of +chestnut hair, hatless, at the mercy of the mood of the breeze, to him +seemed like a ruddy halo crowning a face of a childlike purity. Her +gentle gray eyes were to him unfathomable wells of innocence, while her +lips had all the ripeness of a delicious womanhood. + +"You were scared that day we pulled into the Fort," he had said, in his +abrupt way. + +He had been talking of his going on the morrow. And the change of +subject had come something startlingly to the girl. + +"Yes," she admitted, almost before she was aware of it. + +"That's how I guessed," he said. "I reached the office on the dead +jump--after I saw. Why? Murray had you scared. How?" + +There was no escape from the man's searching gaze. Jessie felt he was +probing irresistibly secrets she vainly sought to keep hidden. +Subterfuge was useless under that regard. + +"Murray asked me to marry him. He--asked me just then. I--wish he +hadn't." + +"Why?" The inexorable pressure was maintained. + +Jessie tried to avoid his eyes. She sought the aid of the bubbling +waters, racing and churning amongst the branches of the fallen tree. +She would have resented such catechism even in her mother. But she was +powerless to deny this man. + +"Why?" she echoed at last. Suddenly she raised her eyes to his again. +They were frankly yielding. "Guess I'd rather have Murray guiding a +commercial proposition than hand me out the schedule of life." + +"You don't like him, and you're scared of him. I wonder why." + +The girl sat up. She flung back her head, and her outspread hands +supported her, resting on the tree-trunk on either side of her. + +"Say, why do you talk that way?" she protested. "Is it always your way +to drive folks? I thought that was just Murray's way. Not yours. But +you're right, anyway. I'm scared of Murray when he talks love. I'm +scared, and don't believe. I'd as lief have his hate as his love. +And--and I haven't a thing against him." + +There was a sort of desperation in the girl's whole manner of telling +of her fears. It hurt the man as he listened. But his pressure was +not idle. He was seeking corroboration of those doubts which haunted +him. Doubts which had only assailed him for the first time when he +learned of the nature of Murray's freight with John Dunne, and which +had received further support in his realization of the man's lies on +the subject of Alec. + +"I've got to talk that way," he said. "I'm not yearning to drive you +any. Say, Jessie, if there's a person in this world I'd hate to drive +it's you. If there's a thing I could do to fix things easy for you, +why, a cyclone couldn't stop me fixing them that way. But I saw the +scare in your eyes through the window of that feller's office, and I +just had to know about it. I can't hand you the things tumbling around +in the back of my head. I don't know them all myself, but there's +things, and they're things I can't get quit of. Maybe some time +they'll straighten out, and when they do I'll be able to show them to +you. Meanwhile, we'll leave 'em where they are, and simply figger I'm +thinking harder than I ever thought in my life, and those thoughts are +around you, and for you, all the time." + +The simplicity of his words and manner robbed the girl of all +confusion. A great delight surged through her heart. This great +figure, this strong man, with his steady eyes and masterful methods was +setting himself her champion before the world. The lonely spirit of +the wilderness was deeply in her heart, and the sense of protection +became something too rapturous for words. + +Her frank eyes thanked him though her lips remained dumb. + +"I'm quitting to-morrow," he went on. "But I couldn't go till I'd made +a big talk with you. Bill's been on the grouch days. And Charley? +Why, Charley's come nigh raising a riot. But I had to wait--for you." + +He paused. Nor from his manner could any one have detected the depths +of emotion stirred in him. A great fear possessed him, and his heart +was burdened with the crushing weight of it. For the first time in his +life his whole future seemed to have passed into other hands. And +those hands were the brown sunburnt hands, so small, so desirable, of +this girl whose knowledge and outlook were bounded by the great +wilderness they had loved, and so often vilified together. To him it +seemed strange, yet so natural. To him it seemed that for the first +time he was learning something of the real meaning of life. Never had +he desired a thing which was beyond his power to possess. Doubt had +never been his. Now he knew that doubt was a hideous reality, and the +will of this girl could rob him beyond all hope of all that made his +life worth while. + +He drew a deep breath. It was the summoning of the last ounce of +purpose and courage in him. He flung all caution aside, he paused not +for a single word. He became the veriest suppliant at the shrine where +woman reigns supreme. + +"Y'see, Jessie, I want to tell you things. I want to tell you I love +you so that nothing else counts. I want to tell you I've been +traipsing up and down this long trail hunting around all the while for +something, and I guessed that something was--gold. So it was. I know +that now. But it wasn't the gold we men-folk start out to buy our +pleasures with. It was the sort of gold that don't lie around in +'placers.' It don't lie anywhere around in the earth. It's on top. +It walks around, and it's in a good woman's heart. Well, say," he went +on, moving towards the tree-trunk, and sitting down at the girl's side, +"I found it. Oh, yes, I found it." + +His voice had lowered to an appealing note which stirred the girl to +the depths of her soul. She sat leaning forward. Her elbows were +resting on her knees, and her hands were clasped. Her soft gray eyes +were gazing far out down the naked avenue ahead without seeing. Her +whole soul was concentrated on the radiant vision of the paradise his +words opened up before her. + +"I found it," he went on. "But it's not mine--yet. Not by a sight. +Pick an' shovel won't hand it me. The muscles that have served me so +well in the past can't help me now. I'm up against it. I guess I'm +well-nigh beat. I can't get that gold till it's handed me. And the +only hands can pass it my way are--yours." + +He reached out, and one hand gently closed over the small brown ones +clasped so tightly together. + +"Just these little hands," he continued, while the girl unresistingly +yielded to his pressure. "Say, they're not big to hold so much of the +gold I'm needing. Look at 'em," he added, gently parting them, and +turning one soft palm upwards. "But it's all there. Sure, sure. I +don't need a thing they can't hand me. Not a thing." He closed his +own hand over the upturned palm. "If I got all this little hand could +pass me there isn't a thing I couldn't do. Say, little Jessie, there's +a sort of heaven on this earth for us men-folk. It's a heaven none of +us deserve. And it lies in the soul of one woman. If she guesses to +open the gate, why, we can walk right in. It she don't choose that +way, then I guess there's only perdition waiting around to take us in. +Well, I got to those gates right now." One arm unobtrusively circled +the girl's waist, and slowly its pressure drew her towards him. "And +I'm waiting. It's all up to you. I'm just standing around. +Maybe--maybe you'll--open those gates?" + +The girl's head gently inclined towards him. In a moment her lips were +clinging to his. Those ripe, soft, warm lips had answered him. + +Later--much later, when the warming sun had absorbed the fleecy screen +which had served its earlier pastime, and the spring breeze had hastily +sought new fields upon which to devote its melting efforts, Jessie +found courage to urge the single regret these moments had left her. + +"And you still need to quit--to-morrow?" she asked shyly. + +"More surely than ever." + +"Why?" + +A smile lit the man's eyes. She was using his own pressure against +himself. + +He suddenly sprang from his seat. The girl, too, rose and stood +confronting him with questioning eyes. She was tall. For all his +great size he was powerless to rob her of one inch of the gracious form +which her mother had bestowed upon her. He held out his hands so that +they rested on her shoulders. He gazed down into her face with eyes +filled with a joy and triumph unspeakable. And he spoke out of the +buoyant strength of his heart, which was full to overflowing. + +"Because, more than ever I need to go--now. Say, my dear, there's +folks who've hurt you in this world. They've hurt you sore. I'm going +to locate 'em up here, and down at Leaping Horse. And when I've +located them they're going to pay. Do you get what that means? No. +You can't. Your gentle heart can't get it all, when men set out to +make folk who've hurt women-folk bad pay for their doings. And I'm +glad. I know. And, by God, the folk who've hurt you are going to pay +good. They're going to pay--me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE OUT-WORLD + +Awe was the dominating emotion. Wonder looked out of eyes that have +long become accustomed to the crude marvels of nature to be found in +the northland. The men of Kars' expedition were gazing down upon the +savage splendor of the Promised Land. + +But the milk and honey were lacking. The dream of peace, of delight +was not in these men. Their Promised Land must hold something more +substantial than the mere comforts of the body. That substance they +knew lay there, there ahead of them, but only to be won by supreme +effort against contending forces, human and natural. + +They had halted at the highest point of a great saddle lying between +two snow-crowned hills. Peaks towered mightily above the woodlands +clothing their wide slopes, and shining with alabaster splendor in the +sunlight. + +It was the first glimpse of the torn land of the ominous Bell River +gorge. + +The sight of the gorge made them dizzy. The width, the depth, left an +impression of infinite immensity upon the mind, an overwhelming +hopelessness. Men used to mountain vastness all the days of their +lives were left speechless for moments, while their searching eyes +sought to measure the limits of this long hidden land. + +The mountains beyond, about them. The broken, tumbled earth, yawning +and gaping in every direction. The forests of primordial origin. The +snows which never yield their grip upon their sterile bed. And then +the depths. Those infinite depths, which the human mind can never +regard unmoved. + +The long, toilsome journey lay behind them. The goal lay awaiting the +final desperate assault, with all its traps and hidden dangers. What a +goal to have sought. It was like the dragon-guarded storehouse of the +crudest folk-lore. + +The white men stood apart from their Indian supporters. Kars knew the +scene. He was observing the faces of the men who were gazing upon the +gorge for the first time. They were full of interest. But it was left +to Bill to interpret the general feeling in concrete form. + +"They're reckoning up the chances they've taken 'blind,'" he said. + +Kars laughed. + +"Sure." Then he added: "And none of them are 'squealers.' Chances +'blind,' or any others, need to be taken, or it's a long time living. +It's the thing the northland rubs into the bones." + +"Folks are certainly liable to pass it quicker that way." + +Bill's shrewd eyes twinkled as he read the reckless spirit stirring +behind the lighting eyes of his friend. + +Kars laughed again. It was the buoyant laugh of a man full of the +great spirit of adventure, and whose lust is unshadowed by a single +care. + +"Chances _are_ Life, Bill. All of it. The other? Why, the other's +just making a darn fool of old Prov. And I guess old Prov hates being +made a darn fool of." + +But for all Kars' reckless spirit he possessed the wide sagacity and +vigorous responsibility of a born leader. It was this which inspired +the men he gathered about him. It was this which claimed their +loyalty. It was partly this which made Bill Brudenell willingly +abandon his profitable labors in a rich city for the hardship of a life +at his friend's side. Perhaps the other part was that somewhere under +Bill's hardly acquired philosophy there lurked a spirit in perfect +sympathy with that which actuated the younger man. There was not a day +passed but he deplored to himself the stupendous waste of energy and +time involved. But he equally reveled in outraging his better sense, +and defying the claims of his life in Leaping Horse. + +No less than Kars he reveled in the sight of the battle-field which lay +before them. + +Abe Dodds and Saunders gazed upon it, too. It was their first sight of +it, and their view-points found prompt expression, each in his own way. + +"Say, this place kind o' makes you feel old Dante was a libelous guy +who'd oughter be sent to penitentiary," Abe remarked pensively. "Guess +we'll likely find old whiskers waiting around with his boat when we get +on down to the river. Still, it's consoling to figger up the cost o' +coaling hell north of 'sixty.'" + +An unsmiling nod of agreement came from his companion. + +"Makes me feel I bin soused weeks," he said earnestly. He pointed down +at the forbidding walls enclosing the river. "That's jest mist around +ther', ain't it? It ain't--smoke nor nothin'. An' them hills an' +things. They are hills? They ain't the rim of a darn fool pit that +ain't got bottom to it? An' them folks--movin' around down there. +They are folks? They ain't--things?" + +Both men laughed. But their amusement was wide-eyed and wondering. + +Kars' half military caravan labored its way forward. It made its own +path through virgin woodland breaks, which had known little else than +wild or Indian life since the world began. There were muskegs to +avoid. Broken stretches of tundra, trackless, treacherous. Cruel +traps which only patience, labor, skill and great courage could avoid. +Apart from all chances of hostile welcome the Bell River approaches +claimed all the mental and physical sweat of man. + +The movements of the outfit if slow were sure, and seemingly +inevitable. The days of labor were followed by nights of watchful +anxiety and council. Nature's batteries were against them. But the +lurking human danger was even more serious in the minds of these men. +Nature they knew. They had learned her arts of war, and their counters +were studied, and the outcome of fierce experience. But the other was +new, or, at least, sufficiently new to require the straining of every +nerve to meet it successfully, should it come. They were under no +delusions on the subject. Come it would. How? Where? But more than +all--when? + +For all their skill, for all their well-thought organization, these men +could not hope to escape scathless against the forces of nature opposed +to them. They lost horses in the miry hollows. The surgical skill of +Dr. Bill was frequently needed for the drivers and packmen. There was +a toll of material, too. + +The land seemed scored with narrow chasms, the cause of which was +beyond all imagination. There were cul-de-sacs which possessed no +seeming rhyme or reason. Time and again the advancing scout party, +seeking the better road, found itself trapped in valleys of muskeg with +no other outlet than the way by which it had entered. Wherever the eye +searched, rugged rock facets, with ragged patches of vegetation growing +in the crevices confronted them. It was a maze of desolation, and +magnificent hills and forests of primordial growth. It was as crude +and half complete in the days when the waters first receded. + +But the lure of the precious metal was in every heart. Even Kars lay +under its fascination once more, now that the strenuous goal lay within +sight. He knew it was there, and in great quantities. And, for all +the saner purposes he had in his mind, its influence made itself deeply +felt. + +The gold seeker, be he master or wage earner, is beyond redemption. +Murray McTavish had said that all men north of "sixty" were wage +slaves. He might have included all the world. But the truth of his +assertion was beyond all question. Not a man in the outfit Kars had +organized but was a wage slave, down to the least civilized Indian who +labored under a pack. + +Bodily ease counted for nothing. These men were inured to all +hardship. They were men who had committed themselves to a war against +the elements, a war against all that opposed them in their hunger for +the wage they were determined to tear from the frigid bosom of an earth +which they regarded as the vulture regards carrion. + +The days of labor were long and many. Hardship piled up on hardship, +as it ever does in the spring of the northland. There was no ease for +leader or man. Only labor, unceasing, terrific. + +Kars moved aside from the Bell River Indian encampment. He passed to +the west of it, beyond all sight of the workings he had explored on the +memorable night of his discovery. And he took the gorge from the +north, seeking its heart for his camp, on the wide foreshore beyond the +dumps of pay dirt which had first yielded him their secret. + +It was a movement which precluded all possibility of legitimate +protest. And since this territory was all unscheduled in the +government of the Yukon, it was his for just as long as he could hold +it. The whole situation was treated as though no other white influence +were at work. It was treated as a peaceful invasion of Indian +territory, and, as is usual in such circumstances, the Indian was +ignored. It was an illustration of white domination. In Bill +Brudenell's words "they were throwing a big bluff." + +But for all their ignoring of the Indians, the outfit was under the +closest observation. There was not a moment, not a foot of its way, +that was not watched over by eyes that saw, and for the most part +remained unseen. But this invisibility was not always the rule. +Indians in twos and threes were frequently encountered. They were the +undersized northern Indian of low type, who had none of the splendid +manhood of the tribes further south. But each man was armed with a +more or less modern rifle, and garments of crudely manufactured furs +replaced the romantic buckskin of their southern brethren. + +These men came round the camps at night. They foregathered silently, +and watched, with patient interest, the work going on. They offered no +friendship or welcome. They made no attempt to fraternize in any way. +Their unintelligent faces were a complete blank, in so far as they +displayed any understanding of what they beheld. + +The men of the outfit were in nowise deceived. They knew the purpose +of these visits. These creatures were there to learn all that could +serve the purposes of their leaders. They were testing the strength of +these invaders. And they were permitted to prosecute their +investigations without hindrance. It was part of the policy Kars had +decided upon. The "bluff," as Bill had characterized it, was to be +carried through till the enemy "called." + +Two weeks from the day when the gorge had been sighted, the permanent +camp was completely established. Furthermore, the work of the gold +"prospect" had been begun under the fierce energy of Abe Dodds, and the +thirst-haunted Saunders. Theirs it was to explore and test the great +foreshore, and to set up the crude machinery. + +The first day's report was characteristic of the mining engineer. He +returned to his chief, who was organizing the camp with a view to +eventualities. There was a keen glitter in his hollow eyes as he made +his statement. There was a nervous restraint in his whole manner. He +chewed unmercifully as he made his unconventional statement. + +"The whole darn place is full of 'color,'" he said. "Ther' ain't any +sort o' choice anywhere, 'less you set up machinery fer the sake o' the +scenery." + +"Then we'll set up the sluices where we can best protect them," was +Kars' prompt order. + +So the work proceeded with orderly haste. + +Further up the stream the Indians swarmed about their "placers." Their +washings went on uninterruptedly. They, too, were playing a hand, with +doubtless a keen head controlling it. The invasion seemed to trouble +them not one whit. But this steady industry, and aloofness, was ample +warning for the newcomers. It was far more deeply significant than any +prompt display of hostility. + +Kars spared neither himself nor his men. Every soul of his outfit knew +they were passing through the moments immediately preceding the battle +which must be fought out. Each laborious day was succeeded by a night +which concealed possible terrors. Each golden sunrise might yield to +the blood-red sunset of merciless war. And the odds were wide against +them, and could only be bridged by determination and skilful +leadership. Great, however, as the odds were, these men were before +all things gold seekers, all of them, white and colored, and they were +ready to face them, they were ready to face anything in the world for +the golden wage they demanded. + + +It was nearing the end of the first week. The mining operations were +in full swing under the guidance of Abe Dodds and Saunders. Kars and +Bill were left free to regard only the safety of the enterprise, and to +complete the preparations for defence. To this end they were out on an +expedition of investigation. + +Their investigations had taken them across the river directly opposite +the camp. The precipitous walls of the gorge at this point were clad +in dark woods which rose almost from the water's edge. But these woods +were not the only thing which demanded attention. There was a water +inlet to the river hidden amongst their dark aisles. Furthermore, high +up, overlooking the river, a wide ledge stood out from the wall, and +that which had been discovered upon it was not without suspicion in +their minds. + +For some moments after landing Kars stood looking back across the +river. His searching gaze was taking in every detail of the defences +he had set up across the water. When he finally turned it was to +observe the watercourse cascading down a great rift in the walls of the +gorge. + +"Guess this is the weak link, Bill," he said. "It's a way down to the +water's edge. The only way down in a stretch of two miles on this +side. And it's plumb in front of us." + +Bill nodded agreement. + +"Sure. And that queer old shack half-way up. We best make that right +away." + +The canoe was hauled clear of the racing stream, and left secure. Then +they moved up the rocky foreshore where the inlet had cut its way +through the heart of the woods. + +It was a curious, almost cavernous opening. Nor was there a detail of +it that was not water-worn as far up the confining walls of drab rock +as the eyes could see. + +Once within the entrance, however, the scene was completely changed, +and robbed of the general sternness which prevailed outside. It was +not without some charm. + +The split was far greater than had seemed from the distance. It was a +tumbled mass of tremendous boulders, amidst which the forest of +primordial pines found root room where none seemed possible, and craned +their ragged heads towards the light so far above them. And, in the +midst of this confusion, the mountain stream poured down from heights +above, droning out its ceaseless song of movement in a cadence that +seemed wholly out of place amidst such surroundings. + +The whole place was burdened under a semi-twilight, induced by the +crowning foliage so frantically jealous of its rights. Of undergrowth +there was no vestige. Only the deep carpet of cones and pine needles, +which clogged the crevices, and frequently concealed pitfalls for the +steps of those sufficiently unwary. This, and a general saturation +from the spray of the falling waters, left the upward climb something +more than arduous. + +It was nearly an