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diff --git a/31607-h/31607-h.htm b/31607-h/31607-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac54b13 --- /dev/null +++ b/31607-h/31607-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6281 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<meta name="generator" content="eppg.py 0.53 (25-Feb-2010)" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Brooding Wild by Ridgwell Cullum</title> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} +p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} +.pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} +.pncolor {color:silver;} +h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} +h1 {font-size:1.6em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +a {text-decoration:none;} +div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} +div.loi a {text-decoration:underline;} +hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;} +div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} +div.figcenter p {text-align:center;} +p.center {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} +p.caption {font-size:smaller;} +div.titlepage {} +div.titlepage p {text-align:center;} +.fs20 {font-size:2.0em;} +.mb20 {margin-bottom:20px;} +.fs13 {font-size:1.3em;} +.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} +.fs11 {font-size:1.1em;} +.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +.tpi {margin:25px auto;text-align:center;} +.mb30 {margin-bottom:30px;} +.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +.mb00 {margin-bottom:00px;} +.mb10 {margin-bottom:10px;} +.mt00 {margin-top:00px;} +.i {font-style:italic;} +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} +td.tcol1 {text-align:right; padding-right:1ex; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol2 {text-align:left; padding-right:2ex; font-variant:small-caps; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol3 {text-align:right; vertical-align:bottom;} +td.center {text-align:center;} +td.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +td.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +td.tar {text-align:right;} +span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} +div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; margin-top:10px; margin-bottom:10px; text-align:center; width: 40%;} +.finis {text-align:center; margin-top:15px;} +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Brooding Wild, 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: In the Brooding Wild + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Illustrator: Charles Livingston Bull + +Release Date: March 12, 2010 [EBook #31607] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE BROODING WILD *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“THERE IS NO MOVEMENT IN THE SAVAGE BODY BUT THE<br />FURIOUS, NOISELESS LASHING OF THE TAIL” (<i>See page 244</i>) +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs20 mb20'>IN THE<br />BROODING WILD</p> + +<p class='fs13'>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</p> + +<p class='sc fs11'>Author of</p> + +<p class='fs08'>“The Story of The Foss River Ranch,”<br /> +“The Law Breakers,” “The Way<br /> +of the Strong,” Etc.</p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='mb30'>With Frontispiece<br />By CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL</p> + +<p class='fs12 mb00'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p class='fs11 mb10 mt00'>Publishers                New +York</p> +<p class='fs08'>Published by Arrangement with The Page Company</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p><i>Copyright, 1905</i><br /> <span class='sc'>By L. C. Page & +Company</span><br /> <span class='fs08'>(INCORPORATED)</span></p> <br /> <p +class='i'>All rights reserved</p></div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'>CHAPTER</td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2'>On the Mountainside</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2'>Which Tells of the White Squaw</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Quest of the White Squaw</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Hooded Man</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2'>The White Squaw</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Weird of the Wild</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2'>In the Storming Night</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Unquenchable Fire</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2'>To the Death</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Battle in the Wild</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Gathering of the Forest Legions</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2'>Where the Laws of Might Alone Prevail</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIII.</td><td class='tcol2'>Out on the Northland Trail</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_13'>213</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIV.</td><td class='tcol2'>Who Shall Fathom the Depths of a Woman’s Love?</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_14'>228</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XV.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Tragedy of the Wild</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_15'>239</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>IN THE BROODING WILD</h1> + +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><span class='h2fs'>ON THE MOUNTAINSIDE</span></h2> + +<p>To the spirit which broods over the stupendous solitudes of the northern +Rockies, the soul of man, with all its complex impulses, is but so much plastic +material which it shapes to its own inscrutable ends. For the man whose lot is +cast in the heart of these wilds, the drama of life usually moves with a +tremendous simplicity toward the sudden and sombre tragedy of the last act. The +titanic world in which he lives closes in upon him and makes him its own. For +him, among the ancient watch-towers of the earth, the innumerable interests and +activities of swarming cities, the restless tides and currents of an eager +civilization, take on the remoteness of a dream. The peace or war of nations is +less to him <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> than the +battles of Wing and Fur. His interests are all in that world over which he seeks +to rule by the law of trap and gun, and in the war of defence which he wages +against the aggression of the elements. He returns insensibly to the type of the +primitive man, strong, patient, and enduring.</p> + +<p>High up on the mountainside, overlooking a valley so deep and wide as to daze +the brain of the gazing human, stands a squat building. It seems to have been +crushed into the slope by the driving force of the vicious mountain storms to +which it is open on three sides. There is no shelter for it. It stands out +bravely to sunshine and storm alike with the contemptuous indifference of +familiarity. It is a dugout, and, as its name implies, is built half in the +ground. Its solitary door and single parchment-covered window overlook the +valley, and the white path in front where the snow is packed hard by the tramp +of dogs and men, and the runners of the dog-sled. Below the slope bears away to +the woodlands. Above the hut the overshadowing mountain rises to dazzling +heights; and a further, but thin, belt of primeval forest extends up, up, until +the eternal snows are reached and the air will no longer support life. Even to +the hardy hunters, whose home this is, those upper forests are sealed chapters +in Nature’s story.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span>Below the dugout, +and beyond the valley, lie countless lesser hills, set so closely that their +divisions are lost in one smooth, dark expanse of forest. Blackened rifts are +visible here and there, but they have little meaning, and only help to +materialize what would otherwise wear an utterly ghostly appearance. The valley +in front is so vast that its contemplation from the hillside sends a shudder of +fear through the heart. It is dark, dreadfully dark and gloomy, although the +great stretch of pine forest, which reaches to its uttermost confines, bears +upon its drooping branches the white coat of winter.</p> + +<p>The valley is split by a river, now frozen to its bed. But, from the hut +door, the rift which marks its course in the dark carpet cannot be seen.</p> + +<p>In the awesome view no life is revealed. The forests shadow the earth and +every living thing upon it, and where the forest is not there lies the snow to +the depth of many feet. It is a scene of solemn grandeur, over which broods +silence and illimitable space.</p> + +<p>Out of the deathly stillness comes a long-drawn sigh. It echoes down the +hillside like the weary expression of patient suffering from some poor creature +imprisoned where ancient glacier and everlasting snows hold place. It passes +over the low-pitched roof of the dugout, it plays about the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> angles and under the wide reaching eaves. +It sets the door creaking with a sound that startles the occupants. It passes on +and forces its way through the dense, complaining forest trees. The opposition +it receives intensifies its plaint, and it rushes angrily through the branches. +Then, for awhile, all is still again. But the coming of that breath from the +mountain top has made a difference in the outlook. Something strange has +happened. One looks about and cannot tell what it is. It may be that the air is +colder; it may be that the daylight has changed its tone; it may be that the +sunlit scene is changed as the air fills with sparkling, diamond frost +particles. Something has happened.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a dismal howl splits the air, and its echoes intensify the gloom. +Another howl succeeds it, and then the weird cry is taken up by other +voices.</p> + +<p>And ere the echoes die out another breath comes down from the hilltop, a +breath less patient; angry with a biting fierceness which speaks of patience +exhausted and a spirit of retaliation.</p> + +<p>It catches up the loose snow as it comes and hurls it defiantly at every +obstruction with the viciousness of an exasperated woman. Now it shakes the +dugout, and, as it passes on, shrieks invective at the world over which it +rushes, and everything it touches <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_5'></a>5</span> feels the bitter lash of the whipping snow it bears +upon its bosom. Again come the strange howls of the animal world, but they sound +more distant and the echoes are muffled, for those who cry out have sought the +woodland shelter, where the mountain breath exhausts itself against the +countless legions of the pines.</p> + +<p>Ere the shriek has died out, another blast comes, down the mountainside, and +up rises the fine-powdered snow like a thin fog. From the valley a rush of wind +comes up to meet it, and the two battle for supremacy. While the conflict rages +fresh clouds of snow rise in other directions and rush to the scene of action. +Encountering each other on the way they struggle together, each intolerant of +interference, until the shrieking is heard on every hand, and the snow fog +thickens, and the dull sun above grows duller, and the lurid “sun +dogs” look like evil coals of fire burning in the sky.</p> + +<p>Now, from every direction, the wind tears along in a mad fury. The forest +tops sway as with the roll of some mighty sea swept by the sudden blast of a +tornado. In the rage of the storm the woodland giants creak out their impotent +protests. The wind battles and tears at everything, there is no cessation in its +onslaught.</p> + +<p>And as the fight waxes the fog rises and a grey <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> darkness settles over the valley. The +forest is hidden, the hills are gone, the sun is obscured, and a fierce +desolation reigns. Darker and darker it becomes as the blizzard gains force. And +the cries of the forest beasts add to the chaos and din of the mountain +storm.</p> + +<p>The driving cold penetrates, with the bite of invisible arrows, to the +interior of the dugout. The two men who sit within pile up the fuel in the box +stove which alone makes life possible for them in such weather. The roof groans +and bends beneath the blast. Under the rattling door a thin carpet of snow has +edged its way in, while through the crack above it a steady rain of moisture +falls as the snow encounters the rising heat of the stifling atmosphere.</p> + +<p>“I knew it ’ud come, Nick,” observed one of the men, as he shut +the stove, after carefully packing several cord-wood sticks within its +insatiable maw.</p> + +<p>He was of medium height but of large muscle. His appearance was that of a man +in the prime of life. His hair, above a face tanned and lined by exposure to the +weather, was long and grey, as was the beard which curled about his chin. He was +clad in a shirt of rough-tanned buckskin and trousers of thick moleskin. His +feet were shod with moccasins <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_7'></a>7</span> which were brilliantly beaded. Similar bead-work +adorned the front of the weather-proof shirt.</p> + +<p>His companion was a slightly younger and somewhat larger man. The resemblance +he bore to his comrade indicated the relationship between them. They were +brothers.</p> + +<p>Ralph and Nicol Westley were born and bred in that dugout. Their father and +mother were long since dead, dying in the harness of the toil they had both +loved, and which they bequeathed to their children. These two men had never seen +the prairie. They had never left their mountain fastnesses. They had never even +gone south to where the railway bores its way through the Wild.</p> + +<p>They had been born to the life of the trapper and knew no other. They lived +and enjoyed their lives, for they were creatures of Nature who understood and +listened when she spoke. They had no other education. The men lived together +harmoniously, practically independent of all other human companionship.</p> + +<p>At long intervals, when pelts had accumulated and supplies had run low, they +visited the cabin of an obscure trader. Otherwise they were cut off from the +world and rejoiced in their isolation.