hour later when the two men stood on the narrow +plateau cut in the side of the gorge, and overlooking the great river. +It yielded a perfect view of the vastness of the amazing reach. + +Below them, out of the solid walls, wherever root-hold offered, the +lean pines thrust their crests to a level with them. Above, where the +slope of the gorge fell back at an easier angle, black forests covered +the whole face for hundreds of feet towards the cloud-flecked skies. + +These men, however, were all unconcerned with the depths or the +heights, for all their dizzy splendor. A habitation stood before them +sheltered by a burnt and tumbled stockade. And to practical +imagination it held a significance which might have deep enough meaning. + +They stood contemplating the litter for some moments. And in those +moments it told them a story of attack and defence, and finally of +defeat. The disaster to the defenders was clearly told, and the +question in both their minds was the identity of those defeated. + +John Kars approached the charred pile where it formed the least +obstruction, and his eyes searched the staunch but dilapidated shack, +with its flat roof. Battered, it still stood intact, hard set against +the slope of the hill. Its green log walls were barkless. They were +weather-worn to a degree that suggested many, many years and cruel +seasons. But its habitable qualities were clearly apparent. + +Bill Brudenell was searching in closer detail. It was the difference +between the two men. It was the essential difference in their +qualities of mind. He was the first to break the silence between them. + +"Get a look," he said abruptly. "There! There! And there! All over +the darn old face of it. Bullet holes. Hundreds of them. And +seemingly from every direction. Say, it must have been a beautiful +scrap." + +"And the defenders got licked--poor devils." + +Kars was pointing down at the strewn bones lying amongst the fallen +logs. Beyond them, inside the boundary of the stockade lay a skull, a +human skull, as clean and whitened as though centuries had passed since +it lost contact with the frame which had supported it. + +Bill moved to it. His examination was close and professional. + +"Indian," he said at last, and laid it back on the ground with almost +reverent care. + +He turned his eyes upon the shanty once more. Two other piles of human +bones, picked as clean as carrion birds could leave them, passed under +his scrutiny, but he was no longer concerned with them. The hut +absorbed his whole interest now, and he moved towards its open doorway +with Kars at his heels. They passed within. + +As their eyes grew accustomed to the indifferent light, more of the +story of the place was set out for their reading. There were some +ammunition boxes. There were odds and ends of camp truck. But nothing +of any value remained, and the fact suggested, in combination with the +other signs, the looting of a victorious foe. + +Kars was the first to offer comment. + +"Do you guess it's possible----?" + +"Allan held this shack?" Bill nodded. "These are all white men signs. +Those ammunition boxes. They're the same as we've loaded up at the +Fort many times. Sure. Allan held this shack, but he didn't die here. +Murray found what was left of him down below, way down the river. +Maybe he held this till his stores got low. Then he made a dash for +it, and--found it. It makes me sick thinking. Let's get out." + +He turned away to the door and Kars followed him. + +Kars had nothing to add. The picture of that hopeless fight left him +without desire to investigate further. It was almost the last fight of +the man who had made the happiness he now contemplated possible. His +heart bled for the girl who he knew had well-nigh worshiped her "daddy." + +But Bill did not pass the doorway. At that moment the sharp crack of a +rifle split the air, and set the echoes of the gorge screaming. A +second later there was the vicious "spat" of a bullet on the sorely +tried logs of the shack. He stepped back under cover. But not before +a second shot rang out, and another bullet struck, and ricochetted, +hurtling through the air to lose itself in the pine woods above him. + +"The play's started," was his undisturbed comment. + +Kars nodded and his eyes lit. The emotions of the moment before had +fallen from him. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "Now for Mister Louis Creal." + +Bill turned, and his twinkling eyes were thoughtful as they regarded +his friend. + +"Ye-es." + +But Kars was paying small attention. His eyes were shining with a +light such as is only seen in those who contemplate the things their +heart is set upon. In his mind there was no doubt, only conviction. + +"We're not fighting those poor, darn-fool neches who fired those +shots," he cried in a sudden break from his usual reticence. "Maybe +they're the force but they aren't the brain. The brain behind this +play is Mister Louis Creal. Say, this thing's bigger than we guessed. +This Louis Creal runs these workings. Guess he's been running them +since the beginning. He's been running them in some sort of +partnership with the men at the Fort. He was Allan's partner, if I'm +wise to anything. He was Allan's partner and Murray's. And Allan was +murdered right here. He was murdered by these poor darn neches. And +the brain behind them was Louis Creal's. Do you get it now? Oh, it's +easy. That half-breed's turned, as they always turn when it suits +them. He's turned on his partners. And Murray knows it. That's why +Murray's got in his arms. It's clear as daylight. There's a +three-cornered scrap coming. Murray's going to clean out this outfit, +or lose his grip on the gold lying on this river for the picking up. +And Murray don't figger to lose a thing without a mighty big kick--and +not gold anyway. This feller, Creal, located us, and figgers to wipe +us off his slate. See? Say, Bill, I guessed long ago Bell River was +going to hand us some secrets. I guessed it would tell us how Allan +Mowbray died. Well, Louis Creal's going to pay. He's going to pay +good. Murray's wise. Gee, I can't but admire. Another feller would +have shouted. Another feller would have told the womenfolk all he +discovered when he found Allan Mowbray murdered. Can't you get his +play? He was Allan's friend. He kind of hoped to marry Jessie--some +day. He worked the whole thing out. He guessed he'd scare Mrs. +Mowbray and Jessie to death if he told them all that had happened. He +didn't want them scared, or they might quit the place. So he just +blamed the neches, and let if go at that. He handled the proposition +himself. There was Alec. He didn't guess it would be good Alec +butting in. Alec, for all he's Jessie's brother, wasn't bright. He +might get killed even. He'd be in the way--anyway. So he got him +clear of the Fort. Then he got a free hand. He shipped in an arsenal +of weapons, and he's going to outfit a big force. He's coming along up +here later, and it'll be him and Creal to the death. And it's odds on +Murray. Then the folk at the Fort can help themselves all they need, +and the world won't be any the wiser. It's a great play. But Alec's +death has queered it some. Do you get it--all? It's clear--clear as +daylight." + +"Ye-es." Again came that hesitating affirmative. But then Bill was +older, and perhaps less impressionable. + +Again Kars missed the hesitation. + +"Good," he said. "Now we'll get busy. Maybe we'll save Murray a deal +of trouble. He'd got me worried. I was half guessing----" He broke +off and sighed as though in relief. "But I've got it clear enough now. +And Louis Creal'll have to reckon with me first. We'll make back to +camp." + +Bill offered no comment. He watched the great figure of his companion +move towards the door. Nor was the nerve of the man without deep +effect upon him. Kars passed out on to the open plateau and instantly +a rain of bullets spat their vicious purpose all about him. Even as +Bill stepped out after him his feelings were absorbed in his admiration +of the other. + +The shots continued. They all came from the same direction, from the +woods across the river, somewhere just above their camp. It was Indian +firing. Its character was unmistakable. It was erratic, and many of +the shots failed hopelessly to reach the plateau at all. + +The movements of the two men were rapid without haste, and, as they +left the plateau, the firing ceased. + + +An hour later they were walking up the foreshore to their camp, and the +canoe was hauled up out of the water. The sluices were in full work +under the watchful eye of Abe Dodds. The thirsty Saunders was driving +his gang at the placers, from which was being drawn a stream of pay +dirt that never ceased from daylight to dark. They had heard the +firing, as had the whole camp, and they had wondered. But for the +present their responsibility remained with their labors. The safe +return of Kars and his companion nevertheless afforded keen +satisfaction. + +Bill smiled as they moved up towards their quarters. Curiously enough +the recent events seemed to have lightened his mood. Perhaps it was +the passing of a period of doubt. Perhaps the reconstruction of +Murray's doings, which Kars had set out so clearly, had had its effect. +It was impossible to say, for his shrewd eyes rarely told more than he +intended them to. + +"Makes you feel good when the other feller starts right in to play his +'hand,'" he said. + +Kars looked into the smiling face. He recognized in this man, whose +profession should have robbed him of all the elemental attributes, and +whose years should have suggested a desire for the ease of a successful +life, a real fighter of the long trail, and his heart warmed. + +"Makes you feel better when you know none of your 'suits' are weak," he +replied. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE DEPUTATION + +Kars was asleep. He was in the deep slumber of complete weariness in +the shanty which had been erected for his quarters, and was shared by +Bill. The bed was a mere pile of blankets spread out on a rough log +trestle which sufficiently raised it from the ground. + +It was a mean enough habitation. But it was substantial. Furthermore, +it was weather-proof, which was all these men required. Then, too, it +was set up in a position on the higher ground whence it overlooked the +whole camp, with a full view of the sluices, and the operations going +on about them. Adjacent were the stores, and the kitchens, all +sheltered by projections of the rocky foreshore, so that substantial +cover against hostile attack was afforded them. + +While Kars slept the defensive preparations he had designed were being +carried out feverishly under the watchful eyes of Bill and Abe Dodds, +with Joe Saunders a vigorous lieutenant. He had planned for every +possible emergency. Embankments of pay dirt were erected and +strengthened by green logs. Loopholes were arranged for concentrated +defence in any one direction. The water supply was there open to them, +direct from the river, which, in its turn, afforded them a safeguard +from a purely frontal attack. The Bell River Indians were no great +water men, so the chief defences were set up flanking along the shore. + +Kars had spent a day and two nights in unceasing labor, and now, at +last, the claims of nature would no longer be denied. He had fallen +asleep literally at his work. So the watchful doctor had accepted the +responsibility. And the great body was left to the repose which made +so small a claim upon it. + +There was no man who could fight harder than John Kars, there was no +man who could fight more intelligently. Just as no man could fight +fairer. He accepted all conditions as he found them, and met them as +necessity demanded. But all that was rugged in him remained untainted +through the years of his sojourn beyond the laws of civilization. +There were a hundred ways by which he could have hoped to survive. But +only one suited his temperament. Then he had closed the doors of +civilization behind him. He had metaphorically burnt his text-books, +if he ever really possessed any. He viewed nothing through the +pleasantly tinted glasses such as prevail where cities are swept and +garnished daily, and bodily comfort is counted more to be desired than +God-fear. He forgot that law and order must be paid for by a yearly +toll in currency. But he never failed to remember that a temple had +been raised in the human heart, erected firmly on the ashes of savagery. + +"Now for Mister Louis Creal!" + +It was the situation as he saw it. He by no means underrated the +threat of the Indians. But he drove straight to the root of the +matter. He believed the Indians had been bought body and soul by this +bastard white for his own ends. And his own end was the gold of Bell +River. It was his purpose to destroy all competition. He had murdered +one partner, or perhaps employer. He hoped, no doubt, to treat the +other white man similarly. Now he meant a similar mischief by this new +threat to his monopoly. Kars felt it was characteristic of the bastard +races. Well, he was ready for the fight. He had sought it. + +With that first enemy attempt on the plateau events moved rapidly. + +But they so moved on Kars' initiative. It was not his way to sit down +at the enemy's pleasure. His was the responsibility for the eighty men +who had responded to his call. He accepted it. He knew it would +demand every ounce of courage and energy he could put forth. His wits +were to be pitted against wits no less. The fate of Allan Mowbray, a +man far beyond the average in courage and capacity among men of the +long trail, told him this. So he had worked, and would work, to the +end. + +"The play's started good, boys," he had said to his white companions on +his return to the camp. "The gold can wait, I guess, till we've wiped +out this half-breed outfit. It's a game I know good, an' I'm going to +play it for a mighty big 'jack-pot.' It's up to you to hand me all I +need. After that the gold's open to all." + +Then he detailed the various preparations to be made at once, and +allotted to each man his task. He spoke sharply but without urgency. +And the simplicity of his ideas saved the least confusion. It was only +to Bill that his plans seemed hardly to fit with that cordial +appreciation which he had given expression to on the plateau. "Now for +Mister Louis Creal." So he had said. Yet all the plans were defensive +rather than offensive. + +Later this doubt found expression. + +"What about Louis Creal?" Bill asked in his direct fashion. + +And Kars' reply was a short, hard laugh. + +"That feller's for me," he replied shortly. + +That night a second trip was made across the river. This time with a +canoe laden with a small party of armed men. It was Kars who led, +while Bill remained behind in command of the camp. + +This mission was one of remorseless purpose. It was perhaps the most +difficult decision that Kars had had to force himself to. It hurt him. +It was a decision for the destruction of the things he loved. To him +it was like an assault against the great ruling powers of the Creator, +and the sin of it left him troubled in heart and conscience. Yet he +knew the necessity of it. None better. So he executed it, as he would +have executed any other operation necessary in loyalty to the men +supporting him and his purpose. + +It was midnight when the paddles dipped again for the return to the +camp, and the return journey was made under a light which had no origin +in any of the heavenly bodies, nor in the fantastic measure danced by +the brilliant northern lights. It was the blaze of a forest fire which +lit the gorge from end to end, and filled the air with a ruddy fog of +smoke, which reeked in the nostrils and set throats choking. + +It had been deliberately planned. The wind was favorable for safety +and success. It was blowing gently from the west. The fire was +started in six places, and the resinous pines which had withstood +centuries of storms yielded to the devouring flames with an ardent +willingness that was pitiful. The forests crowning the opposite walls +of the gorge were a desperate threat to the camp. They had to be made +useless to the enemy. They must be swept away, and to accomplish this +fire was the only means. + +Kars watched the dreadful devastation from the camp. His eyes were +thoughtful, troubled. He was paying the price which his desire for +achievement required. + +The dark of night was swept away by a furnace of flame. The waters of +the river reflected the glare, till they took on a suggestion of liquid +fire. The gloom of the gorge had passed, and left it a raging furnace, +and the fierceness of the heat beaded men's foreheads as they stood at +a distance with eyes filled with awe. + +Where would it end? A forest fire in a land of little else but forest +and waste. It was a question Kars dared not contemplate. So he thrust +it aside. And herein lay the difference between Bill Brudenell and +himself. Bill could contemplate the destruction from its necessity, +while a sort of sentimental terror claimed his imagination and forced +this question upon him. He felt that only the wind and Providence +could answer it. If the links were there, beyond those frowning +crests, between forest and forest, and the wind drifted favorably, the +fire might burn for years. It would be impossible to say where the +last sparks would burn themselves out. It was another of the tragedies +to be set at the door of man's quest of gold. + +"Makes you feel Nature's score against man's mounting big," he said, in +a tone there could be no mistaking. "Seems that's going to hurt her +mighty bad. She'll hit back one day. Centuries it's taken her +building that way. She's nursed it in the hollows, and made it strong +on the hills. She's made it good, and set it out for man's use. And +man's destroyed her work because he's got a hide he guesses to keep +whole. It's all a fearful contradiction. There doesn't seem much +sense to life anyway. And still the scheme goes right on, and I don't +guess a single blamed purpose is lost. Gee, I hate it." + +The truth of Bill's words struck home on Kars. But he had no reply. +He hated it, too. + +The roar of flame went on all night. The boom of falling trees. The +splitting and rending. The heat was sickening. Those who sought sleep +lay bare to the night air, for blankets were beyond endurance. Then +the smoke which clung to the open jaws of the gorge. The night breeze +seemed powerless to carry it away. + +With the outbreak of fire the Indian workings further up the river +awoke, too. A few stray figures foregathered at the water's edge. +Their numbers were quickly augmented. Long before the night was spent +a great crowd was watching the fierce destruction of the haunts which +it had known for generations. Fire is the Indian terror. And in the +heart of these benighted creatures a superstitious awe of it remains at +all times. Now they were panic-stricken. + +Towards morning the fire passed out of the gorge. It swept over the +crests of the enclosing hills and passed on, nursed by the fanning of +the western breeze. And as it passed away, and the booming and roaring +became more and more distant, so did the smoke-laden atmosphere begin +to clear. But a tropical heat remained behind for many hours. Even +the northland chill of spring failed to temper it rapidly. + +Kars had achieved his purpose. No cover remained for any lurking foe. +The hills across the river were "snatched" bald. Charred and +smoldering timbers lay sprawling in every direction upon the red-hot +carpet. Blackened stumps stood up, tombstones of the splendid woods +that once had been. There was no cover anywhere. None at all. No +lurking rifle could find a screen from behind which to pour death upon +the busy camp across the waters. The position was reversed. The +watchful defenders held the whole of those bald walls at the mercy of +their rifles. It was a strategic victory for the defenders, but it had +been purchased at a terrible cost. + +Kars' dreamless slumber was broken at last by the sharp voice of Bill +Brudenell, and the firm grip of a hand upon his shoulder. He awoke on +the instant, his mind alert, clear, reasoning. He had slept for ten +hours and all sense of fatigue had passed. + +"Say, I've slept good," was his first exclamation, as he sat up on his +blankets. Then his alert eyes glanced swiftly into the face before +him. "What's the time? And what's--doing?" + +"It's gone midday. And--there's visitors calling." + +Kars' attitude was one of intentness. + +"They started attacking?" he demanded. "I don't hear a thing." + +He rose from his bed, moved down to the doorway and stood gazing out. +His gaze encountered a group of men clustered together at a short +distance from the hut. He recognized Peigan Charley. He recognized +Abe Dodds, lean and silent. He recognized one or two of his own +fighting men. But there were others he did not recognize. And one of +them was an old, old weazened up Indian of small stature and squalid +appearance. + +"Visitors?" he said, without turning. + +Bill came up behind him. + +"A deputation," he said. "An old chief and three young men. They've +got a neche with them who talks 'white.' And they're not going to quit +till they've held a big pow-wow with the white chief, Kars. They've +got his name good. I'd say Louis Creal's got them well primed." + +"Yes." + +Kars glanced round the hut. And a half smile lit his eyes at the +meagre condition of the place. Bill's bed occupied one side of it. +His own the other. Between the two stood a packing case on end, which +served as a table. A bucket of drinking water stood in a corner with a +beaker beside it. For the rest there was a kit bag for a pillow at the +head of each bed, while underneath were ammunition cases filled with +rifle and revolver ammunition, and the walls were decorated with a +whole arsenal of weapons. But it lost nothing in its businesslike +aspect, and Kars felt that its impression would not be lost upon his +visitors. + +"The council chamber," he said. "Have 'em come right along, Bill. +Maybe they're going to hand us Louis Creal's bluff. Well, I guess +we're calling any old bluff. If they're looking for what they can +locate of our preparations they'll find all they need. They'll get an +elegant tale to hand Louis Creal when they get back." + +Five minutes later the capacity of the hut was taxed to its utmost. +Kars was seated on the side of his bed. Bill and Abe Dodds occupied +the other. The earth floor, from the foot of the bunks to the door, +was littered by a group of squatting figures clad in buckskin and +cotton blanket, and exhaling an aroma without which no Indian council +chamber is complete, and which is as offensive as it is pungent. +Peigan Charley, the contemptuous, blocked up the doorway ready at a +moment's notice to carry out any orders his "boss" might choose to give +him, and living in the hopes that such orders, when they came, might at +least demand violence towards these "damn neches" who had dared to +invade the camp. + +But his hopes were destined to remain unfulfilled. His boss was +talking easily, and in a friendliness which disgusted his retainer. He +seemed to be even deferring to this aged scallawag of a chief, as +though he were some one of importance. That was one of Charley's +greatest grievances against his chief. He was always too easy with +"damn-fool neches." Charley felt that these miserable creatures should +be "all shot up dead." Worse would come if these "coyotes" were +allowed to go free. There was no such thing as murder in his mind as +regards his own race. Only killing--which was, at all times, not only +justifiable, but a necessity. + +"The great Chief Thunder-Cloud is very welcome," Kars responded to the +interpreter's translation of