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’ve had the warnin’ this week past,” rejoined +Nick solemnly, as he affectionately polished <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_8'></a>8</span> the butt of his rifle with a rag greased with +bear’s fat. “Them ’patch’ winds at sunrise an’ sunset +ain’t sent fer nothin’. I ’lows Hell’s hard on the heels +o’ this breeze. When the wind quits there’ll be snow, an’ snow +means us bein’ banked in. Say, she’s boomin’. Hark to her. You +can hear her tearin’ herself loose from som’eres up on the +hilltops.”</p> + +<p>Nick looked round the hut as though expecting to see the storm break through +the walls of their shelter. A heavy storm always affected the superstitious side +of these men’s natures. A blizzard to them was as the Evil Spirit of the +mountains. They always possessed the feeling, somewhere deep down in their +hearts, that the attack of a storm was directed against them. And the feeling +was a mute acknowledgment that they were interlopers in Nature’s most +secret haunts.</p> + +<p>Ralph had planted himself upon an upturned bucket, and sat with his hands +thrust out towards the stove. He was smoking, and his eyes were directed in a +pensive survey at a place where the black iron of the stove was steadily +reddening.</p> + +<p>Presently he looked up.</p> + +<p>“Ha’ ye fed the dogs, lad?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ay.”</p> + +<p>The two relapsed into silence. The creaking of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> the hut was like the protest of a wooden +ship riding a heavy storm at sea. The men shifted their positions with every +fresh burst which struck their home; it was as though they personally felt each +shock, and their bones ached with the strain of battle. The smoke curled up +slowly from Ralph’s pipe and a thin cloud hovered just beneath the roof. +The red patch on the stove widened and communicated itself to the stovepipe. +Presently the trapper leaned forward, and, closing the damper, raked away the +ashes with a chip of wood.</p> + +<p>Nick looked up and laid his gun aside, and, rising, stepped over to the +stove.</p> + +<p>“Makes ye feel good to hear the fire roarin’ when it’s +stormin’ bad. Ther’ ain’t no tellin’ when this’ll +let up.” He jerked his head backward to imply the storm.</p> + +<p>“It’s sharp. Mighty sharp,” replied his brother. +“Say–”</p> + +<p>He broke off and bent his head in an attitude of keen attention. He held his +pipe poised in his right hand, whilst his eyes focused themselves on a side of +bacon which hung upon the wall.</p> + +<p>Nick had turned towards the door. His attitude was intent also; he, too, was +listening acutely.</p> + +<p>The howling elements continued to beat furiously upon the house and the din +was appalling, but these <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_10'></a>10</span> two men, keen-eared, trained to the life of their +mountains, had heard a sound which was not the storm, nor of the forest +creatures doling their woful cries beneath the shelter of the woods.</p> + +<p>Slowly Ralph’s eyes moved from the bacon and passed over the smoke +stained wooden wall of the hut. Nor did they pause again until they looked into +the eyes of his brother. Here they fixed themselves and the working brains of +the two men seemed to communicate one with the other. Neither of them was likely +to be mistaken. To hear a sound in those wilds was to recognize it +unerringly.</p> + +<p>“A cry,” said Nick.</p> + +<p>“Some ’un out in the storm,” replied Ralph.</p> + +<p>“A neche.”</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head.</p> + +<p>“A neche would ’a’ know’d this was comin’. +He’d ’a’ made camp. ’Tain’t a neche. Hark!”</p> + +<p>The beat of the storm seemed to drown all other sounds, and yet those two men +listened. It is certain that what they heard would have been lost to most +ears.</p> + +<p>Ralph rose deliberately. There was no haste, nor was there any hesitation. +His intention was written on his face.</p> + +<p>“The lifeline,” he said briefly.</p> + +<p>Out into the awful storm the two men plunged <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_11'></a>11</span> a few moments later. There was no thought of their +own comfort in their minds. They had heard a cry–the cry of a human being, +and they were prepared to lend such aid as lay in their power. They did not +pause to wonder at a voice other than their own in those regions. Some one was +caught in the storm, and they knew that such a disaster meant certain death to +the poor wretch if they did not go to the rescue. The terror of the blizzard was +expressed in the significant words Ralph had uttered. Even these hardy men of +the wild dared not venture beyond their door without the lifeline which was +always kept handy.</p> + +<p>With their furs covering every part of them but their eyes and noses they +plunged into the fog of blinding snow. They could see nothing around +them–they could not even see their own feet. Each gripped a long pole, and +used his other hand to grasp the line.</p> + +<p>They moved down the beaten path with certain step. Three yards from the +dugout and the house was obscured. The wind buffeted them from every direction, +and they were forced to bend their heads in order to keep their eyes open.</p> + +<p>The whole attack of the wind now seemed to centre round those two struggling +human creatures. It is the way of the blizzard. It blows apparently <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> from every direction, and +each obstacle in its chaotic path becomes the special object of its +onslaught.</p> + +<p>A forceful gust, too sudden to withstand, would drive them, blind, groping, +from their path; and a moment later they would be hurled like shuttlecocks in +the opposite direction. They staggered under the burden of the storm, and groped +for the solid foothold of the track with their poles; and so they slowly gained +their way.</p> + +<p>Their strenuous life had rendered them uncomplaining, and they laboured in +silence. No emergency but they were ready to meet with a promptness that was +almost automatic. A slip upon the declining path and the fall was checked by the +aid of the poles which both men used as skilfully as any guide upon the Alps. +These contests with the elements were as much a part of their lives as were +their battles with the animal world.</p> + +<p>After awhile Ralph halted; he thrust his pole deep into the snow and held his +position by its aid. Then, throwing up his head, as might any wolf, he opened +his throat and uttered a prolonged cry. It rose high above the storm in a manner +which only the cry of a mountain or forest bred man can. It rushed forth borne +unwillingly upon the shrieking wind, and its sound almost instantly <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> died out of the ears of +the sender. But the men knew it was travelling. Nick followed his +brother’s example, and then Ralph gave out the mountain call again.</p> + +<p>Then they waited, listening. A sound, faint and far off, came in answer to +their cries. It was the human cry they had heard before.</p> + +<p>Ralph moved forward with Nick hard upon his heels. The line “paid +out,” and the points of the poles sought the hard earth beneath the snow. +They gained their way in spite of the storm, foot by foot, yard by yard. And, at +short intervals, they paused and sent their cries hurtling upon the vicious +wind. And to every cry came an answer, and every answer sounded nearer.</p> + +<p>They were on the only open track in the valley, and both men knew that +whoever was out in that storm must be somewhere upon it. Therefore they kept +on.</p> + +<p>“The line’s gettin’ heavy,” said Nick presently.</p> + +<p>“It’s only a little further,” replied Ralph.</p> + +<p>“By the weight o’ the line, I reckon ther’ ain’t +more’n fifty feet more.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe it’ll be ’nough.”</p> + +<p>And Ralph was right.</p> + +<p>Ten yards further on they almost fell over a dark mass lying in the snow. It +was a huddled heap, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +as of a creature striving to shut out the attack of the storm. It was the +attitude of one whose heart quails with dread. It was the attitude of one, who, +in possession of all his faculties and strength, lies down to die. Rank +cowardice was in that fur-clad figure, and the cries for help were as the +weeping of a fear-filled soul.</p> + +<p>Ralph was down upon his knees in a moment, and all that the still figure +conveyed was at once apparent to him. His hand fell heavily upon the man’s +shoulder, and he turned him over to look at his face.</p> + +<p>The victim of the storm groaned; as yet he was unable to realize that help +was at hand. Then, after several rough shakes, his head emerged from the folds +of an enormous storm-collar.</p> + +<p>As he looked up at the faces bending over him the two trappers uttered +exclamations.</p> + +<p>“It’s the trader!” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Victor Gagnon!” exclaimed Nick.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><span class='h2fs'>WHICH TELLS OF THE WHITE SQUAW</span></h2> + +<p>The stormy day was followed by an equally stormy night. Inside the dugout it +was possible, in a measure, to forget the terrors of the blizzard raging +outside. The glowing stove threw out its comforting warmth, and even the rank +yellow light of the small oil lamp, which was suspended from one of the rafters, +gave a cheering suggestion of comfort to the rough interior. Besides, there were +within food and shelter and human association, and the mind of man is easily +soothed into a feeling of security by such surroundings.</p> + +<p>The trappers had brought the rescued trader to the shelter of their humble +abode; they had refreshed him with warmth and good food; they had given him the +comfort of a share of their blankets, the use of their tobacco, all the +hospitality they knew how to bestow.</p> + +<p>The three men were ranged round the room in various attitudes of repose. All +were smoking <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +heavily. On the top of the stove stood a tin billy full to the brim of steaming +coffee, the scent of which, blending with the reek of strong tobacco, came +soothingly to their nostrils.</p> + +<p>Victor Gagnon was lying full length upon a pile of outspread blankets. His +face was turned towards the stove, and his head was supported upon one hand. He +looked none the worse for his adventure in the storm. He was a small, dark man +of the superior French half-breed class. He had a narrow, ferret face which was +quite good looking in a mean small way. He was clean shaven, and wore his +straight black hair rather long. His clothes, now he had discarded his furs, +showed to be of orthodox type, and quite unlike those of his hosts. He was a +trader who kept a store away to the northeast of the dugout. He worked in +connection with one of the big fur companies of the East, as an agent for the +wholesale house dealing directly with trappers and Indians.</p> + +<p>This was the man with whom the Westleys traded, and they were truly glad that +chance had put it in their power to befriend him. Their associations with him, +although chiefly of a business nature, were decidedly friendly.</p> + +<p>Now they were listening to his slow, quiet, thoughtful talk. He was a man who +liked talking, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> but +he always contrived that his audience should be those who gave information. +These two backwoodsmen, simple as the virgin forests to which they belonged, +were not keen enough to observe this. Victor Gagnon understood such men well. +His life had been made up of dealings with the mountain world and those who +peopled it.</p> + +<p>Nick, large and picturesque, sat tailor-fashion on his blankets, facing the +glowing stove with the unblinking, thoughtful stare of a large dog. Ralph was +less luxurious. He was propped upon his upturned bucket, near enough to the fire +to dispense the coffee without rising from his seat.</p> + +<p>“Yup. It’s a long trail for a man to make travellin’ light +an’ on his lone,” Victor was saying, while his black eyes flashed +swiftly upon his companions. “It’s not a summer picnic, I guess. +Maybe you’re wonderin’ what I come for.”</p> + +<p>He ceased speaking as a heavy blast shook the roof, and set the lamp swinging +dangerously.</p> + +<p>“We’re good an’ pleased to see you–” began +Ralph, in his deliberate way; but Victor broke in upon him at once.</p> + +<p>“O’ course you are. It’s like you an’ Nick there to +feel that way. But human natur’s human natur’, an’ maybe +som’eres you are jest wonderin’ what brought me along. Anyway, I come with +a red-hot <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> purpose. +Gee! but it’s blowin’. I ain’t like to forget this +storm.” Gagnon shuddered as he thought of his narrow escape.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he went on, with an effort at playfulness. “You two +boys are pretty deep–pretty deep.” He repeated himself reflectively. +“An’ you seem so easy and free, too. I do allow I’d never +’a’ thought it. Ha, ha!”</p> + +<p>He turned a smiling face upon his two friends and looked quizzically from one +to the other. His look was open, but behind it shone something else. There was a +hungriness in his sharp, black eyes which would have been observed by any one +other than these two backwoodsmen.</p> + +<p>“You allus was a bit fancy in your way o’ speakin’, +Victor,” observed Nick, responding to the man’s grin. “Hit the +main trail, man. We ain’t good at guessin’.”</p> + +<p>Ralph had looked steadily at the trader while he was speaking; now he turned +slowly and poured out three pannikins of coffee. During the operation he turned +his visitor’s words over in his mind and something of their meaning came +to him. He passed a tin to each of the others and sipped meditatively from his +own, while his eyes became fixed upon the face of the half-breed.</p> + +<p>“Ther’ was some fine pelts in that last parcel <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> o’ furs you brought +along,” continued Victor. “Three black foxes. But your skins is +always the best I get.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded over his coffee, whilst he added his other hand to the support +of the tin. Nick watched his brother a little anxiously. He, too, felt +uneasy.</p> + +<p>“It’s cur’us that you git more o’ them black pelts around +here than anybody else higher up north. You’re a sight better hunters than +any durned neche on the Peace River. An’ them hides is worth more’n +five times their weight in gold. You’re makin’ a pile o’ +bills. Say, you keep them black pelts snug away wi’ other stuff o’ +value.”</p> + +<p>Gagnon paused and took a deep draught at his coffee.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he went on, with a knowing smile. “I guess them +black foxes lived in a gold mine–”</p> + +<p>He broke off and watched the effect of his words. The others kept silence, +only their eyes betrayed them. The smoke curled slowly up from their pipes and +hung in a cloud about the creaking roof. The fire burned fiercely in the stove, +and with every rush of wind outside there came a corresponding roar of flame up +the stovepipe.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you take my meanin’,” said the Breed, assured that +his words had struck home. “Them <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_20'></a>20</span> black furs was chock full o’ +grit–an’ that grit was gold-dust. Guess that dust didn’t grow +in them furs; an’ I ’lows foxes don’t fancy a bed o’ such +stuff. Say, boys, you’ve struck gold in this layout o’ yours. +That’s what’s brought me out in this all-fired storm.”</p> + +<p>The two brothers exchanged rapid glances and then Ralph spoke for them +both.</p> + +<p>“You’re smart, Victor. That’s so. We’ve been +workin’ a patch o’ pay-dirt for nigh on to twelve month. But +it’s worked out; clear out to the bedrock. It wa’n’t jest a great +find, though I ’lows, while it lasted, we took a tidy wage out o’ +it–”</p> + +<p>“An’ what might you call a ‘tidy wage’?” asked the +Breed, in a tone of disappointment. He knew these men so well that he did not +doubt their statement; but he was loth to relinquish his dream. He had come +there to make an arrangement with them. If they had a gold working he considered +that, provided he could be of use to them, there would be ample room for him in +it. This had been the object of his hazardous journey. And now he was told that +it had worked out. He loved gold, and the news came as a great blow to him.</p> + +<p>He watched Ralph keenly while he awaited his reply, sitting up in his +eagerness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_21'></a>21</span>“Seventy-fi’ dollars a day,” Ralph +spoke without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Victor’s eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>“Each?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No, on shares.”</p> + +<p>There was another long silence while the voice of the storm was loud without. +Victor Gagnon was thinking hard, but his face was calm, his expression almost +indifferent. More coffee was drunk, and the smoke continued to rise.</p> + +<p>“I ’lows you should know if it’s worked out, sure.”</p> + +<p>The sharp eyes seemed to go through Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Dead sure. We ain’t drawn a cent’s worth o’ colour +out o’ it fer nine months solid.”</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t worth prospectin’ fer the reef?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say. I ain’t much when it comes to prospectin’ +gold. I knows the colour when I sees it.”</p> + +<p>Nick joined in the conversation at this point.</p> + +<p>“Guess you’d a notion you fancied bein’ in it,” he +said, smiling over at the Breed.</p> + +<p>Victor laughed a little harshly.</p> + +<p>“That’s jest what.”</p> + +<p>The two brothers nodded. This they had understood.</p> + +<p>“I’d have found all the plant fer big work,” <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> went on the trader +eagerly. “I’d have found the cash to do everything. I’d have +found the labour. An’ us three ’ud have made a great syndicate. We’d +’a’ run it dead secret. Wi’ me in it we could ’a’ +sent our gold down to the bank by the dogs, an’, bein’ as my +shack’s so far from here, no one ’ud ever ’a’ found whar the +yeller come from. It ’ud ’a’ been a real fine game–a jo-dandy +game. An’ it’s worked clear out?” he asked again, as though to +make certain that he had heard aright.</p> + +<p>“Bottomed right down to the bedrock. Maybe ye’d like to see fer +yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Guess I ken take your word, boys; ye ain’t the sort to lie to a +pal. I’m real sorry.” He paused and shifted his position. Then he +went on with a slightly cunning look. “I ’lows you’re like to take a +run down to Edmonton one o’ these days. A feller mostly likes to make +things hum when he’s got a good wad.” Gagnon’s tone was purely +conversational. But his object must have been plain to any one else. He was +bitterly resentful at the working out of the placer mine, and his anger always +sent his thoughts into crooked channels. His nature was a curious one; he was +honest enough, although avaricious, while his own ends were served. It was +different when he was balked.</p> + +<p>“We don’t notion a city any,” said Nick, simply.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span>“Things is +confusin’ to judge by the yarns folks tell,” added Ralph, with a +shake of his shaggy head.</p> + +<p>“Them fellers as comes up to your shack, Victor, mostly talks o’ +drink, an’ shootin’, an’–an’ women,” Nick +went on. “Guess the hills’ll do us. Maybe when we’ve done +wi’ graft an’ feel that it ’ud be good to laze, likely we’ll +go down an’ buy a homestead on the prairie. Maybe, I sez.”</p> + +<p>Nick spoke dubiously, like a man who does not convince himself.</p> + +<p>“Hah, that’s ’cause you’ve never been to a city,” +said the Breed sharply.</p> + +<p>“Jest so,” observed Ralph quietly, between the puffs at his +pipe.</p> + +<p>Gagnon laughed silently. His eyes were very bright and he looked from one +brother to the other with appreciation. An idea had occurred to him and he was +mentally probing the possibilities of carrying it out. What he saw pleased him, +for he continued to smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, maybe you’re right,” he said indulgently. Then +silence fell.</p> + +<p>Each man was rapt in his own thoughts, and talk without a definite object was +foreign to at least two of the three. The brothers were waiting in their stolid +Indian fashion for sleep to come. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_24'></a>24</span> The trader was thinking hard behind his lowered +eyelids, which were almost hidden by the thick smoke which rose from his +pipe.</p> + +<p>The fire burned down and was replenished. Ralph rose and gathered the +pannikins and threw them into a biscuit-box. Then he laid out his blankets while +Nick went over and bolted the door. Still the trader did not look up. When the +two men had settled themselves comfortably in their blankets the other at last +put his pipe away.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said, as he too negotiated his blankets, “guess we +want good sound men in these hills, anyway. I reckon you’ve no call to get +visitin’ the prairie, boys; you’re the finest hunters I’ve +ever known. D’ye know the name your shack here goes by among the +down-landers? They call it the ‘Westley Injun Reserve.’”</p> + +<p>“White Injuns,” said Nick, with a grin followed by a yawn.</p> + +<p>“That’s what,” observed Victor, curling himself up in his +blankets. “I’ve frequent heard tell of the White Squaw, but White +Injuns sounds like as it wa’n’t jest possible. Howsum, they call you real +white buck neches, an’ I ’lows ther’ ain’t no redskin in the +world to stan’ beside you on the trail o’ a fur.”</p> + +<p>The two men laughed at their friend’s rough <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> tribute to their attainments. Ralph was +the quieter of the two, but his appreciation was none the less. He was +simple-hearted, but he knew his own worth when dealing with furs. Nick laughed +loudly. It tickled him to be considered a White Indian at the calling which was +his, for his whole pride was in his work.</p> + +<p>Nick was not without a romantic side to his nature. The life of the mountains +had imbued him with a half-savage superstition which revelled in the uncanny +lore of such places. This was not the first time he had heard of a White Squaw, +and, although he did not believe such a phenomenon possible, it appealed +seductively to his love of the marvellous. Victor had turned over to sleep, but +Nick was very wide awake and interested. He could not let such an opportunity +slip. Victor was good at a yarn. And, besides, Victor knew more of the +mountain-lore than any one else. So he roused the Breed again.</p> + +<p>“You was sayin’ about a White Squaw, Victor,” he said, in a +shamefaced manner. His bronzed cheeks were deeply flushed and he glanced over at +his brother to see if he were laughing at him. Ralph was lying full length upon +his blankets and his eyes were closed, so he went on. “Guess +<i>I’ve</i> <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +heerd tell of a White Squaw. Say, ain’t it that they reckon as she +ain’t jest a human crittur?”</p> + +<p>Victor opened his eyes and rolled over on his back. If there was one weakness +he had it was the native half-breed love of romancing. He was ever ready to +yarn. He revelled in it when he had a good audience. Nick was the very man for +him, simple, honest, superstitious. So he sat up and answered readily +enough.</p> + +<p>“That’s jest how, pard. An’ it ain’t a yarn neither. +It’s gospel truth. I know.”</p> + +<p>“Hah!” ejaculated Nick, while a strange feeling passed down his +spine. Ralph’s eyes had slowly opened, but the others did not notice +him.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen her!” went on the trader emphatically.</p> + +<p>“You’ve seen her!” said Nick, in an awed whisper.</p> + +<p>An extra loud burst of the storming wind held the men silent a moment, then, +as it died away, Victor went on.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see her with my own two eyes, an’ I ain’t like to +ferget it neither. Say, ye’ve seen them Bible ’lustrations in my shanty? +Them pictur’s o’ lovesome critturs wi’ feathery wings +an’ sech?”</p> + +<p>“I guess.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>“Wal, clip +them wings sheer off, an’ you’ve got her dead right.”</p> + +<p>“Mush! But she must be a dandy sight,” exclaimed Nick, with +conviction. “How come ye to–”</p> + +<p>“Guess it’s a long yarn, an’ maybe ye’re +wantin’ to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Say, I ’lows I’d like that yarn, Victor. I ain’t worried +for sleep, any.”</p> + +<p>Nick deliberately refilled his pipe and lit it, and passed his tobacco to the +trader. Victor took the pouch. Ralph’s eyes had closed again.</p> + +<p>“You allus was a great one fer a yarn, Nick,” began the +half-breed, with a laugh. “Guess you most allus gets me gassin’; but +say, this ain’t no yarn, in a way. It’s the most cur’us bit o’ +truth, as maybe you’ll presently allow. But I ain’t goin’ to +tell it you if ye ain’t believin’, ’cause it’s the +truth.” The trader’s face had become quite serious and he spoke with +unusual earnestness. Nick was impressed, and Ralph’s eyes had opened +again.</p> + +<p>“Git goin’, pard; guess your word’s good fer me,” +Nick said eagerly. “You was sayin’–”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ve heard tell o’ the Moosefoot Injuns?” began the +trader slowly. Nick nodded. “They’re a queer lot o’ neches. I +used to do a deal o’ trade <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_28'></a>28</span> wi’ them on the Peace River, ’fore they was +located on a reserve. They were the last o’ the old-time redskin hunters. +Dessay they were the last to hunt the buffalo into the drives. They’re +pretty fine men now, I guess, as neches go, but they ain’t nothin’ +to what they was. I guess that don’t figger anyway, but they’re +different from most Injuns, which is what I was coming to. Their chief +ain’t a ‘brave,’ same as most, which, I ’lows, is unusual. Maybe +that’s how it come they ain’t allus on the war-path, an’ maybe +that’s how it come their river’s called Peace River. Their chief is +a Med’cine Man; has been ever since they was drove across the mountains from +British Columbia. They was pretty nigh wiped out when that happened, so they did +away wi’ havin’ a ‘brave’ fer a chief, an’ took on a +‘Med’cine Man.’</p> + +<p>“Wal, it ain’t quite clear how it come about, but the story, +which is most gener’ly believed, says that the first Med’cine Man was pertic’ler +cunnin’, an’ took real thick with the white folks’ way +o’ doin’ things. Say, he learned his folk a deal o’ +farmin’ an’ sech, an’ they took to trappin’ same as you +understand it. There wa’n’t no scrappin’, nor war-path +yowlin’; they jest come an’ settled right down an’ took on to +the land. Wal, this feller, ’fore he died, got the Mission’ry on his trail, +an’ got <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +religion; but he couldn’t git dead clear o’ his med’cine, an’ +he got to prophesyin’. He called all his folk together an’ took out +his youngest squaw. She was a pretty crittur, sleek as an antelope fawn; I ’lows +her pelt was nigh as smooth an’ soft. Her eyes were as black an’ big +as a moose calf’s, an’ her hair was as fine as black fox fur. Wal, +he up an’ spoke to them folk, an’ said as ther’ was a White +Squaw comin’ amongst ’em who was goin’ to make ’em a +great people; who was goin’ to lead ’em to victory agin their old +enemies in British Columbia, where they’d go back to an’ live in +peace. An’ he told ’em as this squaw was goin’ to be the +instrument by which the comin’ of the White Squaw was to happen. Then they +danced a Med’cine Dance about her, an’ he made med’cine for three days +wi’out stoppin’. Then they built her a lodge o’ teepees in the heart +o’ the forest, where she was to live by herself.</p> + +<p>“Wal, time went on an’ the squaw give birth to a daughter, but +she wa’n’t jest white, so the men took and killed her, I guess. Then came +another; she was whiter than the first, but she didn’t jest please the +folk, an’ they killed her too. Then came another, an’ another, each +child whiter than the last, an’ they were all killed, ’cause I guess they +wa’n’t jest white. Till the seventh come along. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> The seventh was the White Squaw. Say, +fair as a pictur, wi’ black hair that shone in the sun, an’ +wi’ eyes that blue as ’ud shame the summer sky.”</p> + +<p>The half-breed paused, and sat staring with introspective gaze at the iron +side of the stove. Nick was gazing at him all eyes and ears for the story. +Ralph, too, was sitting up now.