the introduction. "Guess he's the big +chief of Bell River. The wise man of his people. And I'm sure he's +come right along to talk--in the interests of peace. Good. We're +right here for peace, too. Maybe Thunder-Cloud's had a look at the +camp as he came in. It's a peaceful camp, just set right here to chase +gold. No doubt his people, who've been around since we came, have told +him that way, too." + +As the white man's words were translated to him, the old Indian blinked +his inflamed eyes, from which the lids and under-lids seemed to be +falling away as a result of his extreme age. He wagged his head gently +as though fearful of too great effort, and his sagging lips made a +movement suggesting an approving expression, but failed physically to +carry out his intent. + +Bill was studying that senile, expressionless face. The skin hung +loose and was scored with creases like crumpled parchment. The low +forehead so deeply furrowed. The small eyes so offensive in their +inflamed condition. The almost toothless jaws which the lips refused +to cover. It was a hateful presence with nothing of the noble red man +about it. It was with relief he turned to the younger examples of what +this man had once been. + +But the chief was talking in that staccato, querulous fashion of old +age, and his white audience was waiting for the interpreter. + +It was a long time before the result came. When it did it was in the +scantiest of pigeon English. + +"Him much pleased with white man coming," said the interpreter with +visible effort at cordiality. "The great Chief Thunder-Cloud much good +friend to white man. Much good friend. Him say young men fierce--very +fierce. They fish plenty. They say white man come--no fish. White +man come, Indian man mak' much hungry. No fish. White man eat 'em all +up. Young man mak' much talk--very fierce. Young man say white man +burn up land. Indians no hunt. So. Indian man starve. Indian come. +Young men kill 'em all up dead. Or Indian man starve. So. White man +come, Indian man starve, too. White man go, Indian man eat plenty. +White man go?" + +The solemn eyes of the Indians were watching the white man's face with +expressionless intensity. They were striving to read where their +language failed them. Kars gave no sign. His eyes were steadily +regarding the wreck of humanity described as a "great chief." + +"White man burn the land because neche try to kill white man," he said +after a moment's consideration, in level, unemotional tones. "White +man come in peace. He want no fish. He want no hunt. He want only +gold--and peace. White man not go. White man stay. If Indian kill, +white man kill, too. White man kill up all Indian, if Indian kill +white man. Louis Creal sit by his teepee. He say white man come Louis +Creal not get gold. He say to Indian go kill up white man. White man +great friends with Indian. He good friend with Louis Creal, if Louis +Creal lies low. Indian man very fierce. White man very fierce, too. +If great Chief Thunder-Cloud not hold young men, then he soon find out. +Louis Creal, too. Much war come. Much blood. White man make most +killing. So." + +He waited while his reply was passed on to the decrepit creature, who, +for all his age and physical disability, was complete master of his +emotions. Thunder-Cloud listened and gave no sign. + +Then he spoke again. This time his talk was briefer and the +interpreter's task seemed easier. + +"Great Chief say him sorry for white man talk. Him come. Him good +friend to white man. Him old. Him very old. White man not go. Then +him say him finish. Him mak' wise talk to young men. Young men +listen. No good. Young men impatient. Young men say speak white man. +Speak plenty. Him not go? Then young man kill 'em all dead. So. +Thunder-Cloud sorry. Heap sorry." + +A shadowy smile flitted across Kars' rugged face. It found a +reflection in the faces of all his comrades. Even Charley's contempt +found a similar expression. + +Kars abruptly stood up. His great size brought him within inches of +the low, flat roof. His eyes had suddenly hardened. His strong jaws +were set. He no longer addressed himself to the aged chief. His eyes +were directed squarely into the eyes of the mean-looking interpreter. +Nor did he use any pigeon English to express himself now. + +"See right here, you neche," he cried, his tones strong, and full of +restrained force. "You can hand this on to that darn old bunch of +garbage you call a great chief. The play Louis Creal figgers on is +played right out. He murdered Allan Mowbray to keep this gold to +himself. Well, this gold ain't his, any more than it's mine. It's for +those who got the grit to take it. If he's looking for fight he's +going to get it plenty--maybe more than he's needing. We're taking no +chances. We're right here to fight--if need be. We're here to stop. +We're no quitters. We'll go when we fancy, and when we do the news of +this strike goes with us. Louis Creal tried to murder me here, and +failed, and took a bath instead. Well, if he's hoss sense he'll get it +his game's played. If he don't see it that way, he best do all he +knows. You an' this darn old scallawag have got just five minutes to +hit the trail clear of this camp. The whole outfit of you. Guess you +wouldn't get that much time only for the age of this bunch of the +tailings of a misspent life. Clear. Clear quick--the whole darn +outfit." + +All the dignity and formality of an Indian pow-wow were banished in a +moment. The interpreter conveyed the briefest gist of the white man's +words, even as he hastily scrambled to his feet. Kars' tone and manner +had impressed him as forcibly as his words. He was eager enough to get +away. The old man, too, was on his feet far quicker than might have +been expected, and he was making for the door with ludicrous haste, +which robbed his going of any of the ceremony with which he had entered +it. + +Charley stood aside, but with an air of protest. He would willingly +have robbed the old man of his last remaining locks. + +The hut was cleared, and the white men emerged into the open. The air +which still reeked of burning was preferable to the unwholesome stench +which these bestial northern Indians exhaled. + +They stood watching the precipitate retreat of their visitors. The +whole camp was agog, and looked on curiously. Even the Indian packmen +were stirred out of their usual indifference to things beyond their +labors. + +Bill laughed as the old man vanished beyond the piles of pay dirt, +which had been converted into defences. + +"Guess he's worried some," he said. + +Abe Dodds chewed and spat. + +"Worried? Gee, that don't say a thing--not a thing. Guess that old +guy ain't had a shake up like that since he first choked himself with +gravel when his momma wa'n't around. I allow Louis Creal, whoever he +is, is going to get an earful that'll nigh bust his drums." + +But Kars had no responsive smile. + +"They'll be on us by nightfall," he said quietly. "We need to get +busy." Then he suddenly called out. His voice was stern and +threatening. "Quit that, Charley! Quit it or by----!" + +His order came in the nick of time. All the pent-up spleen and hatred +of Peigan Charley had culminated in an irresistible desire. He had +seized a rifle from one of the camp Indians standing by, and had flung +himself on the banked up defences. Even as his boss shouted, his eye +was running over the sights, and his finger was on the trigger. + +He flung the weapon aside with a gesture of fierce disgust, and stood +scowling after the hurrying deputation, his heart tortured with the +injustice of his chief in robbing him of the joy of sheer murder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE BATTLE OF BELL RIVER + +The dark of night was creeping up the gorge. A gray sky, still heavy +with the smoke of the forest fire, made its progress easy and rapid. +The black walls nursed its efforts, yielding their influence upon the +deep valley below them. No star could penetrate the upper cloud banks. +The new-born moon was lost beyond the earth-inspired canopy. + +The fires of the great camp were out. No light was visible anywhere. +The fighting men were at their posts on the flanking embankments. +Reserves were gathered, smoking and talking in the hush of expectancy. +Further afield an outpost held the entrance to the gorge to the north +of the camp. A steep rugged split deeply wooded and dropping sharply +from the heights above to the great foreshore. It was an admirable +point to hold. No living soul could approach the camp from above that +way without running the gauntlet of the ambushed rifles in skilful +hands. No rush could make the passage, only costly effort. Nature had +seen to that. + +The white men leaders of the camp were squatting about the doorway of +the shanty which had witnessed the brief interview with the chief, +Thunder-Cloud. Kars occupied the sill of the doorway. His great body +in its thick pea-jacket nearly filled it up. Talk was spasmodic. Kars +had little enough inclination, and the others seemed to have exhausted +thought upon the work of preparations. + +Kars' thoughts were far away at the bald knoll of Fort Mowbray, and the +little Mission nestling at its foot. Out of the gray shadows of +twilight a pair of soft eyes were gazing pitifully into his, as he had +seen them gaze in actual life. His mind was passing over the tragic +incidents which had swept down upon that ruddy brown head with such +merciless force, and a tender pity made him shrink before his thought, +as no trouble of his own could have done. + +The moment was perhaps the moment for such feeling. It was the moment +preceding battle. It was the moment when each man realized that a +thousand chances were crowding. When the uncertainties of the future +were so many and so deeply hidden. Resolve alone was definite. Life +and purpose were theirs to-day. To-morrow? Who could say of tomorrow? +So it was that the mind groped back amongst memories which had the +greatest appeal. For Kars all his memories were now centred round the +home of the girl who had taught him the real meaning of life. + +Bill Brudenell was sitting on a rough log, within a yard or two. He, +too, was gazing out into the approaching night while he smoked on in +meditative silence. His keen face and usually twinkling eyes were +serious. He had small enough claims behind him. There was no woman in +his life to hold his intimate regard. The present was his, and the +future. The future had his life's work of healing in it. The present +held his friend, beside whom he was ranged in perfect loyalty against +the work of desperate men. + +His purpose? Perhaps he would have found it difficult to explain. +Perhaps he could not have explained at all. His was a nature that +demanded more than a life of healing could give him. There was the +ceaseless call of the original man in him. It was a call so insistent +that it must be obeyed, even while his mental attitude spurned the +folly of it. + +Abe Dodds was propped on an upturned bucket with his lean shoulders +squared against the log walls of the shanty. His jaw was moving +rhythmically as he chewed with nervous energy. The difference in him +from the others was the difference of a calculating mind always working +out the sum of life from a purely worldly side. He knew the values of +the Bell River strike to an ounce. It was his business to know. And +he was ready to pass through any furnace, human or hellish, to seize +the fortune which he knew was literally at his feet. There was neither +sentiment nor feeling in his regard of that which was yet to come. +This was the great opportunity. He had lived and struggled north of +"sixty" for this moment. He was ready to die if necessary for the +achievement of all it meant. + +The men sat on, each wrapped in his own mood as the pall of night +unfolded itself. The last word had been given to those at the +defences, and it had been full and complete. Joe Saunders held the +pass down from above. It had been at his own definite request. But +the moment attack came he would be supported by one of these three. It +was for this reason that he was absent from the final vigil of his +fellow leaders. + +It was Abe who finally broke the prolonged silence. He broke it upon +indifferent ears. But then he had not the same mood for silence. + +"There's every sort of old chance lying around," he observed, as though +following out his own long train of thought. "But I don't guess many +of 'em's worth while. There's fellers 'ud hand over any sense they +ever collected fer the dame that's had savvee to buy a fi' cent +perfume. 'Tain't my way. There's jest one chance for me. It's the +big boodle. I'm all in for that. Right up to my ear-drums." He +laughed and spat. "There's a mighty big world to buy, an' when you got +your fencing set up around it, why, there ain't a deal left outside +that's worth corrallin'. I'd say it's only the folk who fancy the +foolish house need to try an' buy a big pot on a pair o' deuces. If +you stand on a 'royal' you can grab most anything. I got this thing +figgered to a cent. When we're through there's those among us going to +make home with a million dollars--cold." + +"Ye-es." + +Dr. Bill removed his pipe. His gaze was turned on the engineer, whose +vigorous mind was searching only one side of the task before them. The +side which appealed to him most. + +"That million don't worry me a cent," he went on. "If life's just a +matter of buying and selling you're li'ble to get sick of it quick." + +Abe's eyes shot a swift glance in the doctor's direction. + +"Then what brings you up to Bell River?" he exclaimed. "It ain't a +circumstance as a health resort." + +Bill smiled down at his pipe. + +"Much the same as you, I guess," he said. "Say, you're talking +dollars. You're figgering dollars. You've got a nightmare of all you +can buy with those dollars." He shook his head. "Turn over. Maybe +that way you'd see things the way they are with you. Those dollars are +just a symbol. You fix your eye on them. It isn't winning the 'pot' +with a 'royal.' It isn't winning anyway. It's the play that gets you. +If you could walk right into the office of the president of a state +bank, and come out of it with a roll of a million, with no more effort +than it needed pushing one foot in front of another, guess you'd as +soon light your two dollar cigar with a hundred dollar bill as a +'Frisco stinker. I've seen a heap of boys like you, Abe. I've seen +them sweat, and cuss, and work like a beaver for a wage, and they've +been as happy as a doped Chinaman. I've seen them later, when the +dollars come plenty, and they're so sick there isn't dope enough in +Leaping Horse can make them feel good. Guess I'm right here because +it's good to live, and fight, and work, same as man was meant to. The +other don't cut much ice, unless it is the work's made things +better--someways." + +Abe spat out his chew and sat up. His combative spirit, which was +perhaps his chief characteristic, was easily stirred. + +"It ain't stuff of that sort made John Kars the richest guy in Leaping +Horse. It ain't that play set him doping around 'inside' where there +ain't much else but cold, and skitters, and gold. It ain't that play +set him crazy to make Bell River with an outfit to lick a bunch of +scallawag neches. No, sir. He's wise to the value of dollars in a +world where there's nothing much else counts. There ain't no joy to +life without 'em. An' you just can't live life without joy. If you're +fixed that way, why, you'll hit the trail of the long haired crank, or +join the folk who make a pastime of a penitentiary. The dollars for +mine. If they come on a cushion of down I'll handle 'em elegant with +kid gloves on my hands. I'm sick chasin'--sick to death." + +Kars became caught in the interest of the talk. His dream picture +faded in the shades of night, and the reality of things about him +poured in upon him. He caught at the thread of discussion in his +eager, forceful way. + +"You ain't right, Abe, and Bill, here, too, is wrong," he said, in his +amiably decided fashion. "Human life's just one great big darn foolish +'want.' It's the wage we're asking for all we do. Don't make any +Sunday-school mistake. We're asking pay for every act we play, and the +purse of old Prov is open most all the time. We all got a grouch set +up against life. Most of us know it. Some don't. If I know anything +of human nature we'd all squat around waiting till the end, doping our +senses without restraining the appetite Nature gave us, if it wasn't +for that blamed wage we're always yearning after. It's the law we've +got to work, and Prov sets the notion in us we want something as the +only way to keep our noses to the grinding mill. Those dollars ain't +the end of your want. They're just a kind of symbol, as Bill +says--till you've got 'em. After that you'll still be yearning for the +big opportunity same as you've been right along up to now. It's just +the symbol'll be diff'rent. You'll work, and cuss, and sweat, and +fight, just the same as you're ready to do now. You'll still be biting +the heels of old Prov for more. And Prov'll dope it out when you've +worked plenty, and He figgers you've earned your wage. Bill's here on +the same argument. He's got the dollars he needs, but he's still +chasing that wage. Maybe his wage is diff'rent from yours or mine. +Y'see he's quite a piece older. But he's worrying old Prov just as +hard. Bill's here because his notions of things lie along the line of +doping out healing to the poor darn fools who haven't the sense to keep +themselves whole. It don't matter who's going to be better for his +work on this layout. But when he's through, why, he'll open out his +hands to old Prov, and Prov'll dope out his wage. And that wage'll +come to him plenty when he sets around smoking his foul old pipe over a +stove, and thinks back--all to himself." + +He smiled with a curious twisted sort of smile as he gazed almost +affectionately at the loyal little man of medicine. Then he turned +again to the night which now hid the last outlines of the stern old +gorge, as he went on. + +"As for me the dollars in this gorge couldn't raise a shadow of joy." +He shook his head. "And if I told you the wage I'm asking, maybe you'd +laff till your sides split up. I'm not telling you the wage old +Prov'll have to hand out my way. But to me it's big. So big your +million dollars couldn't buy a hundredth part of it. No, sir. Nor a +thousandth. And maybe when Prov has checked my time sheet, and handed +out, He won't be through by a sight. I'll still be yepping at His +heels for more, only the--symbol'll kind of be changed. Meanwhile----" + +He broke off listening. Abe started to his feet. Bill deliberately +knocked out his pipe on the log, while his eyes were turned along the +foreshore in the direction of the Indian workings. Kars heaved himself +to his feet and stood with his keen eyes striving to penetrate the +darkness in the same direction. + +"--We're going to start right in earning that wage--now!" + +A hot rifle fire swept over the camp with reckless disregard of all +aim. It came with a sharp rattle. The bullets swept on with a biting +hiss, and some of them terminated their careers with a vicious "splat" +against the great overhang of rock or the woodwork of the trestle-built +sluices. + +In an instant the deadly calm of the night was gone, swept away by the +sound of many voices, and the rush of feet, and the answering fire of +the defenders. + +The battle of Bell River had begun. The white men had staked their all +in the great play, confident they held the winning hand. The +alternative from complete victory for them had one hard, definite +meaning. There was no help but that which lay in their own hands, +their own wits. Death, only, was on the reverse of the victory they +were claiming from Providence. + +A fierce pandemonium stirred the bowels of the night. The rattle of +musketry with its hundreds of needle-points of flame joined the chorus +of fiercely straining human voices. The black calm of night was rent +to shreds, leaving in its place only the riot of cruel, warring +passions. + +The white men leaders and their men received the onslaught of the +savage horde with the steadfastness of a full understanding of the +meaning of defeat. They were braced for the shock with the nerve of +men who have bitterly learned the secret of survival in a land haunted +with terror. No heart-quail showed in the wall of resistance. The +secret emotions had no power before the realization of the horror which +must follow on defeat. The shadow of mutilation, of torture, of +unspeakable death made brave the surest weakling. + +Many of the defenders were Indian, like the attacking horde, though of +superior race. Some were bastard whites, that most evil thing in human +production in the outlands. A few were white, other than the leaders. +Men belonging to that desperate crew always clinging to the fringe of +human effort, where wealth is won by the lucky turn of the spade. +Reckless creatures who live sunk in the deeps of indulgence of the +senses, and without a shred of the conscience with which they were +born. It was a collection of humanity such as only a man of Kars' +characteristics could have controlled. But for a desperate adventure +it might well have been difficult to find its equal. It was their +mission to fight, generally against the laws of society. But fight was +their mission, and they would fulfil it. + +They were ready braced at their posts, and their leaders were in their +midst. The fierce yelling of advancing Indians was without effect. +They met the onslaught at close quarters with a fire as coldly +calculated as it was merciless. The rush of assault was doubtless +calculated to brush all defence aside in the first attack. But as well +might the Bell River leaders have hoped to spurn ferro concrete from +their path. The method was old. It was tried. It was as old as the +ages since the red man was first permitted to curse the joys of a +beautiful world. It was brave as only the savage mind understands +bravery. But it was as impotent before the defence as the beating of +captive wings against the iron bars of a cage. + +The insensate horde came like the surging tide of driven waters. It +reeled before the flaming weapons like rollers on a breakwater. There +came the swirl and eddy. Then, in desperate defeat, it dropped back to +gather fresh impetus from the volume behind. + +The conflict was shadowy, yet searching eyes outlined without +difficulty the half-naked, undersized forms as they came. There was +nothing wild in the defence. Fire was withheld till the moment of +contact. Then it poured out at pointblank range. + +The carnage of that first onslaught was horrible. But the defenders +suffered only the lightest casualties. They labored under no delusion. +The attack would come again and again in the hope of creating a breach, +and that breach was the thought in each leader's mind. Its prevention +was his sheet anchor of hope. Its realization was his nightmare. + +The tide of men surged once more. It came on under a rain of reckless +fire. The black wings of night were illuminated with a fiery sparkle, +and the smell of battle hung heavily on the still air. Kars shouted +encouragement to his men. + +The response was all he could desire. The Indians surged to the +embankment only to beat vainly, and to fall back decimated. But again +and again they rallied, their temper growing to a pitch of fury that +suggested the limit of human endurance. The defence was hard put to +it, and only deliberation, and the full knowledge of consequences, +saved the breach. + +The numbers seemed endless, rising out of the black beyond only to take +shape at the rifle muzzle. Thought and action were simultaneous. Each +rifle