</p> + +<p>“Wal, she was taken care of an’ treated like the queen she was. +On’y the headman was allowed to look at her. She grew an’ grew, an’ +all the tribe was thinkin’ of war, an’ gettin’ ready. They +made ‘braves’ nigh every week, an’ their Sun Dances was the greatest +ever known. They danced Ghost Dances, too, to keep away Evil Spirits, I guess, +an’ things was goin’ real good. Then sudden comes the white folk, +an’ after a bit they was all herded on to a Reserve an’ kep’ +there. But that White Squaw never left her home in the forest, ’cause no one but +the headman knew where she was. She was on’y a young girl then; I guess +she’s grown now. Wal, fer years them pore critturs reckoned on her +comin’ along an’ leadin’ them out on the war-path. But she +didn’t come; she jest stayed right along with her mother in that forest, +an’ didn’t budge.</p> + +<p>“That’s the yarn as it stan’s,” Victor went on, after +another pause, “but this is how I come to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_31'></a>31</span> see her. It was winter, an’ I was tradin’ +on the Reserve there. It was a fine, cold day, an’ the snow was good +an’ hard, an’ I set out to hunt an old bull moose that was +runnin’ with its mates in the location. I took two neches with me, +an’ we had a slap-up time fer nigh on to a week. We hunted them moose hard +the whole time, but never came up wi’ ’em. Then it came on to storm, +an’ we pitched camp in a thick pine forest. We was there fer nigh on three +days while it stormed a’mighty hard. Then it cleared an’ we set out, +an’, wi’in fifty yards o’ our camp, we struck the trail o’ the +moose. We went red-hot after them beasts, I’m figgerin’, an’ +they took us into the thick o’ the forest. Then we got a couple o’ +shots in; my slugs got home, but, fer awhiles, we lost them critturs. Next day +we set out again, an’ at noon we was startled by hearin’ a shot +fired by som’un else. We kep’ right on, an’ bimeby we came to a +clearin’. There we saw four teepees an’ a shack o’ pine logs +all smeared wi’ colour; but what came nigh to par’lyzin’ me was the +sight o’ my moose lyin’ all o’ a heap on the ground, +an’, standin’ beside its carcass, leanin’ on a long +muzzle-loader, was a white woman. She was wearin’ the blanket right +enough, but she was as white as you are. Say, she had six great huskies +wi’ her, an’ four <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_32'></a>32</span> women. An’ when they see us they put hard into +the woods. I was fer goin’ to have a look at the teepees, but my neches +wouldn’t let me. They told me the lodge was sacred to the White Squaw, who +we’d jest seen. An’ I ’lows, they neches wa’n’t jest easy till +we cleared them woods.”</p> + +<p>“An’ she was beautiful, an’–an’ fine?” +asked Nick, as the trader ceased speaking. “Was she that beautiful as +you’d heerd tell of?”</p> + +<p>His voice was eager with suppressed excitement. His pipe had gone out, and he +had forgotten everything but the story the Breed had told.</p> + +<p>“Ay, that she was; her skin was as clear as the snow she trod on, +an’ her eyes–gee! but I’ve never seen the like. Man, she was +wonderful.”</p> + +<p>Victor threw up his hands in a sort of ecstasy and looked up at the creaking +roof.</p> + +<p>“An’ her hair?” asked Nick, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“A black fox pelt was white aside it.”</p> + +<p>“An’ didn’t ye foller her?”</p> + +<p>The question came abruptly from Ralph, whom the others had forgotten.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t jest know you was awake,” said Victor. +“Wal, no, to own the truth, I ’lows I was scart to death wi’ what +them neches said. Maybe I wa’n’t sorry to light out o’ them +woods.”</p> + +<p>They talked on for a few moments longer, then <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> Ralph’s stertorous breathing told +of sleep. Victor was not long in following his example. Nick sat smoking +thoughtfully for some time; presently he rose and put out the lamp and stoked up +the fire. Then he, too, rolled over in his blankets, and, thinking of the +beautiful White Squaw, dropped off to sleep to continue his meditations in +dreamland.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE QUEST OF THE WHITE SQUAW</span></h2> + +<p>Christmas had gone by and the new year was nearing the end of its first +month. It was many weeks since Victor Gagnon had come to the Westley’s +dugout on that stormy evening. But his visit had not been forgotten. The story +of the White Squaw had made an impression upon Nick such as the half-breed could +never have anticipated. Ralph had thought much of it too, but, left to himself, +he would probably have forgotten it, or, at most, have merely remembered it as a +good yarn.</p> + +<p>But this he was not allowed to do. Nick was enthusiastic. The romance of the +mountains was in his blood, and that blood was glowing with the primest life of +man. The fire of youth had never been stirred within him, but it was there, as +surely as it is in every human creature. Both men were nearing forty years of +age, and, beyond the associations of the trader’s place, they had never +mixed with their fellows.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>The dream of this +beautiful White Squaw had come to Nick; and, in the solitude of the forest, in +the snow-bound wild, it remained with him, a vision of such joy as he had never +before dreamed. The name of “woman” held for him suggestions of +unknown delights, and the weird surroundings with which Victor had enveloped the +lovely creature made the White Squaw a vision so alluring that his uncultured +brain was incapable of shutting it out.</p> + +<p>And thus it was, as he glided, ghost-like, through the forests or scaled the +snowy crags in the course of his daily work, the memory of the mysterious +creature remained with him. He thought of her as he set his traps; he thought of +her, as, hard on the trail of moose, or deer, or wolf, or bear, he scoured the +valleys and hills; in the shadow of the trees at twilight, in fancy he saw her +lurking; even amidst the black, barren tree-trunks down by the river banks. His +eyes and ears were ever alert with the half-dread expectation of seeing her or +hearing her voice. The scene Victor had described of the white huntress leaning +upon her rifle was the most vivid in his imagination, and he told himself that +some day, in the chances of the chase, she might visit his valleys, his +hills.</p> + +<p>At night he would talk of her to his brother, and <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> together they would chum the matter over, +and slowly, in the more phlegmatic Ralph, Nick kindled the flame with which he +himself was consumed.</p> + +<p>And so the days wore on; a fresh zest was added to their toil. Each morning +Ralph would set out with a vague but pleasurable anticipation of adventure. And +as his mind succumbed to the strange influence of the White Squaw, it coloured +for him what had been the commonplace events of his daily life. If a buck was +started and rushed crashing through the forest growths, he would pause ere he +raised his rifle to assure himself that it was not a woman, garbed in the +parti-coloured blanket of the Moosefoot Indians, and with a face radiant as an +angel’s. His slow-moving imagination was deeply stirred.</p> + +<p>From the Beginning Nature has spoken in no uncertain language. “Man +shall not live alone,” she says. Victor Gagnon had roused these two simple +creatures. There was a woman in the world, other than the mother they had known, +and they began to wonder why the mountains should be peopled only by the forest +beasts and solitary man.</p> + +<p>As February came the time dragged more heavily than these men had ever known +it to drag before. They no longer sat and talked of the White Squaw, and +speculated as to her identity, and the phenomenon <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> of her birth, and her mission with regard +to her tribe. Somehow the outspoken enthusiasm of Nick had subsided into silent +brooding; and Ralph needed no longer the encouragement of his younger brother to +urge him to think of the strange white creature. Each had taken the subject to +himself, and nursed and fostered it in his own way.</p> + +<p>The time was approaching for their visit to Gagnon’s store. This was +the reason of the dragging days. Both men were eager for the visit, and the +cause of their eagerness was not far to seek. They wished to see the half-breed +and feed their passion on fresh words of the lovely creature who had so +strangely possessed their imaginations.</p> + +<p>They did not neglect the methodical routine of their duties. When night +closed in Nick saw to the dogs. The great huskies obeyed only one master who fed +them, who cared for them, who flogged them on the trail with club and whip; and +that was Nick. Ralph they knew not. He cooked. He was the domestic of the abode, +for he was of a slow nature which could deal with the small details of such +work. Nick was too large and heavy in his mode of life to season a stew. But in +the trapper’s craft it is probable that he was the better man.</p> + +<p>The brothers’ nights were passed in long, Indian-like silence which +ended in sleep. Tobacco scented <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_38'></a>38</span> the atmosphere of the hut with a heaviness that was +depressing. Each man sat upon his blankets alternating between his pannikin of +coffee and his pipe, with eyes lowered in deep thought, or turned upon the +glowing stove in earnest, unseeing contemplation.</p> + +<p>The night before the appointed day for starting came round. To-morrow they +would be swinging along over the snowy earth with their dogs hauling their laden +sled. The morrow would see them on their way to Little Choyeuse Creek, on the +bank of which stood Victor Gagnon’s store.</p> + +<p>There was an atmosphere of suppressed excitement in the doings of that night. +There was much to be done, and the unusual activity almost seemed a bustle in so +quiet an abode. Outside the door the sled stood piled with the furs which +represented their winter’s catch. The dog harness was spread out, and all +was in readiness. Inside the hut the two men were packing away the stuff they +must leave behind. Although there was no fear of their home being invaded it was +their custom to take certain precautions. In that hut were all their savings, to +lose which would mean to lose the fruits of their life’s labours.</p> + +<p>Nick had just moved a chest from the depths of the patchwork cupboard in +which they kept their <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_39'></a>39</span> food. It was a small receptacle hewn out of a solid +pine log. The lid was attached with heavy rawhide hinges, and was secured by an +iron hasp held by a clumsy-looking padlock. He set it down upon his +blankets.</p> + +<p>“Wer’ll we put this?” he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Ralph looked at it with his thoughtful eyes.</p> + +<p>“It needs considerin’,” he observed. And he leant himself +against a heavy table which stood by the wall.</p> + +<p>“We ain’t opened it since last fall,” said Nick presently, +after a long and steady survey of the object of their solicitude.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Ther’s a deal in it.”</p> + +<p>Ralph groped at the neck of his shirt. Nick watched his brother’s +movements.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we’ll figure it up agin.”</p> + +<p>Ralph fell in with his brother’s suggestion and drew out the key which +was secured round his neck. He unlocked the rusty padlock and threw open the +lid. The chest contained six small bags filled to bursting point and securely +tied with rawhide; one bag, half-full and open; and a thick packet of Bank of +Montreal bills.</p> + +<p>Nick knelt down and took out the bills and set them on one side.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_40'></a>40</span>“Ther’s fi’ thousand dollars +ther,” he said. “I ’lows they’ve been reckoned careful.” +Then he picked up one of the bags and held it up for his brother’s +inspection. “We tied them seven bags up all weighin’ equal, but we +ain’t jest sure how much dust they hold. Seven,” he went on +reflectively, “ther’s on’y six an’ a haf now, since them +woodbugs got at ’em, ’fore we made this chest. I ’lows Victor’s +’cute to locate the dust in them furs. It wa’n’t a good layout +wrappin’ the bags in black fox pelts. Howsum, I’d like to know the +value o’ them bags. Weighs nigh on to three poun’, I’m +guessin’.”</p> + +<p>Ralph took the bag and weighed it in his hand.</p> + +<p>“More,” he said. “Ther’s fi’ poun’ +o’ weight ther’.”</p> + +<p>“Guess them bags together means fifteen to twenty thousan’ +dollars, sure,” said Nick, his eyes shining at the thought.</p> + +<p>“I don’t rightly know,” said Ralph. “It’s a +goodish wad, I ’lows.”</p> + +<p>Nick returned the store to the chest which Ralph relocked.</p> + +<p>“Where?” asked Nick, glancing round the hut in search of a secure +hiding-place.</p> + +<p>“We’ll dig a hole in the floor under my blankets,” <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> said Ralph after a pause. +“Maybe it’ll be tol’ble safe there.”</p> + +<p>And for greater security the chest was so disposed. The work was quickly +done, and the clay floor, with the aid of water, was smeared into its usual +smooth appearance again. Then the brothers sought their rest.</p> + +<p>At daybreak came the start. Nick harnessed the dogs, five great huskies who +lived in the shelter of a rough shed outside the hut when it stormed, and curled +themselves up in the snow, or prowled, baying the moon, when the night was fine. +Fierce-looking brutes these with their long, keen muzzles, their high shoulders +and deep chests, their drooping quarters which were massed with muscle right +down to the higher sinews of their great feet. Their ferocity was chiefly the +animal antagonism for their kind; with Nick they were easy enough to handle, for +all had been well broken beneath the heavy lash which the man knew better than +to spare.</p> + +<p>While the dogs were being hitched into their places Ralph secured the door of +the dugout. There were no half measures here. The door was nailed up securely, +and a barrier of logs set before it. Then, when all was ready, the men took +their poles and Nick broke out the frost-bound runners of the sled. At the magic +word “Mush!” the dogs <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_42'></a>42</span> sprang at their breast-draws, and the sled glided +away down the slope with Nick running beside it, and Ralph following close +behind.</p> + +<p>Down they dropped into the depths of the silent valley, Nick guiding his dogs +by word of mouth alone. The lead dog, an especially vile-tempered husky, needed +nothing but the oft-repeated “Gee” and “Haw” where no +packed path was, and when anything approaching a trail was struck Nick issued no +commands. These creatures of the wild knew their work, loved it, lived for it, +as all who have seen them labouring over snow and ice must understand.</p> + +<p>By the route they must take it was one hundred miles to Little Choyeuse +Creek. One hundred miles of mountain and forest; one hundred miles of gloomy +silence; one hundred miles of virgin snow, soft to the feet of the labouring +dogs, giving them no foothold but the sheer anchorage of half-buried legs. It +was a temper-trying journey for man and beast. The dogs snapped at each +other’s heels, but the men remained silent, hugging their own thoughts and +toiling amidst the pleasure of anticipation.</p> + +<p>Skirting the forests wherever possible, and following the break of the +mammoth pine-trees when no bald opening was to hand they sped along. The <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> dogs hauled at the easy +running sled, while, with long, gliding strides, the two men kept pace with +them. The hills were faced by the sturdy dogs with the calm persistence of +creatures who know their own indomitable powers of endurance, while the descents +were made with a speed which was governed by the incessant use of Nick’s +pole.</p> + +<p>The evening camp was pitched in the shelter of the forest. The dogs fed +voraciously and well on their raw fish, for the journey was short and provisions +plentiful. The two men fared in their usual plain way. They slept in their +fur-lined bags while the wolfish burden-bearers of the North first prowled, +argued out their private quarrels, sang in chorus as the northern lights moved +fantastically in the sky, and finally curled themselves in their several +snow-burrows.</p> + +<p>The camp was struck at daylight next morning and the journey resumed. The +dogs raced fresh and strong after their rest, and the miles were devoured with +greedy haste. The white valleys wound in a mazy tangle round the foot of +tremendous hills, but never a mistake in direction was made by the driver, Nick. +To him the trail was as plain as though every foot of it were marked by +well-packed snow; every landmark was anticipated, every inch of that chaotic +land was an open <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +book. A “Gee,” or a sudden “Haw” and a fresh basin of +magnificent primeval forest would open before the travellers. And so the +unending ocean of mountain rollers and forest troughs continued. No variation, +save from the dead white of the open snowfields to the heavy shadows of the +forest. Always the strange, mystic grey twilight; the dazzling sparkle of +glinting snow; the biting air which stung the flesh like the sear of a red-hot +iron; the steady run of dogs and men. On, on, with no thought of time to harass +the mind, only the destination to think of.</p> + +<p>And when they came to Little Choyeuse Creek they were welcomed in person by +Victor Gagnon. He awaited them at his threshold. The clumsy stockade of lateral +pine logs, a relic of the old Indian days when it was necessary for every fur +store to be a fortress, was now a wreck. A few upright posts were standing, but +the rest had long since been used to bank the stoves with.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was spent in barter, and the time was one of beaming good +nature, for Victor was a shrewd dealer, and the two brothers had little real +estimate of the value of money. They sold their pelts in sets, regardless of +quality. And when the last was traded, and Victor had parted the value in stores +and cash, there came a strong feeling of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_45'></a>45</span> relief to the trappers. Now for their brief +holiday.</p> + +<p>It was the custom on the occasion of these visits to make merry in a +temperate way. Victor was never averse to such doings for there was French blood +in his veins. He could sing a song, and most of his ditties were either of the +old days of the Red River Valley, or dealt with the early settlers round the +Citadel of Quebec. Amongst the accomplishments which he possessed was that of +scraping out woful strains upon an ancient fiddle. In this land, where life was +always serious, he was a right jovial companion for such men as Nick and Ralph, +and the merry evenings in his company at the store were well thought of.</p> + +<p>When night closed down, and supper was finished, and the untidy living-room +which backed the store was cleared by the half-breed, the business of the +evening’s entertainment began. The first thing in Victor’s idea of +hospitality was a “brew” of hot drink. He would have called it +“punch,” but the name was impossible. It was a decoction of vanilla +essence, spiced up, and flavoured in a manner which, he claimed, only he +understood. The result was stimulating, slightly nauseating, but sufficiently +unusual to be enticing to those who lived the sober life of the mountain wild. +He would <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> have +bestowed good rum or whiskey upon these comrades of his, only his store of those +seductive beverages had long since given out, and was not likely to be +replenished until the breaking of spring. The variety of strong drink which +falls to the lot of such men as he is extensive. His days of +“painkiller,” which he stocked for trade, had not yet come round. +The essences were not yet finished. Painkiller would come next; after that, if +need be, would come libations of red ink. He had even, in his time, been reduced +to boiling down plug tobacco and distilling the liquor. But these last two were +only used <i>in extremis</i>.</p> + +<p>The three men sat round and sipped the steaming liquor, the two brothers +vying with each other in their praises of Victor’s skill in the +“brew.”</p> + +<p>The first glass was drunk with much appreciation. Over the second came a +dallying. Nick, experiencing the influence of the spirit, asked for a tune on +the fiddle. Victor responded with alacrity and wailed out an old half-breed +melody, a series of repetitions of a morbid refrain. It produced, nevertheless, +an enlivening effect upon Ralph, who asked for another. Then Victor sang, in a +thin tenor voice, the twenty and odd verses of a song called “The Red +River Valley;” the last lines of the refrain were always the same and +wailed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> out +mournfully upon the dense atmosphere of the room.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“So remember the Red River Valley<br /> And the half-breed that loved +you so true.”</p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>But, even so, there was something perfectly in keeping between the recreation +of these men and the wild, uncouth life they led. The long, grey winter and the +brief, fleeting summer, the desolate wastes and dreary isolation.</p> + +<p>After awhile the sum of Victor’s entertainment was worked out and they +fell back on mere talk. But as the potent spirit worked, the conversation became +louder than usual, and Victor did not monopolize it. The two brothers did their +share, and each, unknown to the other, was seeking an opportunity of turning +Victor’s thoughts into the channel where dwelt his recollections of the +wonderful White Squaw.</p> + +<p>Nick was the one who broke the ice. The more slow-going Ralph had not taken +so much spirit as his brother. Nick’s eyes were bright, almost burning, as +he turned his flushed, rugged face upon the half-breed. He leant forward in his +eagerness and his words came rapidly, almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Say, Victor,” he jerked out, as though he had screwed himself up +for the necessary courage to speak on the subject. “I was thinkin’ +o’ that white <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +crittur you got yarnin’ about when you come around our shanty. Jest +whar’s that Moosefoot Reserve, an’–an’ the bit o’ +forest whar her lodge is located? Maybe I’d fancy to know. I ’lows I was +kind o’ struck on that yarn.”</p> + +<p>The trader saw the eager face, and the excitement in the eyes which looked +into his, and, in a moment, his merry mood died out. His dark face became +serious, and his keen black eyes looked sharply back into Nick’s +expressive countenance. He answered at once in characteristic fashion.</p> + +<p>“The Reserve’s nigh on to a hund’ed an’ fifty miles from +here, I guess. Lies away ther’ to the nor’east, down in the Foothills. The +bluff lies beyond.” Then he paused and a flash of thought shot through his +active brain. There was a strange something looking out of Nick’s eyes +which he interpreted aright. Inspiration leapt, and he gripped it, and held +it.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he went on, “you ain’t thinkin’ o’ +makin’ the Reserve, Nick?” Then he turned swiftly and looked at +Ralph. The quieter man was gazing heavily at his brother. And as Victor turned +back again to Nick his heart beat faster.</p> + +<p>Nick lowered his eyes when he found himself the object of the double +scrutiny. He felt as though he would like to have withdrawn his questions, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> he shifted uneasily. +But Victor waited for his answer and he was forced to go on.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he said, with a shamefaced laugh, “I was on’y jest +thinkin’. I ’lows that yarn was a real good one.”</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence while swift thought was passing behind +Victor’s dark face. Then slowly, and even solemnly, came words which +gripped the hearts of his two guests.</p> + +<p>“It wa’n’t no yarn. I see that White Squaw wi’ my own two +eyes.”</p> + +<p>Nick started to his feet. The “punch” had fired him almost beyond +control. His face worked with nervous twitchings. He raised one hand up and +swung it forcefully down as though delivering a blow.</p> + +<p>“By Gar!” he cried, “then I go an’ find her; I go +an’ see for myself.”</p> + +<p>And as he spoke a strange expression looked out of Victor’s eyes.</p> + +<p>Ralph removed his pipe from his lips.</p> + +<p>“Good, Nick,” he said emphatically. “The dogs are fresh. +Guess a long trail’ll do ’em a deal o’ good. When’ll we +start?”</p> + +<p>Nick looked across at his brother. He was doubtful if he had heard aright. He +had expected strong opposition from the quiet, steady-going Ralph. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> But, instead, the elder +man gave unhesitating approval. Just for one instant there came a strange +feeling in his heart; a slight doubt, a sensation of disappointment, something +foreign to his nature and unaccountable, something which took all pleasure from +the thought of his brother’s company. It was quite a fleeting sensation, +however, for the next moment it was gone; his honest nature rose superior to any +such jealousy and he strode across the room and gripped Ralph’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Say, we’ll start at daylight, brother. Jest you an’ +me,” he blurted out, in the fulness of his large heart. “We’ll +hunt that white crittur out, we’ll smell her out like Injun med’cine-men, +an’ we’ll bring her back wi’ us. Say, Ralph, we’ll treat +her like an angel, this dandy, queer thing. By Gar! We’ll find her, sure. +Shake again, brother.” They wrung each other forcefully by the hand. +“Shake, Victor.” And Nick turned and caught the trader’s slim +hand in his overwhelming grasp.</p> + +<p>His enthusiasm was at boiling point. The brew of essences had done its work. +Victor’s swift-moving eyes saw what was passing in the thoughts of both +his guests. And, like the others, his enthusiasm rose. But there was none of the +simple honesty of these men in Victor. The half-breed cunning <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> was working within him; +and the half-breed cunning is rarely clean.</p> + +<p>And so the night ended to everybody’s satisfaction. Ralph was even more +quiet than usual. Victor Gagnon felt that the stars were working in his best +interests; and he blessed the lucky and innocent thought that had suggested to +him the yarn of the White Squaw. As for Nick, his delight was boisterous and +unrestrained. He revelled openly in the prospect of the morrow’s +journey.</p> + +<p>Nor had broad daylight power to shake the purpose of the night. Too long had +the trappers brooded upon the story of the White Squaw. Victor knew his men so +well too; while they breakfasted he used every effort to encourage them. He +literally herded them on by dint of added detail and well-timed praise of the +woman’s beauty.</p> + +<p>And after the meal the sled was prepared. Victor was chief adviser. He made +them take a supply of essences and “trade.” He told them of the +disposition of Man-of-the-Snow-Hill, the Moosefoot chief, assuring them he would +sell his soul for strong drink. No encouragement was left ungiven, and, well +before noon, the dogs stood ready in the traces.</p> + +<p>A hearty farewell; then out upon the white trail Nick strung the willing +beasts, and the flurry of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_52'></a>52</span> loose surface-snow that flew in their wake hid the +sled as the train glided away to the far northeast.</p> + +<p>Victor stood watching the receding figures till the hiss of the runners died +down in the distance, and the driving voice of Nick became lost in the grey +solitude. The northern trail held them and he felt safe. He moved out upon the +trampled snow, and, passing round to the back of the store, disappeared within +the pine wood which backed away up the slope of the valley.</p> + +<p>Later he came to where three huts were hidden away amongst the vast +tree-trunks. They were so placed, and so disguised, as to be almost hidden until +the wanderer chanced right upon them. These habitations were a part of +Victor’s secret life. There was a strange mushroom look about them; low +walls of muck-daubed logs supported wide-stretching roofs of reeds, which, in +their turn, supported a thick covering of soot-begrimed snow. He paused near by +and uttered a low call, and presently a tall girl emerged from one of the doors. +She walked slowly toward him with proud, erect carriage, while at her heels +followed two fierce husky dogs, moving with all the large dignity of honoured +guards. The woman was taller than the trader, and her beauty of figure was in no +wise hidden by the blanket clothing she wore. They talked earnestly <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> together for some time, +and then, in answer to a further summons from Victor, they were joined by a +tall, gaunt man, with the solemn cast of face of an Indian, and a pair of eyes +as darkly brooding as those of a moose. Although he was very dark-skinned he was +plainly of the bastard race of his companions, and a certain resemblance between +himself and the woman spoke of relationship.