was pressed tight into the shoulder, while the hot barrel hurled +its billet of death deep into the dusky bodies. + +For Kars those moments were filled to the brim with the intoxicating +elixir demanded by his elemental nature. He fought with a disregard of +self that left its mark upon all those who were near by. He spared +nothing, and his "automatic" drove terror, as well as death, into the +hearts of those with whom he was confronted. It was good to fight for +life in any form. The life of ease and security had small enough +attraction for him. But now--now he fought with the memory of the +wrongs which, through these creatures, had been inflicted upon the girl +who had taught him the true meaning of life. + +Bill was no less stirred, but he possessed another incentive. He +fought till the first casualties in the defence claimed mercy in +exchange for the merciless, and he was forced regretfully to obey the +demands of his life's mission. All his ripeness of thought, all his +philosophy, gleaned under the thin veneer of civilization, had been +swept away by the tidal wave of battle. The original man hugged him to +his bosom, and he rested there content. + +With Abe Dodds emotion held small place. A cold fury rose under the +lash of motive. It was the motive of a man ready at all times to spurn +obstruction from his path. His heart was without mercy where his +interests were threatened. These creatures were a wolf pack, from his +view-point, and he yearned to shoot them down as such. Like Peigan +Charley his desire was that every shot should sink deeply into the +bowels of the enemy. + +In a moment of lull Bill dragged a wounded man off the embankment at +Kars' side. Kars withdrew his searching gaze from the dark beyond. + +"How's things?" he demanded. His voice was thick with a parching +thirst. + +"He's the fifth." + +Bill's reply was preoccupied. Kars was thinking only of the defence. + +"Bully!" he exclaimed. It was the appreciation of the fighter. He had +no thought for anything else. "We'll get 'em hunting their holes by +daylight," he went on. Then suddenly he turned back. His rifle was +ready, and he spoke over his shoulder. + +"There's just one thing better than chasing the long trail, Bill. It's +scrap." + +With a fierce yell a dusky form leaped out of the darkness. He sprang +at the embankment with hatchet upraised. Kars' rifle greeted him and +he fell in his tracks. + +Bill shouldered his wounded burden. A grim smile struggled to his lips +as he bore it away. Nor did his muttered reply reach his now +preoccupied friend. + +"And we cuss the poor darn neche for a savage." + + +It was midnight before the final convulsions of the great storming +assaults showed a waning. The first signs were the lengthening +intervals between the rushes. Then gradually the rushes lessened in +determination and only occasionally did they come to close quarters. +To Kars the signs were the signs he looked for. They were to him the +signs of first victory. But no vigilance was relaxed. The stake was +far too great. None knew better than he the danger of relaxing effort +under the assurance of success. And so the straining eyes of the +defence were kept wide. + +Minutes crept by, passed under a desultory fire from the distance. The +bullets whistled widely overhead, doing no damage to life. The time +lengthened into half an hour and still no fresh assault came. Kars +stirred from his place. He wiped the muck sweat from his forehead, and +passed down the line of embankment to where Abe Dodds held command. + +"We got to get the boys fed coffee and sow-belly," he said. + +Abe with his watchful eyes on the distance replied reluctantly. + +"Guess we'll have to." + +Kars nodded. + +"I sent word to the cook-house. Pass 'em along in reliefs. There's no +figgerin' on the next jolt. We can't take chances--yet." + +"We'll have to--later." + +Again Kars nodded. + +"That's how I figger. But we got to get through this night first. +There's no chances this night. Pass your men along easy. Hold 'em up +on the least sign of things doing." + +He was gone in a moment. And the operation he had prescribed for Abe's +men was applied to his own. + +Another hour passed and still there was no sign from the enemy. It +almost seemed as if the victory had been more complete for the defence +than had at first been thought. The men were refreshed, and the rest +was more than welcome. Kars refused to leave his post. For all his +faith in the defence he trusted the vigilance of no one. + +A meal of sorts was sent down to him from the cook-house, and he shared +it with the stalwart ruffian, Abe, and, for the most part, they +quenched their thirst with the steaming beverage in silence. The +thought of each man was busy. Both were contemplating the ultimate, +rather than the effort of the moment. + +Abe was the first to yield to the press of thought. + +"How's Bill doin'?" he demanded. "What's the figures? I lost four." + +"Wounded--only?" + +"Wounded." + +"Guess that raises the tally." + +"How about your boys?" + +Kars gazed in the direction of the rough storehouse now converted into +a hospital. + +"I'd say five. Bill was here a while back. He reckoned he'd got five +then." + +Abe laughed. It was not a mirthful laugh. He rarely gave way to +mirth. Purpose had too profound a hold on him. + +"Figger up nine by eight nights like this and you ain't got much of a +crowd out of eighty." + +Kars' eyes came swiftly to the lean face shadowed under the night. + +"No." Then he glanced in the direction whence came the reckless Indian +fire. "You mean we can't sit around, and let the neches play their own +war game. That so?" + +"Guess it seems that way." + +"I don't reckon they're going to." Kars tipped out the coffee grounds +from his pannikin with unnecessary force. He laid the cup aside and +turned on the engineer. "Say, boy," he cried, with a deliberate +emphasis, "I've got this thing figgered from A to Z. I've spent months +of thought on it. You're lookin' on the dollars lying around, and +you're yearning to grab them plenty. It's a mighty strong motive. But +it's not a circumstance beside mine. I'd lose every dollar in my bank +roll; I'd hand up my life without a kick, rather than lose this game. +Get me? Say, don't you worry a thing, so we hold this night through. +That's what matters in my figgering. If we hold this night, I got a +whole stack of aces and things in my sleeve. And I'm goin' to play +'em, and play 'em--good." + +The assurance of his manner had a deep effect. Passivity of resistance +at no time appealed to the forceful Abe. Aggression was the chief part +of his doctrine of life. He was glad to hear his chief talk in that +fashion. + +"That talk suits me," he said readily. "I----" + +He broke off, his eyes searching the distance, his hearing straining. +Kars, too, had turned, searching beyond the embankment. + +"It's coming," he said. "It's coming plenty." + +But Abe had not waited. His lean figure was swallowed up in the +darkness as he made off to his post where his men were already +assembled. + +In less than two minutes the battle was raging with all its original +desperation. The black night air was filled with the fury of yelling +voices which vied with the rattle of firearms for domination. Bare, +shadowy bodies hurled themselves with renewed impetus against the +defences, and went down like grain before the reaper. + +The embankments were held with even greater confidence. Earlier +experience, the respite; these things had made their contribution, a +contribution which told heavily against the renewed assault. + +Kars wondered. He had said these men were like sheep. Now they were +like sheep herded on to the slaughter-house. The senselessness of it +was growing on him with his increased confidence. It all seemed +unworthy of the astute half white mind lying behind the purpose. These +were the thoughts which flashed through his mind as he plied his +weapons and encouraged the men of his command, and they grew in +conviction with each passing moment. + +But there was more wit in it all than he suspected. + +The battle was at its height. The insensate savages came on, +regardless of the numbers who fell. The whole line of defence was +resisting with all the energy and resource at its disposal. Then came +the diversion. + +It came by water. It came with a swirl of paddles in the black void +enveloping the great river. Out of the darkness grew the shadowy +outlines of four laden canoes, and the beaching of the craft was the +first inkling Abe Dodds, who held the left defences, had of the +adventure. + +Action and thought were almost one with him. Claiming the men nearest +him he hurled himself on the invaders with a ferocity which had for its +inspiration a full understanding of the consequences of disaster in +such a direction. Outflanking stared at him with all its ugly meaning, +and as he went he shouted hoarsely back to Kars his ill-omened news. +Kars needed no second warning. He passed the call on to Bill. He +claimed the reinforcement which only desperate emergency had the right +to demand. Then he flung himself to the task of making good the +depleted defence where Abe had withdrawn his men. + +The crisis was more deadly than could have seemed possible a moment +before. The whole aspect of the scene had been changed. The breach, +that dreaded breach with all its deadly meaning, was achieved in +something that amounted only to seconds. + +The neches swarmed on the embankments on the lower foreshore. The +defenders who had been left were driven back before the fierce +onslaught. They were already giving ground when Kars flung himself to +their support. The whole position looked like being turned. + +It was no longer a battle of coldly calculated method. Here at least +it had become a conflict where individual nerve and ability alone could +win out. Already some dozen of the half-nude savages had forced +themselves across the embankment, and more were pressing on behind. It +was a moment to blast the sternest courage. It was a moment when the +whole edifice of the white man's purpose looked to be tottering, if not +falling headlong. Kars understood. He had the measure of the threat +to the last fraction, and he flung himself into the battle with a +desperateness of energy and resolve that bore almost immediate fruit. + +His coming had checked the breaking of the defenders. But he knew it +was like patching rotten material. His influence could not last +without Bill and his reinforcements. He plied his guns with a +discrimination which no heat or excitement could disturb, and the first +invaders fell under his attack amidst a din of fierce-throated cries. +His men rallied. But he knew they were fighting now with a shadow at +the back of their minds. It was his purpose to remove that shadow, and +he strove with voice and act to do so. + +The first support of his coming passed with the emptying of his +pistols. He flung them aside without a moment's hesitation, and +grabbed a rifle from a fallen neche. It was the act of a man who knew +the value of every second gained. He knew, even more, the value of his +own gigantic strength. + +The weapon in his hands became a far-reaching club. And, swinging it +like a fiercely driven flail, he rushed into the crowd of savages, +scattering them like chaff in a gale. The smashing blows fell on heads +that split under their superlative force, and the ground about him +became like a shambles. In a moment he discovered another figure in +the shadowy darkness, fighting in a similar fashion, and he knew by the +crude, disjointed oaths which were hurled with each blow, so full of a +venomous hate, that Peigan Charley had somehow come to his support. +His heart warmed, and his onslaught increased in its bitter ferocity. + +He was holding. Just holding the rush, and that was all. Without the +reinforcements he had claimed he could not hope to drive his attack +home. He knew. Nor did he attempt to blind himself. The whole thing +was a matter of minutes now. Defeat, complete disaster hung by a +thread, and the fever of the knowledge fired his muscles to an effort +that was almost superhuman. + +He drove his way through the raging savages, whose crude weapons for +close quarters were aimed at him from every direction. He was fighting +for time. He was fighting to hold--simply hold. He was fighting to +demoralize the rush, and drive terror into savage hearts. And he knew +his limits were steadily approaching. + +His first call had reached the ears of the man for whom it was +intended. Nor had they been indifferent. A call for help from Kars +was an irresistible clarion of appeal to Bill Brudenell. Mercy? There +was no consideration of healing or mercy could claim him from his +friend's succor. He flung aside his drugs, his bandages. He had no +thought for his wounded. He had no thought for himself. + +To collect reinforcements from the northern defences was the work of a +few minutes. Even the elderly breed cook at the cook-house was +claimed, though his only weapons were an ancient patterned revolver and +a pick-haft he had snatched up. Fifteen men in all he was able to +collect and at the head of them he rushed for the battle-ground. + +Nor was he a moment too soon. Kars' vigor was rapidly exhausting +itself. Peigan Charley was fighting with a demoniac fury, but +weakening. The handful of men who were still supporting were nearly +defeated. + +Bill knew the value of creating panic. As he came he set up a yell. +His men took it up, and it sounded like the advance of a legion of +demons. In a moment they were caught in the whirl of battle, and the +flash of their weapons lit the scene, while the clatter of firearms, +and the hoarse-throated shouting, gave an impression of overwhelming +force. Back reeled the yelling horde in face of the onslaught. Back +and still back. Confusion with those pressing on behind set up a +panic. The wretched creatures fell like flies in the darkness. Then +came flight. Headlong flight. The panic which Bill had sought. + +In half an hour from the moment of the first break the position was +restored. Within an hour Kars knew the Battle of Bell River had been +won. But it had been won at a cost he had never reckoned upon. The +margin of victory had been the narrowest. + +Abe had been able to complete his work in the cold businesslike manner +which was all his own. The attack from the river was an unsupported +diversion with forces limited to its need. How nearly it had succeeded +no doubt remained. But in that direction Abe's heavy hand had fallen +in no measured fashion. Those of the landing party who were not +awaiting burial on the foreshore were meeting death in the deep waters +of the swiftly flowing river. Even the smashed canoes were flotsam on +the bosom of the tide. + +The battle degenerated from the moment of the failure of the intended +breach. There was no further attack in force. Small, isolated raids +came at intervals only to be swept back by rifle fire from the +embankments. These, and a desultory and notoriously wild fire, which, +to the defence, was a mere expression of impotent, savage rage, wore +the long night through. Kars had achieved his desire. The night had +been fought out, and the defence had held. + + +Kars was standing in the doorway of the storehouse where Bill was +calmly prosecuting his work of mercy. The doctor's smallish figure was +moving rapidly about the crowded hut. His preoccupation was heart +whole. He had eyes and thought for nothing but those injured bodies +under their light blanket coverings, and the groans of suffering that +came from lips, which, in health, were usually tainted with blasphemy. + +All Kars' thoughts were at the moment concerned with the busy man. +That array of figures had already told him its story. A painful story. +A story calculated to daunt a leader. Just now he was thinking how his +debt to this man was mounting up. Years of intimate friendship had +been sealed by incident after incident of devotion. Now he felt that +he owed his present being to the prompt response to his signal of +distress. But Bill had never failed him. Bill would never fail when +loyalty was demanded. He breathed devotion in every act of his life. +There could be no thanks between them. There never had been thanks +between them. Their bond was too deep, too strong for that. + +The dull lamplight revealed the makeshift of the hospital. There were +no bunks, only the hard earthen floor cleared of stones. Its log walls +were stopped with mud to keep the weather out. A packing case formed +the table on which the doctor's instruments were laid out. It was +rough, uncouth. Its inadequacy was only mitigated by the skill and +gentle mercy of the man. + +Kars' voice broke in upon the doctor's preoccupation. + +"Twenty," he said. "Twenty out of eighty." + +Bill glanced up from the wounded head he was dressing. + +"And the fight just started." + +Kars stirred from the support of the door-casing which had served to +rest his weary body. + +"Yes," he admitted. + +Then he turned away. There seemed to be nothing further to add. He +drew a deep breath as he moved into the open. + +A moment later he was moving with rapid strides in the direction of the +battle-ground. A hard light was shining in his steady eyes, his jaws +were sternly set. All feeling of the moment before had passed. The +gray of dawn was spreading over the eastern sky. His nightmare was +over. There was only left for him the execution of those plans he had +so carefully worked out during the long days of preparation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HARVEST OF BATTLE + +The sun rose on a scene of great activity. It was the garnering of the +harvest of battle. The light of day smiled down on this oasis on a +barren foreshore of Bell River and searched it from end to end. It was +so small in the immensity of its surroundings. Isolated, cut off from +all outside help, it looked as though a deep breath of the Living +Purpose of Life must have swept it away like some ant heap lying in the +path of a thrusting broom. Yet it had withstood the shock of battle +victoriously, and those surviving were counting the harvest. + +But there was no smile in the heart of man. A hundred dead lay +scattered on the foreshore. They congested the defences of the camp. +They had even breathed their last agony within the precincts which they +had sought to conquer. Mean, undersized, dusky-skinned, half-nude +creatures sprawled everywhere, revealing in their attitudes something +of that last suffering before the great release. Doubtless the price +had been paid with little enough regret, for that is the savage way. +It was for their living comrades to deplore the loss, but only for the +serious depletion of their ranks. + +The victorious defenders had no thought beyond the blessings of the +harvest. They had no sympathy to waste. These dead creatures were so +much carrion. The battle was the battle for existence which knows +neither pity nor remorse. + +So the dead clay was gathered and thrown to its last rest on the bosom +of the waters, to be borne towards the eternal ice-fields of the Pole, +or lie rotting on barren, rock-bound shores, where only the cries of +the wilderness awaken the echoes. There was no reverence, no ceremony. +The perils of existence were too near, too real in the minds of these +men. + +With the last of the human sheaves disposed of the real work of the day +began under the watchful eyes of the leaders. The garrison was divided +in half. One-half slept while the other half labored at the defences. +Only the leaders seemed to be denied the ease of body their night's +effort demanded. Picks and shovels were the order of the day, and all +the shortcomings of the defences, discovered during battle, were made +good. The golden "pay dirt" which had drawn the sweepings of Leaping +Horse into the service of John Kars was the precious material of +salvation. + +The fortifications rose on all sides. The river front was no longer +neglected. None could say whence the next attack would come. None +could estimate for sure the subtleties of the bastard white mind which +had so long successfully manipulated the secret of Bell River. + +Not a man but had been impressed by the battle of the night. Not a man +but knew that the losses in defence had been detrimentally +disproportionate. Life to them was sweet enough. But even greater +than the passionate desire to live was lust for possession of the +treasure upon which their feet trod. + +So they worked with a feverish effort. Nothing must be spared. +Nothing neglected that could make for security. + +The leaders conferred, and planned. And the result was concrete +practice. Kars was the guiding spirit, and Abe Dodds was the +machine-like energy that drove the labor forward. Bill took no part in +the work. His work lay in one direction only, and it was a work he +carried out with a self-sacrifice only to be expected from him. His +hospital was full to overflowing, and for all his skill, for all his +devotion, five times, during the day, bearers had to be summoned to +carry out the cold remains of one of their comrades. + +The question in all minds was a speculation as to whether a fresh +attack would mature on the second night. This speculation was confined +to the rank and file of the outfit. The clearer vision of the leaders +searched their own understanding of the position. It was pretty +definitely certain there would be no attack in force. The enemy had +hoped for a victory as the result of surprise and overwhelming odds. +It had failed. It had failed disastrously. The Indians were supposed +to be five hundred strong. They had lost a fifth of their force +without making any apparent impression on the defenders. There could +be no surprise on the second night. It would take longer than twelve +hours to spur the Indians to a fresh attack of a similar nature. + +No, there would be no attack of a serious nature--yet. And Kars +unfolded the plans he had so carefully thought out long months ago. He +set them before his three companions late in the afternoon, and +detailed them with a meticulous care and exactness which revealed the +clarity of vision he had displayed in their construction. + +But they were not plans such as these men had expected. They were +daring and subtle, and they involved a risk only to be contemplated by +such a nature as that of their author. But they promised success, if +fortune ran their way. And in failure they would be left little more +embarrassed than they now stood. + +The meeting terminated as it was bound to terminate with Kars guiding +its council. Joe Saunders, whose mentality limited him to a good +fight, and the understanding of a prospector's craft, had neither demur +nor suggestion. Bill admitted he had no better proposition to offer, +and only stipulated that his share in the scheme should be completely +adequate. Abe protested at the work imposed upon him, but admitted its +necessity. + +"Sit around this layout punchin' daylight into the lousy carcases of a +bunch of neches, while you an' Doc here get busy, seems to me a sort o' +Sunday-school game I ain't been raised to. It's a sort of pie that +ain't had no sweetenin', I guess. An' my stomach's yearnin' for sugar. +That play of yours has got me itching to take a hand. Still, I guess +this darn ol' camp needs holding up, an' if you need me here you can +count me in to the limit." + +Kars nodded unsmilingly. He knew Abe, second only to his knowledge of +Bill Brudenell. That limit was a big one. It meant all he desired. + +"It had to be you or Bill, Abe," he said. "I fixed on you because you +got the boys of this camp where you need them. You'll get all the +fight out of them when you want it. The Doc, here, can dope 'em all +they need, but he hasn't spent half his days driving for gold with an +outfit of scallawags same as you have. Hold this camp to the limit, +boy, and when the work's through I don't guess your share in things'll +be the least. I'm going to bank on you as I've never banked before. +And I don't worry a thing." + +It was a tribute as generous as it was diplomatic, and its effect was +instantaneous. + +"It goes, chief," exclaimed the engineer, with the nearest approach to +real enthusiasm he ever permitted himself. "The limit! An' they'll +need a big bank roll of fight to call my hand." + +Half an hour later Peigan Charley was surprised into wakefulness under +the southern embankment, where he had fallen asleep over his pipe. His +boss was standing over him, gazing down at him with steady, gray, +unsmiling eyes. The scout was sitting up in a moment. He was not yet +certain what the visitation portended. + +"Had a good sleep, Peigan?" Kars demanded, + +"Him sleep plenty, boss." + +"Good." + +Kars turned and glanced out over the great volume of water passing down +the river in a ponderous tide. Peigan Charley waited in mute, +unquestioning fashion for what was to come. + +Presently Kars turned back to his trusted henchman. He began to talk +rapidly. And as he talked the scout thrust his pipe away into a pocket +in his ragged coat, which had once formed part of his boss's wardrobe. +He stood up. Nor did he interrupt. The keen light in his big black +eyes alone betrayed any emotion. There was no doubt as to the nature +of that emotion. For the sparkle in them grew, and robbed them of the +last shadow of their native lack of expression. + +Following upon his boss's words came the Indian's brief but cordial +expression of appreciation. Then came a few minutes of sharp question, +and eager reply. And, at last, came Kars' final injunctions. + +"Well, you'll get right up to the cook-house and eat your belly full. +Get fixed that way good. Maybe you'll need it. Then start right in, +when it's dark, and don't pass word to a soul, or I'll rawhide you. +Get this good. If the neches get wise to you the game's played, and +we've lost." + +The Indian's reply came on the instant, and it was full to the brim of +that contempt which the mention of his race never failed to arouse. + +"Damn fool neche not know," he said icily. + +Kars watched him set out for the cook-house. Then he moved over to the +hospital where Bill was at work. + +He passed within the crude storehouse. He had not come out of any +curiosity. He had not come to contemplate the havoc wrought on the +bodies of this flotsam of dissolute life. He had come for the simple +purpose of offering some cheer in the darkness of suffering. + +For all the ruggedness of exterior displayed by this man when the call +of the northern wilderness claimed him, deep in his heart there were +warm fires glowing which the bond of loyal comradeship never failed to +fan. These Breeds and scallawag Indians were no less to him for their +color, or their morals. They were fighters--fighters of the trail like +himself. It was enough. + + +A desultory rifle fire played over the camp. It was the signal of +passing day. It was a reminder that the day's cessation of hostilities +marked no abatement in the enemy's purpose. The defence was at its +post. A long line of rifles held their vicious muzzles searching for a +target that would repay. Wastage of ammunition was strictly forbidden. +The night, like its predecessor, was obscure. The targets were far +off, and, as yet, invisible. So the defence remained unanswering, but +ready. + +Beyond the new defences on the river front a shadowy figure was +stirring. His movements were stealthy. His moccasined feet gave out +no sound. But there was sound. It was the muffled grating of +something being slid over the gravelly beach at the water's edge. Then +came a gentle splash of water. It was scarcely more than the sound of +a leaping fish. After that came the lapping of the stream against an +obstruction to its course. + +The figure stood up, tall and slim. The rawhide rope in his hand +strung taut. A moment later he secured the end of it by the simple +process of resting a small boulder upon its knotted extremity. + +The canoe had swung to the stream and lay in against the river bank. +The silent figure stooped over its gunwale and deposited various +articles within its shallow depths. It was the merest cockle-shell of +stoutly strutted bark, a product of the northland Indian which leaves +modern invention far behind in the purpose for which it is designed. + +The sound of a footstep on the beach drew the crouching figure to its +full height. Then, at the sound of a familiar voice, all suspicion +died out. + +"All fixed right, Charley?" + +"Sho', boss. Him fix plenty good." + +"Got sow-belly an'--hardtack? Maybe you'll need him. Gun? Plenty +cartridge?" + +"Him plenty--all thing." + +"Good. Say, you need to get around before daylight. Good luck." + +The Indian grunted his reply while he stooped again to release the +rawhide painter. Then, with a nice sense of balance, he sprang lightly +into the shell-like vessel. + +John Kars waited only till he heard the muffled dip of the paddle. +Then he withdrew, a sigh escaping him, an expression of pent feeling +which had hope and doubt closely intermingling for its inspiration. He +passed up to the defences for his second night's vigil. He had +arranged that Abe should sleep unless emergency demanded otherwise. + + +The night passed without incident. Kars was thankful. It was so much +valuable time gained. The labors had been hard following upon the +night of battle. The whole garrison had needed rest. This had been +achieved by systematic relief, which was almost military in its method. +But sleep had been taken at the defences. There had been no relaxing +of vigilance. Nor had the enemy any intention of permitting it. His +loose fire went on the whole time, stirring the echoes of the gorge in +protest at the disturbance of the night. + +Towards morning Kars and Bill were at the water's edge, searching the +black distance, while they strained for a sound other than the echoes +of the spasmodic rifle fire. + +"Charley'll find a trail, if he hasn't broken his fool neck," Kars +said. "Guess he'd find a trail in a desert of sand that's always +shifting. This darn gorge must be scored with them. If he don't, why, +I guess we'll need to chance it up-stream past those workings." + +"Yes." + +Bill sat on the boulder Charley had used as a mooring. He had had his +sleep, but a certain weariness still remained. + +"You'd stake a roll on Charley," he said, with an upward glance of +amusement that was lost in the darkness. + +"Sure." Kars gave a short laugh. "He's a mascot. It's always been +that way since I grabbed him when he quit the penitentiary for +splitting another neche's head open in a scrap over a Breed gal. +Charley's got all the brains of his race, and none of its virtues. But +he's got virtues of a diff'rent sort. They're sometimes found in white +folk." + +"You mean he's loyal." + +"That's it. Every pocket he's got is stuffed full of it. He'll find a +trail or break his fool neck--because I'm needing one. He's the sort +of boy, if I needed him to shoot up a feller, it wouldn't be sufficient +acting the way I said. He'd shoot up his whole darn family, too, and +thieve their blankets, even if he didn't need 'em. He's quite a +boy--when you got him where you need him. I----" + +Kars broke off listening acutely. He turned his head with that +instinct of avoiding the night breeze. Bill, too, was listening, his +watchful eyes turned northward. + +The moments grew. The splutter of rifle fire still haunted the night. +But, for all its breaking of the stillness, the muffled sound of a +paddle grew out of the distance. Kars sighed a relief he would not +have admitted. + +"Back to--schedule," he said. "Guess it needs a half hour of dawn." + +There was no muffle to the sound of the paddle now, and the waiting men +understood. The Indian was up against the full strength of the heavy +stream, and, light as was his craft, it was no easy task to breast it. +For some minutes the rhythmic beat went on. Then the little vessel +grated directly opposite them, with an exactness of judgment in the +darkness that stirred admiration. A moment later Peigan Charley was +giving the results of his expedition in the language of his boss, of +which he considered himself a perfect master. + +"Charley, him find him," he said with deep satisfaction. "Him mak' +plenty trail. Much climb. Much ev'rything. So." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE LAP OF THE GODS + +He looked like a disreputable image carved in mahogany, and arrayed in +the sittings of a rag-picker's store. He was seated on the earthen +door-sill of the hut where Kars was sleeping. He was contemplating +with a pair of black, expressionless eyes the shadows growing in the +crevices of the far side of the gorge. The occasional whistle of a +bullet passing harmlessly overhead failed to disturb him in the +smallest degree. Why should he be disturbed? They were only fired by +"damn-fool neche." + +He sat quite still in that curious haunch-set fashion so truly Indian. +It was one of the many racial characteristics he could not shake +off--for all his boasted white habits--just as his native patience was +part of his being. Nothing at that moment seemed to concern him like +the watching of those growing shadows of night, and the steady +darkening of the evening sky. + +The defences were alive with watchful eyes. The movement of men was +incessant. The smell of cooking hung upon the evening air blending +with the smoke of the cook-house fire. Only the sluices stood up still +and deserted, and the dumps of pay dirt. But, for the moment, none of +these things were any concern of his. He had been detached from the +work of the camp. His belly was full to the brim of rough food, and he +was awaiting the psychological moment when the orders of his boss must +be carried out. Peigan Charley was nothing if not thorough in all he +undertook. + +It mattered very little to him if he were asked to cut an Indian's +throat, or if he were told by Kars to attend Sunday-school. He would +do as his "boss" said. The throat would be cut from ear to ear, if he +had to spend the rest of his days in the penitentiary. As for the +Sunday-school he would sing the hymns with the best, or die in the +attempt. + +Half an hour passed under this straining vigil. He had stirred +slightly to ease his lean, stiffening muscles. The rough buildings of +the camp slowly faded under the growing darkness. The activity of the +camp became swallowed up, and only his keen ears told him of it. The +pack ponies at their picketings, under the sheer walls beyond the +cook-house, abandoned their restless movements over their evening meal +of grain. The moment was approaching. + +At last he stirred. He rose alertly and peered within the darkened +doorway. Then his moccasined feet carried him swiftly and silently to +the side of the bunk on which his "boss" was sleeping. + +Kars awoke with a start. He was sitting up with his blankets flung +back. The touch of a brown hand upon his shoulder had banished +completely the last of his deep slumber. + +"Boss come. Him dark--good." + +The Indian had said all he felt to be necessary. He stood gazing down +at the great shadowy figure sitting up on the bunk. + +"You're an infernal nuisance," Kars protested. But he swung himself +round and stood up. "Everything ready?" he went on, strapping a +revolver belt about his waist. "Boss Bill? He ready?" He picked up +his heavy automatic lying on the table at the head of his bunk, and +examined it with his fingers to ascertain if the clip of cartridges was +full. He reached under the bunk for some spare clips. Then he drew on +his pea-jacket and buttoned it up. + +"Boss Bill all ready. Him by hospital." + +"Good. Then come right on. Go tell Boss Bill. I go to the river." + +The dusky Indian shadow melted away in the darkness. Kars watched it +go. Then he filled up a brandy flask and thrust it into his pocket. A +moment later he passed down to the water's edge, only diverging to +exchange a few parting words with Abe Dodds who was in charge of the +defences. + + +Bill Brudenell sat in the middle of the canoe, a smallish, thickly +coated figure with a beaver cap pressed low down on his iron gray head. +Kars and the Indian were at the paddles, kneeling and resting against +the struts. Kars was in the bow. He was a skilled paddle, but just +now the Indian claimed responsibility for their destination and the +landing. Charley, in consequence, felt his importance. Besides, there +was the praise for his skilful navigation yet to come. + +The rhythmic pressure of the paddles was perfectly muffled. The stream +was with them. It was a swift and silent progress. For all his +knowledge and experience Kars had difficulty in recognizing their +course. Then there were possible submerged boulders and other "snags" +and their danger to the frail craft. But these things were quite +undisturbing to the scout. His sight seemed to possess something of +feline powers. His sense of locality, and of danger, were something +almost uncanny on the water. He had made their present journey once +before, and his sureness was characteristic of his native instincts. + +The journey occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then a low spoken +order came from the Indian. + +"Charley tak' him," was all he said, and Kars, obediently, shipped his +paddle. + +Then came an exhibition of canoeing which rewarded the white men for +their faith in their disreputable henchman. Charley played with the +light craft in the great volume of stream as a feather might yield to a +gentle breeze. The canoe sidled in to the shore through a threatening +shoal of rocky outcrop, and the first stage of the journey was +completed. + +The second stage began after the little craft had been lifted and +placed high above the water's level. Scarcely a word was spoken as the +various articles were taken out of it, and matters were adjusted. +There was nothing slipshod in the arrangements. Every precaution was +taken. These men knew, only too well, the hazard of their undertaking, +and the necessity for provision against emergency. + +The profound darkness was their cover. It was also their danger. +There was no light anywhere under the clouded sky. The northern lights +were hidden, and not even a star was visible. It was what they +desired, what they needed. But the gaping jaws of the profound gorge +might easily form a trap for their undoing. + +Charley led the way over the rocks, and the murmur of cascading waters +greeted the white men's ears. It was another of those draining +waterways which scored the rock-bound river. The sound of the water +grew as they approached its outlet. Then, in a moment, it seemed they +were swallowed up by an inky blackness. + +Charley came to a halt and uncoiled the rawhide rope which he had taken +from the canoe. He paid it out, and passed one end of it to his boss. +He fastened the other end about his waist. Half-way down its length +Bill took possession of it. It was a guiding life-line so that those +behind him should not lose the trail. Then the upward struggle began. + +It was a fierce effort, as Charley's information had indicated. It was +a blind climb surrounded by every pitfall conceivable. The white men +had recollections of a climb of lesser degree, in full daylight, on the +far shore of the river. It had taken something like an hour of +tremendous effort. The difficulties and danger of it had been +incomparable with their present task. Not once, but a dozen times the +life-line was the saving clause for these men who had studied nature's +book in the northern wilderness from end to end. And none realized +better than they how much reliance they were placing in the hands of +the untutored Indian who was guiding them. + +Never for a moment was Charley at a loss. His movements were precise, +definite. He threaded his way amongst tree-trunks and a tangle of +undergrowth with a certainty that never faltered. He surmounted +jutting, slippery crags as though broad daylight marked out for him the +better course. There were moments when he stood on the brink of a +black abyss into which heavy waters fell to a depth of thirty or forty +feet. But always he held the life-line so that the course lay clear +behind him for those who had to follow. + +So the struggle went on. Higher and higher; up, up to what seemed +immeasurable heights. Always was there the threat of the water at +hand, a warning and a constant fear, as well as the main guide. There +was not a moment when life and limb were not threatened. It was only +the pliability of the moccasins, which each man was wearing, that made +the journey possible. It gave them foothold at times where no foothold +seemed possible. It was, as Charley had warned them, "much climb." + +But the task had been contemplated by minds tuned to great purpose. +Nor was there anything in the nature of the northern world that could +daunt that purpose. Bill might have found complaint to offer in the +cool contemplation of his philosophic mind, but the nature of him +defied all better sense, and drove him to a resolution as stubborn and +invincible as that of Kars himself. And Kars had no other thought but +of the objective to be gained. Only physical disaster could stop him. +So his whole strength was flung into the melting pot of achievement. + +The Indian had no other feeling than the pride of a brief leadership. +The aboriginal in him was intensely stirred. Here he was in his native +element. Here he could teach the great man who was, in his curiously +warped mind, far above all others. Besides, was there not at the end +to be a satisfaction of all the savage instincts in him? He knew the +Bell River neches, whom he hated so cordially in common with all others +of his race, were to be outwitted, defeated. And his share in that +outwitting was to be a large one, and would only go to prove further +what a contemptible thing the neche really was. + +So he brought to his aid all those faculties which he owed to his +forebears, and which had been practised in the purposes of his crooked +youth. Nor had he the wit to understand that the "contemptible" Indian +in him was serving him to the limit in this effort he was putting forth. + +The tremendous climb terminated on the wooded crests of the walls of +the great gorge. And the white men paused, thankful enough for the +moment of relaxation, while Charley scouted for his bearings. But the +pause was of the briefest. Charley was back almost before the tired +muscles had relaxed. The briefest announcement in the scout's pigeon +English and the journey was resumed. + +"Charley's eye all clear. We go?" + +The life-line was recoiled, and the scout wore it over one shoulder, +and across his chest. He had secret hopes for that rope which he +imparted to no one. + +The way through the virgin forest was almost brief. In a half hour +they stood clear of it with a dark stretch of open country stretching +out before them. Nor was there the least hesitation. Charley picked +out his way, as a cat will pass through the darkest apartment without +colliding with the furnishings. He seemed to read through the darkness +with a mental torch. + +A mile of the way lay over a stretch of attenuated grass along a ridge +that sloped away to the depths of a narrow valley, which converged upon +the river some miles to the north. Then came a drop, a steady decline +which brought them to a wider and shallower part of the valley they had +been skirting. What obstacles might lie in that hollow the white men +were powerless to estimate. They were entirely in the hands of the +Indian, and were content that this was so. + +None spoke, and the scout moved on with the swiftness of absolute +certainty. Shadowy bluffs loomed up, were skirted, were left behind. +Once or twice a grunted warning came from the leader as marshy ground +squelched under the soft moccasins. But that was all. Charley's whole +mind was set in deep concentration. Pitfalls, which might trap, were +of small enough importance. The trail was all-absorbing. + +A shallow lapping stream crossed their path. The banks were low and +quaking. They plunged into the knee-deep water, and their feet sank +into the bed of soft, reed-grown mud. They crossed the deep nearly +waist high, and floundered out on to the far bank. Then came a further +groping progress through a thicket of saplings and lesser growth. This +passed, they emerged upon an upward slope and firm patchy grassland. +It was at the summit of this that the Indian paused. + +He stood staring out in a southwesterly direction. For a while he +remained silent. Kars and Bill squeezed the water from their stout +moleskin trousers. + +Suddenly Charley flung out an arm. He was pointing with a lean +forefinger. + +"Neche lodge," he said. "Louis Creal him shack." + +Kars and Bill were at either side of him searching the dark horizon. A +light was shining dimly in the distance. Nor did it need much +understanding to realize that it came from behind a primitive, +cotton-covered window. + +"Good. How far?" + +It was Kars who spoke. + +"Piece down. Piece up. So. One mile. Bluff. Small piece. Bell +River neches--plenty teepee." + +Charley spoke with his outstretched hand indicating a brief decline, +and the corresponding rise of ground beyond. Again it was the Indian +in him that would not be denied illustration by gesture. + +Again they moved forward. Again was the scout's rightness and accuracy +proved. The ground fell away into a short dip. It rose again in the +far side of the moist bottom, and its summit confronted them with a +clean cut barrier of tall pine woods. It was the end of the toilsome +journey. The screening bluff to the northeast, without which no Indian +village, however primitive, is complete. + +They were not to pass through it. The scout turned off sharply to the +left, and moved down its length with swift, untiring steps. Nor did he +pause again till the great bluff was passed, and once more the square, +yellow patch of light gazed out at them from the dark vault of night. + +With a brief explanation the Indian yielded up his command. + +"Him Louis Creal," he said pointing. Then he swung his arm away to the +right. "Him Indian lodge. Much teepee. Much dog." He paused. +"Charley him finish--yes?" he added almost regretfully. + +Kars promptly led the way back to the cover of the woods. + +"Guess we'll sit around," he said, in a low voice. "I'll hand out the +talk." + + +Under the deep hush of night the village of the Bell River terror +slumbered. The raw-pelt teepees, their doors laced fast, stood up like +shadowy mausoleums with rigid arms stretched high above their sharp +crowns, as though in appeal to the frowning night heavens. In vain +glory an occasional log hut, with flattened reed roof, stood out +surrounded by its complement of teepees to mark the petty chieftainship +of its owner. Otherwise there was nothing to vary the infinite squalor +of the life of a northern race. Squalor and filth, and almost bestial +existence, made up the life of aboriginal man in a land where glacier +and forest vied with each other as the dominating interpretation of +Nature. + +Nor was there need for optical demonstration of the conditions. It was +there to faculties of scent. It was there in the swarms of night +flies. It was there in the howl of the scavenging camp dogs, seeking, +in their prowling pack, that which the daylight denied them. Savage as +a starving wolf pack these creatures wallowed in the refuse of the +camp, and fought for offal as for a coveted delicacy. And so the women +and men laced tight their doors that the fly-tormented pappooses might +sleep in security. In