</p> + +<p>The three talked long and seriously, and finally Victor returned alone to the +store. Again he took up his stand in the doorway and remained gazing out upon +the valley of the Little Choyeuse Creek, and the more distant crags of the +foothills beyond.</p> + +<p>His face was serious; serious even for the wild, where all levity seems out +of place, and laughter jars upon the solemnity of the life and death struggle +for existence which is for ever being fought out there. On his brow was a pucker +of deep thought, whilst his eyes shone with a look which seemed to have gathered +from his surroundings much of the cunning which belongs to the creatures of the +forest. His usual expression of good-fellowship had passed; and in its place +appeared a hungry, avaricious look which, although always there, was generally +hidden behind a superficial geniality. Victor had hitherto lived fairly honestly +because there <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> was +little or no temptation to do otherwise where his trading-post was stationed. +But it was not his nature to do so. And as he stood gazing out upon the rugged +picture before him he knew he was quite unobserved; and so the rough soul within +him was laid bare to the grey light of the world.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE HOODED MAN</span></h2> + +<p>The mere suggestion of the possibility of a woman’s presence had rudely +broken up the even calm of Ralph and Nick Westley’s lives. To turn back to +the peace of their mountain home without an effort to discover so fair and +strange a creature as this White Squaw would have been impossible.</p> + +<p>These men had known no real youth. They had fought the battle of life from +the earliest childhood, they had lived lives as dispassionate and cold as the +glaciers of their mountain home. Recreation was almost unknown to them. Toil, +unremitting, arduous, had been their lot. Thus Nature had been defied; and now +she was coming back on them as inevitably as the sun rises and sets, and the +seasons come and go. They failed to realize their danger; they had no +understanding of the passions that moved them, and so they hurried headlong upon +the trail that was to lead them they knew not <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_56'></a>56</span> whither, but which was shadowed by disaster every +foot of the way. To them temptation was irresistible for they had never known +the teaching of restraint; it was the passionate rending of the bonds which had +all too long stifled their youth.</p> + +<p>Even the dogs realized the change in their masters. Nick’s lash fell +heavily and frequently, and the hardy brutes, who loved the toil of the trace, +and the incessant song of the trailing sled, fell to wondering at the change, +and the pace they were called upon to make. It was not their nature to complain; +their pride was the stubborn, unbending pride of savage power, and their reply +to the wealing thong was always the reply their driver sought. Faster and faster +they journeyed as the uncooling ardour of their master’s spirits rose.</p> + +<p>The snow lay thick and heavy, and every inch of the wild, unmeasured trail +had to be broken. The Northland giants thronged about them, glistening in their +impenetrable armour and crested by the silvery burnish of their glacial +headpieces. They frowned vastly, yet with a sublime contempt, at the puny +intrusion of their solitude. But the fiery spirit impelling the brothers was a +power which defied the overwhelming grandeur of the mountain world, and rendered +insignificant the trials they encountered. The cry was “On!” and the +dogs laboured <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> as +only these burden-bearers of the North can labour.</p> + +<p>The dark day ripened; and, as the dull sun crept out from behind the +greyness, and revealed the frost in the air, the temperature dropped lower and +lower. And the animal world peeped furtively out upon the strange sight of +creatures like themselves toiling at the command of beings whose voices had not +even the power to smite the mountainsides with boastful defiance as theirs were +wont to do.</p> + +<p>Then the daylight waned. The sky returned to its greyness as the night shades +rose, and a bitter breeze shuddered through the woods and along the valleys. The +sounds of the forest rose in mournful cadence, and, as the profundity of the +mountain night settled heavily upon the world, the timber-wolf, the outlaw of +the region, moved abroad, lifting his voice in a cry half-mournful, +half-exultant.</p> + +<p>Camp was pitched well clear of the forest and a large fire kindled; and the +savage night-prowlers drew forth from the woodland shadows. The men proceeded +silently with their various tasks. Ralph prepared their own food, and soon a +savoury odour tickled the nostrils of those beyond the circle of the firelight. +Nick thawed out the dogs’ evening meal and distributed it impartially, +standing over the hungry beasts with a club to see that each got the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> full benefit of his +portion. It was a strange sight for the furtive eyes that looked on, and a +tantalizing one, but they dared not draw near, for the fire threatened them, +and, besides, they possessed a keen instinct of caution.</p> + +<p>After supper the men rested in spells, one always sitting up by the fire +whilst the other slept in the comfort of his fur-lined “Arctic bag.” +And presently the blackness about lightened, and the dark shadows prowling +became visible to the eyes of the sentry. The moon had risen, but was still +hidden somewhere behind the great mountains. Its light had effect, that was all. +And as the night wore on the shadows grew bolder and their presence kept the +sentry ever on the alert. For the most part he sat still, swathed to the eyes in +his furs; he huddled down over the fire smoking, every now and then pausing to +thaw the nicotine in the stem of his pipe. But his eyes seemed to be watching in +every direction at once. Nor was the vaguest shadow lost to their quick flashing +glances.</p> + +<p>The dogs, sleeping in their snow-burrows, rested their muscles, dreaming +peacefully of happy hunting-grounds. Their safety was assured under the watchful +eyes of their masters; the forest world had no terrors for them.</p> + +<p>Towards dawn Nick was on the watch. The <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_59'></a>59</span> aspect of the night had quite changed. The moon, +large, full, brilliant, was directly overhead, and the stars, like magnificent +dewdrops, hung richly in the sky. Away to the north, just clear of a stretch of +heaven-high peaks, the scintillating shafts of the northern lights shuddered +convulsively, like skeleton arms outstretched to grasp the rich gems which hung +just beyond their reach. The moving shadows had changed to material forms. Lank, +gaunt, hungry-looking beasts crowded just beyond the fire-lit circle; +shaggy-coated creatures, with manes a-bristle and baleful eyes which gazed +angrily upon the camp.</p> + +<p>Nick saw all these; could have counted them, so watchful was he. The wolves +were of small account, but there were other creatures which needed his most +vigilant attention. Twice in the night he had seen two green-glowing eyes +staring down upon him from among the branches of one of the trees on the edge of +the forest. He knew those eyes, as who of his calling would not; a puma was +crouching along the wide-spreading bough.</p> + +<p>He stealthily drew his gun towards him. He was in the act of raising it to +his shoulder when the eyes were abruptly withdrawn. The time passed on. He knew +that the puma had not departed, and he waited, ready. The eyes reappeared. Up +leapt the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> rifle, but +ere his hand had compressed the trigger a sound from behind arrested him. His +head turned instantly, and, gazing through the light, drifting fire smoke, he +beheld the outline of a monstrous figure bearing down upon the camp in an almost +human manner. In size the newcomer dwarfed the trapper; it came slowly with a +shuffling gait. Suddenly it dropped to all-fours and came on quicker. Nick +hesitated only for a second. His mouth set firmly and his brows contracted. He +knew that at all hazards he must settle the puma first. He glanced at the +sleeping Ralph. He was about to rouse him; then he changed his mind and swung +round upon the puma, leaving the fire between himself and the other. He took a +long and deadly aim. The glowing eyes offered a splendid target and he knew he +must not miss. A report rang out, followed almost instantaneously by a piteous, +half-human shriek of pain; then came the sound of a body falling, and the eyes +had vanished. After firing Nick swung round to the figure beyond the fire. It +loomed vast in the yellow light and was reared to its full height not ten yards +away. A low, snarling growl came from it, and the sound was dreadful in its +suppressed ferocity. Ralph was now sitting up gazing at the oncoming +brute,–a magnificent <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_61'></a>61</span> grizzly. Nick stooped, seized a blazing log from the +fire, and dashed out to meet the intruder.</p> + +<p>It was a strange and impressive sight, this encounter of man and beast. But +Nick, with his wide experience, was master of the situation. He boldly went up +to within two yards of his savage and fearless foe and dashed the burning brand +into the creature’s face. Down dropped the grizzly upon all-fours again, +and, with a roar of pain and terror, ambled hastily away into the forest.</p> + +<p>“B’ar?” questioned Ralph, from the shelter of his fur bag.</p> + +<p>“Yes–an’ puma,” replied Nick unconcernedly, as he +returned to his seat to await the coming of morning.</p> + +<p>And so the long night passed, and the slow day broke over the bleak, pitiless +world. The dogs awoke, and clambered from their warm, snowy couches. The routine +of the “long trail” obtained, and once more the song of the sled +rang out at the heels of the eager beasts.</p> + +<p>Nor was the short day and long weary night in such a region without effect +upon the men. A feeling of superstitious uneasiness seized upon Nick. He said +nothing, he was possibly too ashamed of it to do so, but the dread steadily +grew, and no effort of his seemed to have power to dispel it. As he <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> moved along beside his +dogs he would shoot swift, fearful glances at the heights above, or back over +the trail, or on ahead to some deep, dark gorge they might be approaching. He +grew irritable. The darkness of the woods would sometimes hold his attention for +hours, while the expression of his eyes would tell of the strange thoughts +passing behind them. And Ralph, though more unemotional than his brother, was +scarcely less affected. It was startling in such men, yet was it hardly to be +wondered at in so overpowering a waste.</p> + +<p>It was still the morning of the second day. Nick’s whip had been silent +for a long time. His eyes were gazing out afar. Sometimes up at the lowering +sky, where the peaks were lost in a sea of dark cloud, sometimes down, with a +brooding fire, into the forest depths. Ralph had observed the change in his +brother and sympathy prompted him to draw up alongside him.</p> + +<p>“What’s ailin’ ye?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Nick shook his head; he could not say that anything ailed him.</p> + +<p>“Thought, maybe ther’ was somethin’ amiss,” went on +his brother, half-apologetically. He felt himself that he must talk.</p> + +<p>Then Nick was seized with a desire to confide in the only lifelong friend he +had ever known.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>“Ther’ +ain’t nothin’ amiss, zac’ly,” he said. And he got no +farther.</p> + +<p>“Hah!”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked round sharply. It seemed as if something were stirring about +him. He waited expectantly. There was nothing unusual in sight. A wild panorama +of snowy grandeur; mountain and valley and wood, that was all.</p> + +<p>They traipsed on in silence, but now they journeyed side by side. Both men +were strangely moved. Both had heard of the “Dread of the Wild,” but +they would have scoffed at the idea of its assailing them. But the haunting +clung, and at each step they felt that the next might be the signal for a +teeming spirit life to suddenly break up the dreadful calm.</p> + +<p>They passed a hollow where the snow was unusually deep and soft. The dogs +laboured wearily. They reached the rising end of it, and toiled up the sharp +ascent. The top was already in sight and a fresh vista of the interminable peaks +broke up their view. Without apparent reason Nick suddenly drew up and a sharp +exclamation broke from him. The dogs lay down in the traces, and both men gazed +back into the hollow they had left. Nick towered erect, and, with eyes staring, +pointed at a low hill on the other side of it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>Ralph followed the +direction of the outstretched arm. And as he looked he held his breath, for +something seemed to grip his throat.</p> + +<p>Then a moment later words, sounding hoarse and stifled, came from the depths +of his storm-collar.</p> + +<p>“Who–who is it?”</p> + +<p>Nick did not answer. Both were staring out across the hollow at the tall +motionless figure of a man, and their eyes were filled with an expression of +painful awe. The figure was aggressively distinct, silhouetted as it was against +a barren, snow-clad crag. They might have been gazing at a statue, so still the +figure stood. It was enveloped in fur, so far as the watchers could tell, but +what impressed them most was the strange hood which covered the head. The figure +was too distant for them to have distinguished the features of the face had they +been visible, but, as it was, they were lost within the folds of the grey +hood.