daylight these foraging beasts were curs who +labored under the shadow of the club, at night they were feared even by +their masters. + +Kars, and those with him, understood the conditions. The night hid no +secrets from them with regard to the village which sheltered their +enemy. They had learned it all in years of the long trail, and +accepted it as a matter of course. But, for the present, the village +was not their concern. It was the yellow patch of light shining in the +darkness that held them and inspired their council. + +The light was widely apart from the village. It was on a rising ground +which overlooked the surroundings. It was one of the many eyes of a +low, large, rambling building, half store, half mere dwelling, which +searched the movements of the degraded tribe which yielded something +approaching slavery to the bastard white mind which lurked behind them. + +The silence of the place was intense. There was no yap of angry cur +here. There was no sign of life anywhere, beyond that yellow patch of +light. The place was large and stoutly constructed. The heavy +dovetailed logs suggested the handicraft of the white. The dimly +outlined roof pitches had nothing of the Indian about them. But in +other respects it was lacking. There were no fortifications. It was +open to approach on all sides. And its immediate neighborhood reeked +with the native odors of the Indian encampment. It suggested, for all +its aloofness, intimate relations with the aboriginal life about it. +It suggested the impossibility of escape for its owner from the taint +of his colored forebears. + +Though no sound broke the stillness about this habitation shadows were +moving under its outer walls. Gliding shadows moving warily, stealing +as though searching out its form, and measuring its vulnerability. +They hovered for moments at darkened window openings. The closed doors +afforded attraction for them. For half an hour the silent inspection +went on. + +These movements seemed to have system. No doorway or window escaped +attention. No angle but was closely searched. Yet for all the +movement, it was ghostly in its completeness of silence. Finally the +lighted window drew their whole attention, and, for many minutes, +nothing further interested them. + +At last, however, the gathering broke up. One figure passed away +around an angle of the building and disappeared in the direction of a +closed doorway. A second figure, larger than the others, passed on in +the direction of another door. The third, a slim, alert creature, +remained at the window. In one hand he held a long, keen-edged knife. +In the other a heavy pistol loaded in every barrel. + +Within the building an equally silent scene was being enacted. + +The room was low roofed, with a ceiling of cotton billowing downwards +between the nails which held it to the rafters. No minute description +could adequately picture the scene. It was half living-room, half +store for Indian trade, and wholly lacking in any sort of order or +cleanliness. + +One wall was completely covered with shelves laden with merchandise. +There were highly colored cotton prints and blankets. There were +bottles and canned goods. There were tobacco and kegs of fiery rye +whisky. There were packets and bundles, and deep partitioned trays of +highly colored beads. A counter, which stood before this piled up +litter, was no less laden. But that which was under the counter was +hidden from view. + +A corner of the room was crowded to the ceiling with valuable furs in +their rough-dried state. Another was occupied by a fuel box stacked +with split cord-wood, for the box stove which stood in the centre of +all. The earthen floor was foul with dust and litter, and suggested +that no broom had passed over it for weeks. + +But the quality of the place was of less interest than its human +occupants. There were two. Both were clad in the thick, warmth-giving +garments characteristic of the north. One stood behind the counter +leaning over an account book of considerable proportions and was +absorbed in its perusal. The other was seated with his feet resting on +the steel rail of the stove, basking in its warmth. His back was to +the lamp and the cotton-covered window, and he was gazing in the +direction of the man at the counter through a haze of smoke from his +pipe. He was lounging in the only piece of furniture the room boasted, +except for the table on which a large glass of spirits stood adjacent +to the oil lamp. Not once, but several times he plied himself with the +ardent spirits, while the man absorbed in his ledger turned the pages +before him. The man in the chair continued to drink without stint. He +drank with the abandon of one who has long since done with the +restraint imposed by civilization. + +The man at the counter worked on silently. He, too, had a charged +glass beside him. But, for the moment, it was neglected. His figures +absorbed his whole attention. + +At last he looked up. His yellow skin was shining. His wicked black +eyes were twinkling, which, with the scars distorting his features, +gave him a look of curiously malevolent triumph. + +"Guess they're kind of rough figgers," he apologized. "But they're +near enough to make good readin'." + +"What's the total?" The demand was sharp and masterful. + +"Just under ten thousand ounces since last reckoning. That's the last +half of last summer's wash-up. There's nigh a thousand tons of dirt to +clean still. It's the biggest wash we've had, an' it's growing. When +we've cleaned out this gang we won't need to do a thing but shout. +There ain't no limit to the old gorge," he added gleefully. "When +we've passed the bones of John Kars to the camp dogs, why, we can jest +make up our bank roll how we darn please." + +"Yes." + +The man at the stove emptied and replenished his glass, and sat +handling it like one who treasures its contents. But there was a +frowning discontent in his eyes. + +"We need to pass those bones along quick," he demurred. "We haven't +done it yet." + +The half-breed at the counter searched the discontented face with +speculative eyes. + +"You guessin' we can't?" + +There was incredulity in his tone. + +"I don't guess a thing. We've just--got to." The surly determination +was unconvincing. + +"An' why not?" The half-breed's eyes were widely questioning. "It +don't worry me a thing. We fixed Mowbray all right. He was no blamed +sucker. I tell you right here there's no white outfit goin' to dip +into my basket, an' get away with it. We'll hammer 'em good and +proper. An' if that don't fix 'em, why, I guess there's always the +starvation racket. That don't never fail when it's backed by winter +north of 'sixty.' Them curs'll get his bones all----" + +But the man at the stove was no longer paying attention. He had turned +in his chair, and his eyes were on the door. His glass was poised in +the act of raising it to his lips. It remained untouched. + +"I thought----" Nor did he complete that which he had been about to +say. + +The door was thrust wide with a jolt. There was the swift clash of a +knife ripping the cotton window behind him. Then came an incredulous +ejaculation, as two guns were held leveled in the doorway. + +"God! Murray McTavish!" + +The movements of those moments were something electrical. Everything +seemed to happen at once. Every man playing his little part in the +drama of it was accustomed to think and act in the moment of emergency. +These men owed their present existence to their capacity for survival +where danger was ever lurking. + +Seconds counted on the fingers on one hand were sufficient to decide +the issue. A shot sung in through the uncovered window which carried +back no "spat" to the man who fired it. But the eyes which had guided +it beheld the half-breed at the counter sprawl across the account book +which had yielded him so much satisfaction. Almost at the instant of +his fall a lean, agile, dusky, disreputable figure leaped into the room +through the aperture which his knife had freed of its covering. + +Kars in the doorway had been no less swift. His automatic spoke, but +it spoke no quicker than a similar weapon in the hands of Murray +McTavish. + +It was a situation pregnant with possibilities. The bulky body of the +trader of Fort Mowbray had moved with the quickness, the agility of +lightning. His glass had dropped to the filthy floor with a crash, and +its place in his hand had been taken by a pistol in the twinkle of an +eye. He was on his feet, and had hurled his bullet at the figure in +the doorway in the space of time elapsing between John Kars' startled +exclamation and the discharge of his weapon, which had been almost on +the instant. + +With deadly purpose and skill Murray had taken no aim. He had fired +for the pit of the stomach with the instinct of the gunman. Perhaps it +was the haste, perhaps the whisky had left its effect on him. His shot +tore its way through Kars' pea-jacket, grazing the soft flesh of his +side below his ribs. The second and third shots, as the automatic did +its work, were even less successful. There was no fourth shot, for the +weapon dropped from Murray's nerveless hand as Kars' single shot tore +through his adversary's extended arm and shattered the bones. + +The injured man promptly sought to recover his weapon with the other +hand. But no chance remained. A dusky figure leaped upon his back +from behind, and the dull gleam of a long knife flourished in the +lamplight. + +Then came Kars' fierce tones. + +"Push your hands up, blast you!" + +Peigan Charley's arm was crooked about the trader's neck. There was no +mercy in his purpose. The fierce joy of the moment was intoxicating +him. The knife. He yearned, with savage lust, to drive it deep into +the fat body struggling under his hold. But Murray understood. One +hand went up. The other made an effort, but remained helpless at his +side. Instantly Kars stayed the ruthless hand of the savage. + +"Quit it, Charley!" he cried. "Loose your hold and see to the other. +I got this one where I need him." + +The Indian yielded reluctantly. He looked on for a moment while Kars +advanced and secured the trader's fallen weapon. Then he passed across +to the counter. + +The half-breed was badly wounded. But the Indian had neither pity nor +scruple. He turned him over where he lay groaning across his counter. +He searched him and relieved him of a pair of loaded revolvers. Then, +standing over him, he waited for his chief. + +Nor had he to wait long. Kars completed his work in silence. For the +time words were unnecessary. Murray was suffering intensely, but he +gave no sign. His great eyes, glowing with malevolent fire, watched +his victorious rival's movements, and a growing dread took possession +of him at his silence. He was searched, carefully searched. Then Kars +turned to the Indian as a thin haze of smoke crept in through the jamb +of a door which communicated with some other portion of the building. + +"Get him outside," he said. "Pass that rope along." + +The Indian uncoiled the rawhide rope from about his chest and brought +it across. Kars pointed at the fat figure of Murray. + +"Get it about his feet so he can walk--that's all." + +The Indian's appreciation rose. It was displayed in the fashion in +which he secured the trader. He erred generously on the side of +security. When he had finished Murray could hobble. There was no +chance of his escape. + +The mist of smoke was deepening. The smell of burning was in the air. +The prisoner suddenly displayed alarm. + +"For God's sake get out of here," he cried, in a sudden access of +panic. "The place is afire. The cellars under are full of explosives." + +"That's how I figgered." + +Kars' rejoinder was calmly spoken. He pointed at the half-breed. + +"See to him, Charley," he said. And he waited till the Indian had +roughly dragged the wounded man into the open. Then he turned to the +panic-stricken trader. + +"Now you," he commanded, and pointed at the doorway. + + +The night sky was lit with a dull red glow. A fierce fire was raging +on the rising ground beyond the Indian village. A great concourse of +dusky figures, men, and women, and pappooses were gathered at a safe +distance watching with awe the riot of that terror which haunted their +lives. + +The whole village was awake, and had turned out to witness the calamity +which had befallen. Others had joined them. Those others who had +contemplated the destruction of the white invaders down in the river +gorge. Their crude minds held no clue to the cause of the thing which +had happened. Each and all wondered and feared at the non-appearance +of the men who led them. But none dared approach the fire. None +thought to extend help to its possible victims. Fire was a demon they +feared. It was a demon they were ready enough to invoke to aid them in +war. But his wrath turned against themselves was something to be +utterly dreaded. So they stood and watched--from afar off. + +There were others watching, too. But they were still farther off. +They were standing on a high ground in the shelter of a bluff of trees. +Their direction was towards the river, where the Indian had led them +earlier in the night. + +The fire licked up towards the heavy sky in jagged tongues of flame. +The Indians were held fascinated by their own terror. The others were +waiting for other reasons. + +Two figures were on the ground. One was squatting on his heavy +buttocks. The other was stretched prone and helpless. Two men were +standing guard, their eyes wide for that which was to come. The Indian +Charley was absent. He had gone to summon aid from the river. + +That which was awaited came when the fire was at its height. It came +with a roar, tossing the licking flames into a wild chaos of protest. +They were swept apart, and a great detonation boomed across to +expectant ears. A pillar of smoke and flame shot up to the heavens. +Then a deluge of smoke partially obscured all vision. + +"Good!" Kars' monosyllable was full of intense satisfaction. + +"They'll go hungry for fighting fodder," said Bill. + +Nor was there any less satisfaction in his comment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE END OF THE TERROR + +Kars stood on the embankment watching the receding form of the aged +chief, Thunder-Cloud, taking his departure with his escort. It was an +outfit to inspire ridicule, were it not for the seriousness lying +behind the human passions governing the situation. Kars understood. +Those with him understood. Peigan Charley alone lacked appreciation. +He regretted the old man's coming under a truce. He even more +regretted his departure--whole. But then Peigan Charley was a savage, +and would never be otherwise. + +The old man tottered along over the rough foreshore which had been +cleared of its human debris. His blanket-clad shoulders, though gay +with color, were bowed with senility, a mockery of the vaunting +splendor which glared out in vivid stripes. His escort, too, was +mostly elderly. There were no fighting men in it. They were the +counselors, who worked overtime with inadequate brains, and delivered +the result by word of mouth with all the confidence of their kind. + +It had been an interesting moment for the leaders of the camp. For +Kars it had been something in the nature of a triumph. It had yielded +him his reward for a superlative effort of reckless daring, in which +the loyalty of his companions had helped him. + +The old man had talked. He had babbled on through his interpreter at +great length. His talk had been a rambling declaration of friendship +for the white man. He had assured Kars that he, Kars, was held in +great personal esteem by the Indians. The last thing in any Indian +mind was a desire to shed his blood, or the blood of any of his +"braves," who fought so magnificently. He assured him that he had come +to say that all the Indians, even those who had been so very fierce, +and were now so no longer, would gladly smoke the pipe of peace with +their white brothers, and bury the hatchet now and forever. + +Nor did he inform his audience of the events which had led up to this +desire, and of which he believed they must be ignorant. He failed to +mention that their own white leaders had vanished, literally in smoke, +that all supplies necessary to carry on the war had been completely cut +off by the destruction by fire of the magazine in which these things +were stored. On these matters he was discreetly reticent, and Kars was +satisfied that it should be so. On his part he had no desire to +enlighten him to the fact that, at that moment, Murray McTavish was +lying in the extemporized hospital in the camp with a shattered arm, +and that the half-breed, Louis Creal, was slowly dying with a bullet +through his lungs, under the same primitive shelter. + +Kars had listened. And his whole attitude was one of clear-eyed +wisdom. He assured the crafty old man that he was certain of the Bell +River Indians' good faith. He was furthermore convinced that the men +of Bell River were the finest Indian race in the world, with whom it +was the whole object of a white man's life to live in peace. He was +certain that the recent events had been inspired by powers of evil +which had now been destroyed, and that he saw no obstacle to cementing +a lasting friendship with the Indians, which he was sure would lead to +happy days of plenty for the noble red man. + +And so the farce had gone on to its end with truly Indian ceremonial. +But it did not come to a close until Kars had elicited from the old +rascal a complete story of the murder of Allan Mowbray. To him this +was of far more importance than all the rest of the old sinner's talk. +The story was extracted piecemeal, and was given in rambling, evasive +fashion. But it was given completely in the end, and with a veracity +which Kars had no reason to doubt. + +It was a long enough story, which became a record of perfidy and crime +laid entirely at the doors of Murray McTavish and Louis Creal. + +The Indians had known Allan Mowbray for many years. They were good +friends. Allan Mowbray clothed and fed them in return for furs. Then +came a time when the white man found yellow dust on the river bank. He +liked it. He told the Indians so, and showed them how to find it, and +promised them, if they would collect all they could, and trade it with +him, they would never want for anything. He sent the half-breed, Louis +Creal, to see they did the work right, and fitted him out a store. +Louis Creal was a servant of Allan Mowbray. He was not a partner. + +A great prosperity set in for the Indians, and they were very pleased +and very contented. Then came a time when the other white man +appeared, Murray McTavish. He made great changes. The Indians had to +work harder, but they got more trade. They got whisky. They grew more +and more prosperous. The new white man was always smiling and +pleasant, and the young men liked him very much, because he made the +squaws and old men do most of the work, while they were given rifles, +and allowed to practice the arts of war which had died out in their +tribe for so long. + +The new white man then told them that they must not let any other +Indians come near Bell River. These traveling Indians were a great +danger. Finding the Bell River folk prosperous and happy they would +become envious. They would come in the night and burn and massacre. +The young men realized the danger, and they went on the war-path. All +who came near were killed. Then the young men scoured the country +around, and burned the homes of all Indians they found, and killed +their fighting men. The new white man was very pleased. + +After a very long time Murray McTavish and Louis Creal held a big +council with the young men. The white man told them they were in very +great danger. He said that Allan Mowbray was no longer to be trusted. +He was a traitor. He assured them that Allan Mowbray was going through +the country telling the Indians and white folk of the yellow dust on +the river. This was betraying the Indians. For now all people would +come along in such numbers they would sweep the Bell River Indians +away, they would kill them all, and burn their homes, and they would +kill the white men, too, so that they could get all the dust that +belonged to the people of Bell River. The only way to save themselves +was by killing Allan Mowbray. + +The young men were very angry, and very fierce. And the white man +offered them council and advice. He showed them how they could trap +Allan Mowbray and kill him. And Louis Creal would help them. + +This the young men did on the banks of the river, led by Louis Creal. + +But the old villain was careful to explain that now, now, at last--of +course since the ruin of their prospects through the destruction of +their sources of supply--all the Bell River tribe was sorry that Allan +Mowbray had been killed. They understood that he was not a traitor. +It was the others who were traitors. Allan Mowbray was killed because +they wanted all the yellow dust themselves, and he, Thunder-Cloud, +personally, as well as the young men, was very glad that they had both +been found out by the Indians. They were very, very bad men who had +wanted Kars and his people killed, too, but fortunately the Indians had +found out that Kars was a good man, and a friend of the Indian, and so +it was the desire of all to live in peace. In fact the Indian would be +very pleased to trade yellow dust with him. + +As the old chief vanished in the region of the Indian workings Kars +turned back to his camp. For some moments he surveyed the scene with +serious eyes. It was all over. Already the persistent energy of Abe +Dodds was making itself apparent. The pumps had been restarted. The +sluices were awash, and gangs were starting to demolish the embankments +of auriferous pay dirt. The armed camp was vanishing before the breath +of peace, and the change brought him a measure of relief he remained +wholly unaware of. + +It had been a desperate time while it had lasted. A desperateness +quite unrealized until it was over, and complete victory had been +achieved. And, curiously enough, by far his most anxious time had been +the safe return from his raid on Louis Creal's store, with his +prisoners. Peigan Charley had been unfailing. The Indian had reached +the camp and found it secure. There had been no attack in his absence. +He had explained the situation in his own lurid but limited language to +Abe Dodds, and the assistance needed had been promptly forthcoming. + +The whole enterprise, the capture of the prisoners, the burning of +Louis Creal's store, had been carried out without the Indian's +obtaining an inkling of that which was going forward. And +unquestionably it was due largely to this absolute secrecy in the +operation that the present peace offer had been so promptly forthcoming. + +But in the midst of his triumph Kars had little enough rejoicing. He +had been shocked--shocked beyond words. And the shock left a haunting +memory which dominated every other feeling. It was Murray McTavish's +share in the villainies of the sombre river. + +It was incredible--almost. But the worst feature of the whole thing +lay in the man's callous display. This murderer, this murderer of her +father, this man who was her father's friend, had dared to contemplate +marriage with Jessie. He had asked her to marry him while the memory +of his crime must still have been haunting, almost before the red blood +of his victim had dried upon his ruthless hands. It was unspeakable. + +The smiling, genial Murray. The man of bristling energy and apparent +good-will. The man who had assumed the protection of the women-folk +left defenceless by his own crime--a murderer. The horror of it all +left Kars consumed by a cold fury more terrible than any passion he had +ever known. With