</p> + +<p>There came an ominous click from behind. Ralph turned suddenly and seized his +brother’s arm as he was in the act of raising his rifle to his shoulder. +The gun was lowered, and the intense face of Nick scowled at the author of the +interruption.</p> + +<p>“It’s–it ain’t a human crittur,” he said +hoarsely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>“It’s +a man,” retorted Ralph, without releasing his hold.</p> + +<p>And the two brothers became silent.</p> + +<p>They stood watching for a long time. Neither spoke again, they had nothing to +say. Their thoughts occupied them with strange apprehension while the dogs +sprawled in the snow in the spiritless manner of their kind when the labour of +the traces is not demanded of them. The figure on the hill stood quite still. +The silence of the wild was profound. No wind stirred to relieve it, and even +under their warm furs the two men watching shivered as with cold.</p> + +<p>At last the movement they had awaited came. The Hooded Man turned towards +them. One long arm was raised and he pointed away at a tall hill. Then his arm +moved, and he seemed to be pointing out certain landmarks for his own benefit. +Again, on a sudden, as he fronted the direction where the brothers stood, he +dropped his arm, and, a moment later, disappeared on the other side of the hill. +The two men remained gazing out across the hollow for some while longer, but as +the Hooded Man did not return they turned back to their dogs and continued their +journey.</p> + +<p>Nick shook his head in a dissatisfied manner. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> Ralph said nothing for awhile. He was +beginning to doubt his own assertion.</p> + +<p>The dogs leapt at their breast-draws and the sled moved forward. The two men +ran side by side. When Nick at length spoke it was to reiterate his fears.</p> + +<p>“Ther’ wa’n’t no face showed,” he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Ralph. Then he added thoughtfully: “He +hadn’t no dogs, neither.”</p> + +<p>“He was alone, seemly. Ther’ wa’n’t no camp +outfit.”</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head and brushed away the ice about his mouth with the back +of his beaver mitt.</p> + +<p>There was a painful atmosphere of disquiet about the two men. Their backward +glances spoke far louder than words. Had their mission been in the nature of +their ordinary calling they would possibly have felt nothing but curiosity, and +their curiosity would have led them to investigate further, but as it was, all +their inclinations tended in the opposite direction. “The Dread of the +Wild” had come to them.</p> + +<p>When they camped at midday things were no better. They had seen nothing more +to disturb them, but the thoughts of both had turned upon the night, so long and +drear, which was to come; and the “dread” grew stronger.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span>After the noon +meal Nick harnessed the dogs while Ralph stowed the chattels. They were on a +hillside overlooking a wide valley of unbroken forest. All was ready for a start +and Nick gave a wide, comprehensive glance around. The magic word +“Mush,” which would send the dogs headlong at their breast harness, +hovered on his lips, but ere he gave it utterance it changed into an ejaculation +of horror.</p> + +<p>“By Gar!” Then after a thrilling pause, “The +Hood!”</p> + +<p>Ralph, standing ready to break the sled out, turned.</p> + +<p>“Hey!” he ejaculated; and horror was in his tone, too.</p> + +<p>There, in the hazy distance, more than three miles away, was the dim figure +of the Hooded Man racing over the snow. His course lay on the far side of the +valley and he was to the rear of them.</p> + +<p>Nick turned back to the dogs, the command “Mush!” rang out with +biting emphasis, and the dogs and men, as though both were animated by the same +overwhelming fear, raced down the virgin trail. Their pace was a headlong +flight.</p> + +<p>Night came, and they camped in the open. The night was blacker, and longer, +more weary and shadowy than the first, by reason of the “dread” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> which had now become +the “Dread of the Hooded Man.” Even thoughts of the White Squaw took +a secondary place in the minds of the brothers, for, at every turn, they felt +that their steps were dogged by that other strange creature of the wild. When +morning came they knew, without looking, that somewhere, coldly surveying their +camp, the grey-hooded figure would be watching and waiting for them to move on. +And sure enough, as the eager eyes looked out over the snow and forest, the +grim, silent figure was there, watching, watching; but no nearer to them.</p> + +<p>That night they came to the Moosefoot Reserve, and both men experienced such +nervous relief as they had never before known. They camped within sight of the +Indian teepees and log huts, but they waited for morning before they approached +the chief.</p> + +<p>Over their fire they discussed their plans with seriousness. Neither of them +could speak the Moosefoot language, but they could talk both Sioux and Cree, and +they did not doubt but there would be interpreters about the chief.</p> + +<p>“We’ll see him first thing, I guess,” said the eager Nick. +“Guess them two black foxes’ll fix him good. He’ll git a +goodish bit o’ trade for ’em.”</p> + +<p>“An’ we’ll promise him powder, an’ slugs, an’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> essences,” +said the cautious Ralph. “We’ll get his yarn first an’ pay +after,” he added, as he sipped his coffee.</p> + +<p>Nick nodded.</p> + +<p>“We’ll fin’ that crittur, sure,” he said.</p> + +<p>And he sat gazing upon the pictures his mind conjured up as he watched the +flaming logs. In every tongue of flame he beheld the glowing face Victor had +told them of, and, as the smoke rolled up into the black vault of night, he +seemed to see the elusive form of the White Squaw floating in its midst. +Ralph’s slower imagination was less fantastically, but no less deeply, +stirred.</p> + +<p>At daybreak they sought Man-of-the-Snow-Hill’s lodge. They found him a +grizzled wreck of extreme age. He was surrounded by his medicine-men, his young +chiefs and his squaws. And by the gathering in the smoke-begrimed hut they knew +that their approach had been made known.</p> + +<p>Perfect silence reigned as the white men entered. An Indian silence; such +silence as it would be hard to find anywhere but in the primitive dwelling. The +atmosphere of the place was heavy with the pungent odours of Killi-ka-nik. Both +men and women were smoking it in pipes of red clay with reed stems, and they +passed this sign of friendship from one to another in solemn fashion. All were +clad in the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +parti-coloured blanket, and sat hunched upon their quarters more like beasts +than human creatures, yet with that perfect air of dignity which the Indian +seldom loses.</p> + +<p>Man-of-the-Snow-Hill alone differed in his dress and attitude. He was wrapped +in a large buffalo robe, and was stretched out upon a pile of skins to ease his +rheumatics, while, spread out before him, were a number of charms and much +“med’cine,” which had been so set by his wise men to alleviate his +ailments. In the centre of the throng a fire smouldered, and the smoke therefrom +rose sullenly upon the dense air and drifted out through a hole in the flat +roof. Man-of-the-Snow-Hill blinked his watery eyes as the strangers entered, and +passed his pipe to his favourite squaw, a buxom, sleepy-eyed beauty who sat upon +his right. Then he grunted intelligently as he saw the visitors deposit their +pile of presents upon the floor, and, in the manner of the neche, seat +themselves beside it.</p> + +<p>Ralph spoke his greeting in Indian fashion.</p> + +<p>“How,” he said.</p> + +<p>“How!” replied Man-of-the-Snow-Hill, in a thin, reedy voice. And +his followers echoed the sentiment in chorus.</p> + +<p>Then the aged chief held out his hand in further <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> greeting. And each neche in turn shook +the white men by the hand.</p> + +<p>The visitors filled and lighted their pipes, and passed their plugs of +tobacco to the others. Then Ralph began to speak in Cree.</p> + +<p>“We come far to speak with Man-of-the-Snow-Hill,” he began.</p> + +<p>The watery-eyed chief shook his head, grunting. The squaws laughed, and the +med’cine-men closed their eyes in sign of not understanding the tongue in which +he spoke. Then a young chief harangued his comrades. He could understand the +tongue and would interpret. The old chief nodded approval and continued to gaze +greedily at the presents.</p> + +<p>Now the conversation proceeded quite smoothly.</p> + +<p>“We wish to speak with the great Man-of-the-Snow-Hill in +private,” Ralph said. “We have much to say, and many +presents.”</p> + +<p>The chief blinked with satisfaction, and grunted appreciation. His lined face +lit up. He waved one shaking arm and his followers reluctantly departed. All +except the interpreter and the chief squaw.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph went on. Nick had care of the presents, and on him the cunning old +chief kept his eyes. He opened a large bag of beads and emptied some on a spread +of cheap print. The squaw’s eyes smiled greedily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span>“We wish the +great chief well,” said Ralph, using all the flowery embellishments of the +Cree tongue, “and we would live in peace. We have tobacco, beads, skins, +prints, and blankets. And we would lay them all at the feet of the great man, +the mighty hunter, if he would help us to find that which we seek.”</p> + +<p>Ralph signed to his brother and Nick laid out an array of presents and passed +them with due solemnity to the old man.</p> + +<p>“Ow-ow!” grunted Man-of-the-Snow-Hill, as he waved the things +away to his squaw. He was not satisfied, and his eyes watered as though he were +weeping.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph went on.</p> + +<p>“We have come on the ‘long trail’ through the mountains. And we +seek the White Squaw of the Moosefoot Indians.”</p> + +<p>The chief remained quite calm, but his bleared old eyes shot a sidelong gleam +at the speaker in which there was little friendliness. No other movement was +allowed to give evidence of disquiet. It is part of the upbringing of the neche +to eschew all outward signs of emotion. The Sun Dance, when the braves are made, +is the necessary education in this direction. Ralph saw the look but failed to +take its meaning. The squaw watched the white men <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> with keen interest. Nick was groping +about in the depths of a gunny-sack.</p> + +<p>Ralph plunged into the fantastic story which he and Nick had prepared. The +language of the Cree helped him, for the natural colouring of the Indian tongues +is as flowery as that of any Eastern race.</p> + +<p>“We come from beyond the mountains, from the hunting-grounds of forest +and river where the great fathers of the Moosefoot Indians dwelt. We come to +tell the White Squaw that the land cries out for her, and the return of the +children of the Moose. We come to speak with her of these things, for the time +has come when she must leave her forest home and return to her own land. +Man-of-the-Snow-Hill must show us the way. We have many presents which we will +give him.”</p> + +<p>“It is well,” said the great man, closing his eyes while the +water oozed from between the compressed lids. “The white men are the +friends of the Moosefoot people, and they have many presents. Have they +fire-water?”</p> + +<p>Nick produced some bottles and the great man reached for them greedily. But +the other withheld them.</p> + +<p>“What will Man-of-the-Snow-Hill do for the fire-water?” Ralph +asked.</p> + +<p>The interpreter passed the word.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>“He will +send his favourite squaw to guide the white men,” he answered at once. +“He can do no more.”</p> + +<p>A dozen bottles of vanilla essence passed over to the chief. A number of +other presents were handed to him. Then without a word the squaw arose and +accompanied the white men out.</p> + +<p>And without further delay the brothers continued their journey. Fleet of +foot, untiring, silent as only an Indian woman can be, the squaw led the way. +North, north; always north they travelled, over hill, through forest and deep +white valley, without let-up to their eager speed. The superstitious dread which +had hitherto so afflicted the white men now fell away from them. Night came on +swift and silent, and camp was pitched on the edge of a dense forest.</p> + +<p>Ere the daylight had quite died out the squaw took the two men to the crest +of a hill. She looked out across the virgin carpet of towering pines below them +and pointed with one blanket-covered arm outstretched. She was silent while she +indicated several points in the vast panorama before her. Then she tried to tell +them something.</p> + +<p>But her language was the language of her tribe, and neither of the men could +understand her. Then she spoke in the language of signs, which all Indians speak +so well.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span>She raised her +hand, pointing eastward, till it reached a point directly overhead. Then she +pointed to her feet, and her hand moved slowly in a northern direction, after +which she made a running movement with her feet. Then she bent her body and +appeared to be gazing about her, searching. Finally she pointed to two very +large trees which stood out apart from their fellows. Then again came the motion +of running, which finished quickly, and she pointed first to Nick’s face +and then to herself. After that she stood motionless, with arms folded over her +bosom. And the two men read her meaning.</p> + +<p>At daylight they were to start out northward and travel until midday. Then +they were to halt and search the outskirts of the forest until they found two +mammoth trees standing apart. The space between them was the mouth of a pathway +into the heart of the forest. They were to traverse this path a short distance, +and they would discover the White Squaw.