his whole soul he demanded justice. With his whole +soul he was resolved that justice should be done. + +He remembered so many things now. He remembered the shipment of arms +with which, he had assured Bill, he believed Murray intended to wipe +out the Bell River scourge. And he remembered Bill's doubtful +acceptance of it. Now he knew from bitter experience the meaning of +that shipment. It was the murder of himself. The massacre of his +"outfit." An added crime to leave Murray free to wallow in his gold +lust. Free to possess himself of Jessie Mowbray. He wondered how long +Louis Creal would have survived had Murray achieved his purpose. + +His discovery had been incredible--_almost_. But not quite. +Subconscious doubts of Murray had always been his. Bill Brudenell's +doubts of the man had been more than subconscious. The growth of his +own subtle antagonism towards the trader had always disturbed him. But +its growth had gone on while he remained powerless to check it. He had +set it down to rivalry for a woman's love. He had accepted it as such. +But now it possessed a deeper significance. He believed it to have +been instinctive distrust. But a murderer. No. The reality was +beyond his wildest imaginings. + +He left the embankment and passed back to the shanty where the council +of peace had been held. + +Bill was within. He was seated on his bunk contemplating the automatic +pistol which Kars had taken from Murray McTavish. It was lying across +his knee, and one hand was gripping its butt. The Indian reek still +permeated the atmosphere, and Kars exhaled in noisy disgust as he +entered. + +"Gee! It's a stinking outfit," he exclaimed, in tones that left no +doubt of his feelings, as he flung himself on his bunk and began to +fill his pipe. + +Bill glanced up. His gaze was preoccupied. + +"Neches do stink," he admitted. + +Kars struck a match. + +"I wasn't worrying about the neches. The neches don't cut any ice with +me. It's Murray." + +Bill shook his head while he watched Kars light his pipe. + +"Then it's more than a stinking outfit. Maybe I should say 'worse.'" +His eyes were twinkling. It was not with amusement. It was the nature +of them. + +But Kars denied him with an oath. + +"It couldn't be." + +Bill turned his gaze towards the doorway. He was watching the blaze of +spring sunlight, and the hovering swarms of flies which haunted the +river bank. + +"But it could. It is," he said deliberately, and his eyes came back to +the weapon in his hand. Then he added with some force: + +"There'll need to be a hanging--sure." + +"Allan was murdered at his instigation. He'll certainly hang for it," +Kars agreed. + +"I wasn't thinking that way." + +"How then?" + +"This." Bill held up the gun. + +"That? It's Murray's gun. I----" + +"Yes," Bill interrupted him, a fierce light leaping into his eyes and +transfiguring them in a manner Kars had never before beheld. "It's +Murray's gun, and it's the gun that handed death to young Alec Mowbray +at the Elysian Fields." + +"God!" + +Kars' ejaculation was something in the nature of a gasp. Renewed +horror was looking out of his eyes. His pipe was held poised in his +fingers while it was allowed to go out. A curious feeling of +helplessness robbed him of further articulation. + +The two men were gazing eye to eye. At last, with an effort, Kars +flung off the silence that held him. + +"How--how d'you know?" he demanded in thick tones. + +Bill held up a nickel bullet between his finger and thumb. Then he +displayed the half empty cartridge clip he had extracted from the +weapon. + +"They're the same make, and--this is the bullet I dug out of poor +Alec's body." + +Kars breathed deeply. He regarded the various articles, held +fascinated as by something evil but irresistible. He watched Bill as +he replaced them on the bunk beside him. Then, for a few seconds, the +sounds of activity outside, and the buzz of the swarming flies alone +broke the silence. + +But the moment of silence passed. It was broken by a fierce oath, and +it came from Bill. A hot flush stained his tanned cheeks. His anger +transformed him. + +"God in Heaven!" he cried. "I've suspected right along. Guess I must +have _known_, and couldn't believe. I'm just mad--mad at the thought +of it. Say, John, he's had us beaten the whole way. And now it's too +late. I could cry like a kid. I could break my fool head against the +wall. The whole darn thing was telling itself to me, way back months, +down in Leaping Horse, and I just wouldn't listen. And now the boy's +dead." + +He drew a deep breath. But he went on almost at once. And though his +tones were more controlled his emotion was working deeply. + +"D'you know why I brought that bullet along? No," as Kars shook his +head. "I guess I don't quite know myself. And yet it seemed to me it +was necessary. I sort of felt if we got behind things here on Bell +River we'd find a link between them and that bullet. Now I know. Say, +I've got it all now. It's acted itself all to me right here in this +shack. It was acting itself to me up there in that ruined shack across +the river, when you handed me your talk of Murray's purpose, only I +guess I wasn't sitting in the front row, and hadn't the opera glasses +to see with. + +"Say, it's the same darn story over again," he went on with passionate +force. "It's the same with a different setting, and different +characters. It's the same motive. Just the rotten darn motive this +world'll never be rid of so long as human nature lasts. We've both +seen it down there in Leaping Horse, and, like the fools we were, +guessed the long trail was clear of it. We're the fools and suckers. +God made man, and the devil handed him temptation. I'll tell you the +things I've seen floating around in the sunlight, where the flies are +worrying, while I've been sitting around here looking at that gun you +grabbed from Murray. It's a tough yarn that'll sicken you. But it's +right. And you'll learn it's right before the police set their rope +around Murray McTavish's neck. I don't think Murray's early history +needs to figger. If it did, maybe it wouldn't be too wholesome. Where +Allan found him I don't know, and Murray hasn't felt like talking about +things himself. Maybe Allan knew his record. I can't say. Anyway, as +I said, it doesn't figger. There's mighty few folks who hit north of +'sixty' got much of a Sunday-school record, and they're mostly out for +a big piece of money quick. Anyway, in this thing Allan found Murray +and brought him along a partner in a gold stake. He brought him +because the proposition was too big, and too rich for him to handle on +his own. Get that. And Murray knew what he was coming to. That was +Allan's way. He handed him the whole story because he was a straight +dealing feller who didn't understand the general run of crookedness +lying around. It was no partnership in a bum trading outfit. It was a +big gold proposition, and _it had to be kept secret_. + +"Murray came along up. Maybe he had no thought then of what he was +going to do later. Maybe he had an eye wide open anyway. He got a +grip on things right away. He found a feller who didn't know how to +distrust a louse. He found two white women, as simple as the snow on +the hilltops, and a boy who hadn't a heap of sense. He found an old +priest who just lived for the love of helping along the life of those +around him. And he found gold, such as maybe he'd dreamed of but never +thought to see. Do you get it? Do I need to tell you? Murray, hard +as a flint, and with a pile set out in front of him for the taking. +Can you hear him telling himself in that old Fort that he's there on a +share only, while he runs the things for a simple feller, and his +folks, who haven't a real notion beyond the long trail? I can hear +him. I can hear the whole rotten story as he thinks it out. It's the +same, always the same. The mania for gold gets men mad. It drives +them like a slave under the lash. But Murray is cleverer than most. A +heap cleverer. This thing is too big for any fool chance. It wants to +go so no tracks are left. So no one, not even those simple women, or +that honest priest, can make a guess. So there isn't a half-breed or +Indian around the Fort can get wise. There's just one way to work it, +and for nigh ten years he schemes so the Bell River terror under Louis +Creal gets busy. We've seen the result here. We heard his yarn from +old Thunder-Cloud, and to fix things the way he needed he only had to +buy over a dirty half-breed, which is the best production of hell +walking the earth. + +"With the murder of Allan, _by the Indians_, his whole play begins. He +goes up with an outfit. There's no fooling. His outfit sees the +result. There's nothing to be done. So he gets right back with the +mutilated body, and mourns with the folk he's injured. Yes, it's +clever. That's the start. What next? Murray keeps to the play of the +loyal friend and protector. It's all smooth to him, and only needs the +playing. The store and its trade, and his fortune are left by Allan to +his widow. He's completed his first step without a snag cropping up. +Meanwhile you come along. + +"Murray's quick to see things. Louis Creal tells him you've been +around Bell River. He tells him you've found the Indian workings. He +tells him he nearly got you cold. Besides that Murray figgers around +you and Jessie. It's the first snag he's hit, and it's one to be +cleared. But it's just incidental to his scheme, which has to be put +through. And his scheme? It's so easy--now. He's got to marry Jessie +and so make himself one of the family. The widow'll be glad to hand +over her fortune to be administered by Jessie's husband. And, in the +end, the whole outfit'll come into Jessie's hands, and so into his. +But there's a further snag. Alec is to get the business at his +mother's death. And Alec hasn't any use for Murray, and, if foolish, +is hot-headed. Alec has to be got rid of. How? The father's murder +can't be safely repeated. How then? Alec is yearning for life. He's +yearning to wallow in the sink of Leaping Horse. Murray encourages +him. Murray persuades his mother. Murray takes him down there, and +flings him into the sink. But Murray hasn't forgotten you. Not by a +lot. He's going to match your outfit. He's going to measure his wits +against yours. He's going to get you done up on Bell River the same as +Allan Mowbray, and the play will be logical for all who hear of it. So +he ships in the supplies and makes ready. Meanwhile the boy plays into +his hands. He gets all tied up with the woman belonging to Shaunbaum. +And Shaunbaum figgers to kill him. Murray needs that. It'll save him +acting that way himself. But he's taking no chances. He watches all +the while. He locates everything, every move Shaunbaum makes. How I +can't guess, but it's easy to a feller like Murray. Well, the gunmen +get around. Maybe you'll say this is just a guess. It don't seem that +way to me. I sort of see it all doing. The day Alec's to be shot up +by Shaunbaum's gunmen gets around. That morning Murray pulls out +north. Then comes night. He sneaks back. I seem to see Murray +sitting around in one of the boxes opposite us. Maybe he came in +quietly amongst the crowd. He keeps close in that box, hidden. He +watches. His eye is on the gun-men. If they do their work right, why, +he'll clear out free of the blood of the boy. If they don't----? + +"But the boy had a dash of his father in him. He knew trouble was +hitting his trail. When it caught him up he was ready. He was quicker +than the gun-men. And Murray was watching and saw. His gun was ready +behind the curtains of that box, and it spoke, and spoke quick. The +gunman was dead. Alec was dead. There was no trail left. Only the +bullet I dug out of the poor kid's body. Murray cleared on the +instant, and didn't have to _pass through the hall_. The rest----" +Bill finished up with a comprehensive gesture indicating the camp about +them. + +The work going on outside sounded doubly loud in the silence that +followed the rapidly told story. Kars' brooding eyes were turned on +the sunlit doorway. His pipe had remained cold. + +It was almost a visible effort with which he finally bestirred himself. + +"You guess he quit his outfit and returned to Leaping Horse," he said. +"You can't prove it." + +Bill shrugged. + +"It'll be easy. His outfit can prove it. He either quit it or didn't +join it in the morning. The p'lice'll get it out of them. When they +learn what's doing they won't be yearning to screen Murray. Specially +Keewin." + +"No. Keewin was Allan's best boy. Keewin would have given his life +for Allan." + +Kars drew a deep breath. He sat up and struck a match. His pipe began +to glow under his deep inhalations. He stood up and moved towards the +door. + +"It's the foulest thing I've ever heard. And--I guess you've got it +right, Bill," he admitted. "I allow we've done all we can. It's right +up to the p'lice." He abruptly turned, and his steady eyes stonily +regarded his friend. "He's got to hang for this. Get me? If the law +don't fix things that way, I swear before God I'll hunt his trail till +I get him cold--with my own hands." + +Bill's reply was a silent nod. He had nothing to add. He knew all +that was stirring beyond that stony regard, and his sympathies were in +full harmony. The bigness of these two men was unlimited by any of the +conventions of human civilization. They were too deeply steeped in the +teachings of the long trail to bow meekly to the laws set up by men. +Their doctrines were primitive, but they saw with wide eyes the justice +of the wild. + +Kars stood for a few moments lost in profound thought. Then he stirred +again and moved to depart. + +"Where you going?" Bill demanded, recalling himself from his own +contemplation. Kars turned again. + +"I'm going to hand over to Abe and the boys," he said. "They're +needing this thing. Guess I'm quit of Bell River. There's a wealth of +gold here'll set them crazy. And they can help 'emselves all they +choose. You and I, Bill, are going to see this thing through, and our +work don't quit till Murray's hanging by the neck. Then--then--why +then," a smile dawned in his eyes, and robbed them of that frigidity +which had so desperately held them, "then I'll ask you to help me fix +things with Father Jose so Jessie and I can break a new trail that +don't head out north of 'sixty.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE CLOSE OF THE LONG TRAIL + +Bell River lay far behind. Leagues beyond the shadowy hills serrating +the purple horizon, it was lost like a bad dream yielding to the light +of day. + +For Kars the lure of it all was broken, broken beyond repair. The wide +expanses of the northland had become a desert in which life was no +longer endurable. The wind-swept crests, the undulating, barren plains +no longer spoke of a boundless freedom and the elemental battle. These +things had become something to forget in the absorbing claim of a life +to come, wherein the harshness of battle had no place. The darkling +woods, scarce trodden by the foot of man, no longer possessed the +mystic charm of childhood's fancy. The trackless wastes held only +threat, upon which watchful eyes would now gladly close. The stirring +glacial fields of summer, monsters of the ages, boomed out their +maledictions upon ears deaf to all their pristine wrath. The westward +streams and trail were alone desirable, for, at the end of these +things, the voice was calling. The voice of Life which every man must +ultimately hear and obey. + +Such was the mood of the man who for years had dreamed the dream of the +Northland; the bitter, free, remorseless Northland. To him she had +given of her best and fiercest. Battle and peace within her bosom had +been his. He was of the strong whom the Northland loves. She had +yielded him her all, a mistress who knows no middle course. And now he +was satiated. + +She had gambled for his soul. She had won and held it. And, in the +end, she had been forced to yield her treasure. Such is the fate of +the Northland wanton, bending to the will of Nature supreme. Her hold +is only upon superb youth, which must find outlet for its abounding +life. She has no power beyond. The ripening purpose of the Great +Creator thrusts her back upon herself, beaten, desolate. + +The elemental in Kars was still a great living force. That could never +change. Just now it was submerging in an ocean of new emotion he was +powerless to deny. The strength of his manhood was undiminished. It +was even greater for the revolution sweeping his estate. Just as the +passionate fire of his elemental nature had swept him all his years, so +now the claims of human love coursed through the strong life channels +which knew no half measure. Now he yearned for the gentler dream, even +as he had yearned for all that which can be claimed by strength alone. + +His whole being was centred upon the goal towards which he was +speeding. His light outfit was being driven by the speed of his desire. + +So Bell River was far behind. All the wide wastes of forest and hill, +of canyon and tundra, of glacier and torrent, had passed under his +feet. Now the swift waters of Snake River were speeding under driven +paddles. Another day and he would gaze once more into the sweet eyes +which meant for him the haven his soul so ardently craved. + +Bill Brudenell, too, had shaken himself free. The nauseating breath of +Bell River had driven him before it. He, too, had loved the North. +Perhaps he still loved his mistress, but he cursed her, too, and cursed +her beyond forgiveness or recall. His eyes were turned to the west, +like the eyes of his friend. But the only voice summoning him was the +voice of a spirit wearied with the contemplation of men's evil. This +was the final journey for him, and the long nights of the trail were +spent in a pleasant dreaming of sunlit groves, of warming climes. + +The faithful Charley was untouched by any gentler emotion. His crude +mind was beyond such. He was satisfied that his boss had given the +order to "mush." It mattered nothing to him if the journey ended at +the Pole. Perhaps he regretted the Indians left behind him alive. But +even so, there were compensations. Had he not a prisoner, a white man +under his charge? And had his boss not assured him that that prisoner +would hang by the neck at his journey's end? Yes, that was so. It +seemed almost a matter for regret to his unsophisticated understanding +that the hanging could not be done on the trail. That the joy of +performing the operation might not be his own reward for faithful +service. Still, his boss had spoken. It was sufficient. + +Night closed down within thirty miles of Fort Mowbray. An early camp +was made for food and rest. The journey was to go through the night +that it might be completed before dawn broke. + +In a few minutes the spiral of smoke from the camp-fire rose on the +still air, and helped dispel the attacks of the mosquitoes. Then came +the welcome smell of cooking. The Indian crew lolled about the +dew-laden bank with the unconcern and luxury of men whose iron muscles +are welcomely relaxed. One of their number was at the fire preparing +food, and Charley hectored whilst he superintended. Kars and Bill were +seated apart under the shelter of a bush. For the time they had charge +of their prisoner. + +Murray McTavish was unchanged in appearance, except that his smile had +died from his round face and his curious eyes shone with a look that +was daily growing more hunted. Nearly six weeks had passed since Kars' +bullet had crashed through his arm, and left a shattered limb behind +it. His final journey had had to be delayed while Bill had exercised +his skill in healing that the prisoner might face his ultimate ordeal +whole. Now the healing was nearing completion, but the irony of it all +lay in the fact that the prisoner's well-being was of necessity the +first thought of those who controlled the itinerary. + +From the moment of Murray's capture his attitude had become definite +and unchanging. His sufferings from his shattered arm were his own. +He gave vent to no complaint. He displayed no sign. A moody +preoccupation held him aloof from all that passed about him. He obeyed +orders, but his obedience was sullen and voiceless. + +But that which he refused to his captors by word of mouth, by action, +was there for the reading. His big eyes could not remain silent. The +mask-like smile was no longer part of him. The knowledge of his +defeat, and all its consequences, looked out of glowing depths which +shone with so mysterious a light. And daily the pages were turned for +the reading of the tragedy, the scenes of which were passing behind +them. Resolute in will he was powerless to deny emotion. And the eyes +which saw and watched, day and night, on the long journey, read with +perfect understanding. His mental sufferings were far beyond any that +his wounded body could have inspired. + +The westward goal for which his captors were making had a far different +meaning for him. He only saw in it the harvest of defeat, and all it +meant of human punishment. But far, far worse was the loss of all that +which he had labored to achieve through his crimes. Nor was the sting +of defeat lessened by the knowledge that it had been accomplished by +the one man he had instinctively feared from his first meeting with him. + +Now, as they waited while the Indian prepared a steaming supper of +rough but welcome food, the three men sat with the smoke of their pipes +doing battle with the mosquito hordes which cursed the country. + +For long it remained a silent gathering. Such is the way of the long +trail. Silence is the rule after the first routine has settled down. +A week of close companionship, where Nature's silences are deep and +unbroken, and all exchange of thought becomes exhausted. Only the +exigences of labor can excuse verbal intercourse. Otherwise it would +be intolerable. These three had labored long upon the trail in their +different spheres. They accepted every condition. + +The camp-fire threw its cheerful glow, and set the shadows dancing. +The moon had risen, a golden globe just hovering above the horizon. +Its yellow light searched out the three figures dimly, and the dancing +flames of the camp-fire supported its effort. + +Kars' eyes were directed upon the tongues of flame licking about the +camp-kettle. But they held in their focus the round, undiminished +figure over whom he sat ward. Bill sat facing the captive in full view +of the slung arm in its rough splints. Murray seemed to have no +concern for those about him. His haunted eyes were on the rising moon +disc, and his thoughts were on all those terrible problems confronting +him. + +He smoked from habit, but without appreciation. He could have no +appreciation now for bodily comfort when all mental peace was destroyed. + +His pipe went out and Bill held matches towards him. Silently, almost +automatically, he relit it, using his sound arm with the skill of weeks +of practice. + +He passed the matches back. He offered no thanks. Then, with a sudden +stirring of his unshapely body, he glanced swiftly in the direction of +Kars. A moment later he was gazing across at Bill and addressing him. + +"We'll make the Fort before sun-up?" he said. + +"Before daylight," came the prompt correction. + +Kars had abandoned his pleasant train of silent thought. His keen eyes +were alight with the reflection of the fire. They were searching the +prisoner's face for the meaning of his inquiry. + +"How long do we stop around?" + +Murray's voice was sharp. + +"We don't stop around." Again Bill's reply came on the instant, and in +tones that were coldly discouraging. + +"But I guess I need to collect things. My papers. Kit. I've a right +that way. You can't deny it," Murray protested swiftly. + +"You got no rights in this layout." It was Kars who replied. "You'll +pass right on down the river for Leaping Horse. And you aren't +stopping on the way to pay calls. Guess the p'lice in Leaping Horse +will allow you your rights. But there's nothing doing that way till +you're quit of this outfit." + +His decision was coldly final, but it was a blow in the face which the +murderer refused to accept. + +"You can't act that way," he protested fiercely. "You got a charge +against me you haven't proved, and I don't guess you ever will prove. +I'm a prisoner by force, not by law. I demand the right to decent +treatment. I need to get papers from the Fort. There's things there +to help my case. Maybe you figger to beat me through holding me from +my rights. It would rank well with the way you've already acted. I +need to see Father Jose and Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie----" + +"Cut that right out!" Kars' words came with a vicious snap. "You'll +see no one till you're in the hands of the Mounted P'lice at Leaping +Horse. That goes. I don't care a cuss for the law of this thing. +We'll fix that all later." + +Murray's burning eyes were furious as they searched the unyielding +features of his captor. His absolute impotence drove him to an insane +desire for violence. But the violence was not forthcoming. He was +powerless, and no one knew it better than he. + +"We surely will," he cried, hoarse with passion. "You can't prove a +thing. Allan was murdered by the neches. I was at the Fort with the +rest. You know that. Others can prove it." + +The fierce anger which the mention of Jessie's name had set leaping in +Kars' brain subsided as swiftly as it had risen. He sat silent for +some moments regarding the storm-swept features of the man whose crimes +had devastated the life of the girl he loved. His anger changed to an +added loathing. And his loathing inspired a desire to hurt, to hurt +mortally. + +This man as yet knew nothing of the discovery of his second crime. The +time had come when he must realize all that this thing meant to him. +There were weeks of journey yet before him. Kars knew no mercy. The +wild had taught him that mercy was only for the weak, for those who +erred through that weakness. This man was not of those. He was a +vicious criminal whose earthly reward would be inadequate to his crimes. + +"That won't help you a thing," he said frigidly. He knocked out his +pipe and thrust it into his pocket. His gaze was steadily fixed on the +eyes so furiously alight as they watched his every movement. "There's +more to this than the murder of Allan Mowbray, your share in which can +be proved clear out. Guess you've acted pretty bright, Murray. I +allow you've covered a whole heap of tracks. But you haven't covered +them all. Guess there never was a murderer born who knew how to cover +all his tracks. And it's just a mercy of Providence for the protection +of us folk. If you'd covered your last tracks you'd have dropped your +automatic in the Snake River, and lost it so deep in the mud it +wouldn't have been found in years. But you didn't act that way, and +that's why you're going to hang. You're going to hang for murdering +the son, as well as the father, and the whole blamed world'll breathe +freer for your hanging. Do you need me to tell you more? Do you need +me to tell you why you're not landing at the Fort? No, I guess not. +Your whole play is in our hands. You're here by force, sure, and by +force you're goin' to stay. Just as I guess by force you're going to +die. You've lived outside the law such a long spell I don't guess you +need teaching a thing. If we're acting outside the laws of man now, I +guess we're acting within the laws of justice. That's all that gets me +where you figger. I guess we'll eat. Charley'll know how to hand you +your food." + +The prisoner made no reply. It was the final blow. Kars had withheld +it till the psychological moment. He had withheld it, not with any +thought of mercy, but with a crude desire to punish when the hurt would +be the greatest. + +He had achieved more than he knew. Buoyed with the belief that his +earlier crime on Bell River had been so skilfully contrived that no +court of law could ever hope to convict him of a capital offence, +Murray McTavish had only endured the suspense and haunting fear of +uncertainty. Now he realized to the full the disaster that had +overtaken him. He was stunned by the blow that had fallen. + +The cooked meat that was passed to him by the Indian was left +untouched. The dark night journey passed before his wide, unsleeping +eyes as the canoes sped on towards the Fort. The last hope had been +torn from him. A dreadful waking nightmare pursued him. It was the +complete wrecking of a strong mentality, the shattering of an iron +nerve under a sledge-hammer blow that had been timed to the moment. He +might walk to the scaffold with a step that was outwardly firm. But it +would be merely the physical effort of a man in whom all hope is dead. + +So the Fort landing was reached and passed. Kars alone disembarked, +his canoe remaining ready to overhaul his companions at their next +night camp. He was going to tell his story to those who must learn the +truth. It was a mission from which he shrank, but he knew that his +lips alone must tell it. He hoped and believed it was the final act of +the drama these cruelly injured people must be forced to witness. Then +the gloomy curtain would be dropped, but to rise again on scenes of +sunlight and happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE SUMMER OF LIFE + +The passage of time for John Kars had never been so swift, so feverish +in the rush of poignant events. Four months had passed since he had +landed like a shadow in the night on the banks of Snake River, to tell +the story of men's evil to those to whom he would gladly have imparted +only happy tidings. + +Now he was at the landing again, with pages of tragic history turned in +his book of life. But they were turned completely, and only the memory +of them was left behind. The other pages, those remaining to be +perused, were different. They contained all those things without which +no life could ever be counted complete. That happiness which all must +seek, and the strong and wise will cling to, and only the weak and +foolish will make a plaything of. + +It was the crowning day of his life, and he desired to live every +moment of it. So he had left his bed under the hospitable roof of +Father Jose to witness the first moment of its birth. + +The first gray shadow lit the distant hilltops. To him it was like the +first stirring of broken slumber. Strange but familiar sounds broke +the profound stillness. The cry of belated beast, and the waking cries +of the feathered world. The light spread northward. It moved along +stealing, broadening towards the south. It mounted the vault of night. +Again, to him it was the growth of conscious life, the passing from +dream to reality. + +He saw the stubborn darkness yield reluctantly. He watched the silver +ghosts flee from the northern sky, back, back to the frigid bergs which +inspired their fantastic steps; the challenge hurled at the +star-world's complacent reign. Even the perfect burnish of the silver +moon was powerless before the victorious march of day. + +His spirit responded in perfect harmony. As the flush of victory +deepened it reminded him of all that a life of effort meant. The +myriad hues growing in the east were the symbol of human hope of +success so hardly striven. The massing billows, fantastic +cloud-shapes, rich in splendid habiliments, suggested the enthronement +of joy supreme. And then, in blazing splendor, the golden rising sun +pointed the achievement of that perfect happiness which the merciful +Creator designs for every living creature. + +It was a moment when there should have been no room for shadowed +memory. It was a moment when only the great looking forward should +have filled him. But the strong soul of the man had been deeply seared +by the conflict which had been fought and won. In the midst of all the +emotion of that day of days memory would not wholly be denied, and he +dwelt upon those events of which he had read so deeply in the pages of +his book of life. + +For all his desire to forget, the rapid moving scenes of the summer +days came back to him now, vivid, painful. It was as though the pure +search-light of dawn had a power of revealing no less than its +inspiration of hope and delight. He contemplated afresh his journey +down the river with his prisoner and his loyal friends. He remembered +his landing on that very spot when sleep wrapped the Mission of St. +Agatha, as it did now. He thought of his first visit to the Padre, and +of his ultimate telling of his story to the two women who had suffered +so deeply at the hands of the murderer. It had been painful. Yet it +had not been without a measure of compensation. Had he not run the man +to earth? And was not the avenging of the girl he loved yet to come? +Yes, this had been so, and he dwelt on the courage and patience which +governed the simple women who listened to the details of man's +merciless villainy. + +The story told, then had come the great looking forward. His work +completed, he had promised that not a consideration in the world should +stay his feet from the return. And Jessie had yielded to his urgency. +On that return she would give herself to him, and the beloved Padre +should bless their union in the little Mission House. Then had come +the mother's renunciation of all the ties which had so long held her to +the banks of the Snake River. Happiness had been hers in the long +years of her life there, but the overwhelming shadow of suffering +weighed her down completely now, and she would gladly renounce the home +which had known her so long. + +So it had been arranged under the strong purpose the man had put forth, +and, in consequence, added energy was flung into his labors. That +night his canoe glided from the landing, and he was accompanied by +Keewin, and two other Indians, who had been witnesses of Murray's +movements on the day of the murder in Leaping Horse. + +The memory of these things carried him on to his journey's end where he +encountered again the tawdry pretentiousness of Leaping Horse, seeking +to hide its moral poverty under raiment of garish hue. He remembered +the anxious, busy days when the machinery of outland justice creaked +rustily under his efforts to persuade it into full and perfect motion. +The labor of it. How Bill Brudenell had labored. The staunch efforts +of the Mounted Police. And all the time the dread of a breakdown in +the rusted machinery, and the escape of the murderer from the just +penalty of his crimes. + +None knew better than Kars the nearness of that disaster. Money had +flowed like water in the interests of the accused. It had +correspondingly had to flow in the interests of the prosecution. The +tradition of Leaping Horse had been maintained throughout the whole +trial. And loathing and disgust colored his every recollection. The +defending counsel had set out to buy and corrupt. Kars had accepted +the challenge without scruple. The case was one of circumstance, +circumstance that was overwhelming. But the power of money in Leaping +Horse was tremendous. The verdict remained uncertain to the last +moment. Perhaps the balance was turned through weight of money. Kars +cared very little. The Jesuitical method of it all was a matter for +scruple. And scruple was banished completely from this battle-field. + +And Justice had won. Whatever the method, Justice had won. The relief +of it. The cold reward. Allan Mowbray was avenged. Jessie and her +mother were freed from the threat which had so long over-shadowed their +lives. The bitter air of the northland had been cleansed of a +pestilential breath. So he turned his back on Leaping Horse with the +knowledge that the murderer would pay his penalty before God and man. + +Nor was the whole thing without a curiously grim irony. Even while +Murray McTavish was fighting for his life he was witness of the +complete shattering of all that for which he had striven. His trial +revealed to the world the secret which his every effort had sought to +keep inviolate, and the horde of vultures from the gold city were +breaking the trail in their surging lust. Word flashed down the +boulevards. It flew through the slums. It sung on the wires to the +rail-heads at the coast. It reached the wealthy headquarters at +Seattle. Thence it journeyed on the wings of cable and wire to every +corner of the world. And the message only told the fabulous stories of +the new strike on Bell River. The world was left all unconcerned with +the crimes it had inspired. + +The scenes of the early days were renewed. Nor was there any great +difference from them. It was a pell-mell rush. Incompetent, harpy, +"sharp" and the gold seeker of substance. It was a train of the +northland flotsam, moving again without scruple or mercy. Kars watched +its beginning. He understood. None could understand this sort of +thing better. All his life had been spent in the midst of such +conditions. The thing had been bound to come, and he was frankly glad +that those who had served him so well were already in possession of all +they required in the new Eldorado. + +How the "rush" ultimately fared he neither knew nor seriously cared. +It had no concern for him. The lust of gold had completely passed from +him. All he cared was that it had left Fort Mowbray untouched. The +overland route had suited the needs of these folk best. It was +shorter, and therein lay its claim. The waterways which would have +brought pandemonium to the doors of the folk he loved were circuitous, +and the double burden of water and land transport would have been a +hindrance in the crazy haste of the reckless souls seeking fortune in a +whirlwind of desire. + +So the girl he loved was saved the contamination from which he desired +to shield her. So the pristine calm of the Mission of St. Agatha was +left unbroken. Father Jose was left to his snuff-box and his mission +of mercy. And Kars was glad. + +His work was done. And now, on this day of days, as he watched its +splendid birth, he thanked his God that the contamination of the gold +world which had so long overshadowed would no longer threaten the life +of the girl who was to be given into his keeping before its close. + +The sun cleared the sky-line, a molten, magnificent spectacle. And as +it rose the multi-hued escort of cloud fell away. Its duty was done. +It had launched the God of day upon its merciful task for mankind. It +would go, waiting to conduct him to his nightly couch at the other side +of the world. + +Kars drew a deep breath. The draught of morning air was nectar to his +widely expanding lungs. Realization of happiness rarely comes till it +is past. Kars was realizing it to the full. + +His eyes turned from the splendid vision. The landing was crowded with +craft. But it was not the craft of trade which usually gathered at the +close of summer. It was his own outfit, largely augmented. And it was +deeply laden. + +He dwelt upon it for some moments. Its appeal held him fascinated. A +week had been spent upon the lading, a week of unalloyed happiness and +deeply sentimental care. These were canoes laden with the many +household goods and treasures of the feminine hearts who were about to +take their places in his life. Those slight, graceful vessels +contained a hundred memories of happiness and pain carefully taken from +the settings to which they had so long been bound. He knew that they +represented the yielding up of long years of treasured life upon the +altar of sacrifice his coming had set up. He had no other feeling than +thankfulness and tenderness. It stirred every fibre of his manhood to +its depths. + +His happy contemplation was suddenly broken. A sound behind him caught +his quick ears. In a moment he had turned, and, in that moment, the +deep happiness of his communing became a living fire of delight. + +Jessie was standing in the mouth of the avenue which led down from the +clearing. She stood there framed in the setting of ripe summer +foliage, already tinging with the hues of fall. Her ruddy brown hair +was without covering, and her tall slim figure was wrapped in an ample +fur-lined cloak which reached to her feet. Kars recognized the garment +as something he had dared to purchase for her in Leaping Horse, to keep +her from the night and morning chills on the journey from the Fort. In +his eyes she made a picture beyond all compare. Her soft cheeks were +tinted with a blush of embarrassment, and her smiling eyes were shyly +regarding him. + +He strode up to her, his arms outheld. The girl yielded to his embrace +on the instant, and then hastily released herself, and glanced about +her in real apprehension. + +Kars smilingly shook his head. + +"There's no one around," he comforted her. + +"Are you quite sure?" + +"Quite." + +The girl led the way back to the landing. + +"Tell me," she cried, glancing half shyly up at the strong, smiling +face that contained in its rugged molding the whole meaning of life to +her. "What--why are you down here--now?" + +The man's responsive smile was half shamefaced. He shook his head. + +"I can't just say. Maybe it's the same reason you're around." + +"Oh, I just came along to look at things." + +Kars' embarrassment passed. He laughed buoyantly. + +"That's how I felt. I needed to look at--things." + +"What things?" + +The girl pressed him. Her great love demanded confession of those +inner feelings and thoughts a man can so rarely express. Kars resorted +to subterfuge. + +"You see, I'm responsible to you and your mother for the outfit. I had +to see nothing's amiss. There won't be a heap of time later, and we +start right out by noon. You can trust Bill most all the time. And +Charley's no fool on the trail. But I had to get around." + +"So you got up before the sun to see to it." + +Kars laughed again. + +"Yes. Same as you." + +The girl shook her head. + +"Say, it won't do. I'll--I'll be frank. Yes. I was awake. Wide +awake--hours. I just couldn't lie there waiting--waiting. I had to +get around. I had to look at it all--again. Say, John, dear, it's our +great day. The greatest in all life for us. And all this means--means +just a great big whole world. So I stole out of the house, and hurried +along to look at it. Am I foolish? Am I just a silly, sentimental +girl? I--I--couldn't help it. True." + +They were standing at the edge of the landing. The speeding waters +were lapping gently at the prows of the moored craft under pressure of +the light morning breeze. The groans of the summer-racked glacier +across the river rumbled sonorously, accentuating the virgin peace of +the world about them. The insect world was already droning its +day-long song, and the cries of the feathered world came from the +distance. + +The girl's appeal was irresistible. Kars caught her in his arms, and +his passionate kisses rained on her upturned face. All the ardor of +his strong soul gazed down into her half-closed eyes in those moments +of rapture. + +"You couldn't help it? No more could I," he cried, yielding all +restraint before the passion of that moment. "I had to get around. I +had to see the day from its beginning. Same as I want to see it to its +end. Great? Why, it's everything to me--to us, little Jessie. I want +it all--all. I wouldn't miss a second of its time. I watched the +first streak of the dawn, and I've seen the sun get up full of fire and +glory. And that's just how this day is to us. Think of it, little +girl, think of it. By noon you'll be my wife--my wife. And after, +after we've eaten, and Father Jose and Bill have said their pieces, +we'll be setting out down the river with all the folks we care for, for +a new, big, wide world, and the wide open trail of happiness waiting +for us. If it wasn't I'm holding you right now in my arms I guess +it--it would be incredible." + +But the girl had suddenly remembered the possibility of prying eyes. +With obvious reluctance she released herself from the embrace she had +no desire to deny. + +"Yes," she breathed, "it's almost--incredible." Then with a sudden +passionate abandon she held out her arms as though to embrace all that +which told her of her joy. "But it's real, real. I'm glad--so glad." + +It was a scene which had for its inspiration a world of the gentler +human emotions. + +The laden canoes had added their human freight. Each was manned by its +small dusky crew, Indians tried in the service of the long trail, men +of the Mission, and men who had learned to regard John Kars as a great +white chief. It was an expedition that had none of the grim +earnestness of the long trail. The dusky Indians, even, were imbued +with the spirit of the moment. Every one of these people had witnessed +the wonderful ceremonial of a white man's mating, the whole Mission had +been feasted on white man's fare. Now the landing was thronged for the +departure. Women, and men, and children. They were gathered there for +the final Godspeed. + +Peigan Charley was consumed with his authority over the vessels which +led the way, bearing the baggage of the party. He was part of the +white man's life, therefore his contempt for the simple awe of the rest +of his race, at the witnessing of the wedding ceremony, still claimed +his profoundest "damn-fool." Never were his feelings of superiority +more deeply stirred. + +Bill Brudenell piloted the vessel which bore Ailsa Mowbray towards the +new life for which she had renounced her old home. Kars and his bride +were the last in the procession, as the vessels swept out into the +stream under the powerful strokes of the paddles. + +It was an unforgetable moment for all. For the women it had perhaps an +even deeper meaning than for any one else. It was happiness and regret +blended in a confused tangle. But it was a tangle which time would +completely unravel, and, flinging aside all regret, would set happiness +upon its throne. For Bill it was the great desire of his life +fulfilled. His friend, the one man above all others he regarded, had +finally stepped upon the path he had always craved for him. For +himself? His years were passing. There was still work to be done in +the unsavory purlieus of Leaping Horse. + +For John Kars it was a moment of the profoundest, unalloyed joy. No +searching of his emotions could have revealed anything but the +wholesome feelings of a man who has achieved his destiny in those +things which the God of All has set out for human desire. The world +lay all before him. Wealth was his, and, in his frail barque, setting +out upon the waters of destiny, was the wife he had won for himself +from the bosom of the desolate north. + +Father Jose, gray headed, aged in the long years of a life of +sacrifice, stood at the forefront of the landing as the procession +glided out on to the bosom of the stream. Simple in spirit, single in +purpose, he regarded the going with the calmness which long years of +trial had imposed upon him. His farewell was smiling. It was deep +with truth and feeling. He knew it was the close of a long chapter in +the book of his life's effort. He accepted it, and turned the page. + +But for all the great gathering of his Mission about him he was a +lonely little figure, and the sigh which followed his voiceless +blessing came from a loyal heart which knew no other purpose than to +continue to the end its work of patient, unremitting mercy. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS*** + + +******* This file should be named 19064.txt or 19064.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/0/6/19064 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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