</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded his head slowly in token of comprehension. He waited to see if +she had aught further to say. But the woman remained standing where she was, +slightly aloof and with her arms folded. Her sleepy eyes were watching the last +dying gleam of daylight away in the west. Suddenly, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> out upon the still air, came a doleful +cry. It was long-drawn-out and mournful, but it travelled as mountain cries will +travel. It came waving upon the air with a certain rise and fall in it like the +rippling of water. It rose up, up, and then lingeringly died out. The men +listened, and looked in the direction whence it came, and, as they looked, a +feeling of awe swept over them. In a rush the old “dread” awoke, and +their gaze was filled with the expression of it.</p> + +<p>Out to the west the forest lay gloomy, brooding; and within a few hundred +yards of them stood the mighty sentry trees which the squaw had pointed out. But +now between them, breaking up the dead white carpet which covered the earth, the +tall form of the Hooded Man stood silhouetted. Grim and ghostly he looked, as, +motionless, he gazed upon the watchers.</p> + +<p>With the instinct of self-defence which the wild teaches so insistently, Nick +unslung his rifle. Ere Ralph could stay him the shot rang out, echoing away over +the tree-tops. The figure had disappeared, and the unblemished carpet of snow +was as it had been before. Nick stood aghast, for he was a dead shot. Ralph +gazed helplessly at the spot where the man had stood.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Nick gasped.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>“It–it +ain’t human.”</p> + +<p>And Ralph had no answer to make.</p> + +<p>Then presently they turned to where the Moosefoot squaw had stood. She, too, +had gone; vanished as completely as had the Hooded Man. There was the trail of +her snow-shoes ruffling the snow, and the men ran following it as far as the +forest edge; but here they stood. They could follow no further. Night was upon +them. Slowly they returned to camp.</p> + +<p>The next day they continued their journey with almost fanatical persistence. +They found no sentry-trees such as the squaw had described. Forest, yes, but +where in that region could they fail to find forest? The abode of the White +Squaw was nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>That night they decided upon their next move in the quiet, terse manner of +men who cannot bring themselves to speak of the strange feelings which possess +them; who are ashamed of their own weakness, and yet must acknowledge it to +themselves.</p> + +<p>“An’ to-morrow–” said Nick, glancing apprehensively +around beyond the fire, over which they were sitting, fighting the deadly cold +of the night.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow?” echoed Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Where?” asked Nick, looking away towards the south.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>Ralph followed the +direction of his brother’s gaze.</p> + +<p>“Um.” And he nodded.</p> + +<p>“What–south?”</p> + +<p>“South.”</p> + +<p>“An’ the Wh–”</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head, and smoked on solemnly.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE WHITE SQUAW</span></h2> + +<p>Down the sharp incline Nick ran beside his dogs; Ralph was close behind. They +were home once more in their own silent valley, and were pushing on to avoid the +coming snow-storm which the leaden hue of the sky portended. So the dogs were +rushed along at a great pace, for the dugout was beyond, a full hour +distant.</p> + +<p>It had been a weary journey, that return from the quest of the White Squaw. +But the weariness had been mental. The excitement of their going had eaten up +their spirit, and left them with a feeling of distressing lassitude. They were +sobered; and, as men recovering from drunkenness, they felt ashamed, and their +tempers were uncertain.</p> + +<p>But as the string of huskies raced down into the valley they knew so well, +yelping a joyful greeting to the familiar objects about them, the men began to +feel better, and less like those who are detected in unworthy actions.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>The dogs emerged +upon their original outward-bound trail and pursued it along the edge of the +forest. They needed no urging, and even set a pace which taxed all their +masters’ speed. The sight of the familiar scenes had banished the +“Dread of the Wild” from the minds of the two men, and their spirits +rose as they approached the frost-bound river below their home. There were no +stealing glances into the gloomy shelter of the woods, no nervous backward turns +of the head. They looked steadily ahead for the glad sight of their home; and +the snap of the crisp snow under the heavy-footed dogs, and the eager, steady +pull on the traces brought a cheerful light to their eyes such as had not been +there for days.</p> + +<p>But although they had failed to discover the White Squaw, she was by no means +forgotten. A certain sense of relief had followed their first moments of keen +disappointment, but it was only a revulsion of their strained nerves; thoughts +of her which were, perhaps, less fiery and reckless, but consequently more +enduring, still possessed them.</p> + +<p>Ralph was especially calm. He had thought the whole thing over in his +deliberate fashion, and, finally, admitted to himself that what had happened was +for the best. Nick was less easy. His disappointment had slightly soured an +already hasty, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> but +otherwise kindly, disposition. He needed something of his brother’s calm +to balance him. But, however, in both cases, somewhere deep down in their hearts +the fateful flame so strangely kindled was still burning; a deep, strong, +unquenchable fire.</p> + +<p>They were almost home. Before them lay the frozen waterway. Beyond that, and +above, rose the hill, on the face of which stood their shack; and about them was +the brooding silence, still and portentous, but familiar.</p> + +<p>The lead-dog plunged down the bank and the rest followed, whilst Ralph and +Nick steadied the laden sled. The brief passage was made, and Nick’s whip +drove the fierce, willing beasts at the ascent beyond. Then, ere the sled had +left the river, and while the dogs still struggled in their harness to lift its +nose over what was almost a cut-bank, and when Nick’s attention was most +needed, the whip suddenly became idle, and his stock of driving-curses changed +to a shout of alarmed surprise.</p> + +<p>Down he dropped upon his knees; and, with head bent low, examined the +disturbed surface of the snow. In an instant Ralph was at his side. The dogs had +ceased to pull and crouched down in their traces. A strange and wonderful thing +had happened. In their absence their valley had been invaded, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> and the indications were +those of human agency.</p> + +<p>Nick pointed, and his outstretched forefinger moved slowly over a footprint +indicating the sharp, clean outline which the surface of the snow still +retained. A moccasin-covered foot had trodden there; and the mark left was +small, smaller than that of an ordinary man. And the two heads, almost touching, +bent over it in silent scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Presently Ralph raised his eyes and looked ahead. Step by step he traced the +marks on up the hill in the direction of the dugout, and, at last, silent +speculation gave place to tense, low-spoken words.</p> + +<p>“Injun moccasins,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Guess so, by the seamin’.”</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t a buck neche, neither.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>There was an impressive pause, and the silent land seemed weighted down as +with an atmosphere of gloomy presage. Nick broke it, and his voice had in it a +harsh ring. The fire of passion was once more alight in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s a squaw’s,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sure; a squaw’s,” and Ralph swallowed a deep breath +as though his surroundings stifled him.</p> + +<p>A thrill of emotion moved both men. There had <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> leapt within them, in one great, +overwhelming tide, all the old reckless craze for the shadowy creature of +Victor’s story. At the mere suggestion of a squaw’s presence in that +valley their blood-tide surged through their veins like a torrent of fire, and +their pulses were set beating like sledge-hammers. A squaw! A squaw! That was +their cry. Why not the White Squaw?</p> + +<p>Whilst Ralph gazed on ahead Nick still bent over the footprint. The delicate +shape, the deep hollow of the ball of the foot, the round cup which marked the +heel, and, between them, the narrow, shallow indentation which formed the +high-arched instep. In fancy he built over the marks the tall, lithe, +straight-limbed creature Victor had told them of. He saw the long flowing hair +which fell in a shower upon her shoulders; and the beautiful eyes blue as the +summer sky. In a moment his tanned face was transformed and became radiant.</p> + +<p>Ralph, the quiet and thoughtful, was no less moved. But he turned from his +brother, hugging his own anticipations to himself, and concealing them behind a +grim mask of impassivity. His eyes were bright with the same insistent idea, but +he told himself that the thing was impossible. He told himself that She lived in +the north, and not even the chase of the far-travelling moose could <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> have brought her hither +from her forest home. These things he said in his caution, but he did not listen +to the voice of his doubt, and his heart beat in great bounding pulsations.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Nick sprang from the ground, and short and sharp came his words.</p> + +<p>“Let’s git on.”</p> + +<p>“Ay,” replied Ralph, and he turned back to the sled.</p> + +<p>And again the dogs laid foot to the ground; and again the voice of Nick +roused the hollow echoes of the shimmering peaks; again the song of the +sled-runners rose and fell in cadence brisk and sharp on the still, cold air. +But all the world was changed to the men. The stillness was only the stillness +which appeals to the physical senses. There was a sensation of life in the air; +a feeling of living surroundings; a certain knowledge that they were no longer +alone in their valley. A woman was present; <i>the</i> woman.</p> + +<p>The widening break of the forest gave place to a broad sloping expanse of +snow-land. It was the hill down which they had travelled many thousands of +times. Above, more snow-laden forest, and above that the steel of the glacier +which rose till its awful limits plunged into the grey world of cloud. The +dugout was not yet in view; there <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_85'></a>85</span> was a scored and riven crag, black and barren, +impervious to the soft caresses of velvety snow, to be passed ere the home which +was theirs would be sighted. Besides, as yet neither of the men had turned their +eyes from the trailing footprints to look ahead. Thus they came to the higher +ground.</p> + +<p>Now the barren crag seemed to thrust itself out, an impassable barrier; a +mute protest at further progress; a grim, silent warning that the home beyond +was no longer for them, no longer the home they had always known. And the +hard-breathing dogs toiled on, straining at their breast-harness, with bodies +heaving forward, heads bent low, and quarters drooped to give them surer +purchase. They, too, as though by instinct, followed the footprints. As the +marks swung out to pass the jutting cliff the lead-dog followed their course; +Nick, on the right of them, moved wide, and craned to obtain a first view of the +hut. Suddenly he gave a great shout. The dogs dropped in their harness and +crouched, snarling and snapping, their jaws clipping together with the sound of +castanets, whilst their wiry manes rose upon their shoulders bristling with +ferocity which had in it something of fear. Ralph reached his brother’s +side and peered beyond the cliff.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span>And as he looked +his breath suddenly ceased, and one hand clutched his brother’s arm with a +force that bruised the softer flesh, and in silence the two men gaped at the +vision which they beheld. There was what seemed an endless pause while the men +and dogs alike focused their gaze upon the strange apparition.</p> + +<p>A figure, calm, serene, stood before the door of the dugout, from which the +logs had been removed. Like a sentry “at ease” the figure stood +resting gracefully, leaning upon the muzzle of a long rifle. Fur crowned the +head which was nobly poised, and a framing of flowing dark hair showed off to +perfection the marble-like whiteness of the calm, beautiful face. The robes were +characteristic of the Northern Indians; beads, buckskin and fur. A tunic reached +to the knees, and below that appeared “chaps,” which ended where +woollen stockings surmounted moosehide moccasins.</p> + +<p>A wild, picturesque figure was this creature of the mountain solitude; and, +to the wondering eyes of the two men, something which filled them with +superstitious awe and a primitive gladness that was almost overpowering. The +dogs alone seemed to resent the intrusion. There was no joy in their attitude +which was one of angry protest.</p> + +<p>Nick broke the silence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_87'></a>87</span>“White–white,” he murmured, without +knowledge that he spoke aloud.</p> + +<p>Ralph’s face was working. His excitement, slow to rise, now overwhelmed +him, and he answered in a similar tone.</p> + +<p>“That hair,” he muttered. “Dark, dark; an’ them chaps +wi’ beads of Injun patte’n. An’ the muzzle-loadin’ +weapin.”</p> + +<p>Nick took up the argument as his brother broke off.</p> + +<p>“It’s a squaw, too.”</p> + +<p>“Her eyes, he says, was blue,” Ralph murmured, breathing +hard.</p> + +<p>“An’ she was leanin’ on a gun,” Nick added +softly.</p> + +<p>“It’s–”</p> + +<p>“By Gar! It is!”</p> + +<p>Nick turned to the dogs with the wild impetuosity of a man who knows not the +meaning of patience. His fiery orders fairly hurled the brutes at their task, +and the sled leapt forward. On, on, they sped, till they halted within a few +yards of the silent figure.</p> + +<p>The woman showed no signs of fear, a matter which both men set down to the +fact that she was a queen among her own people. She still stood in the position +in which she had watched their approach. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_88'></a>88</span> There was not a quiver of the delicate eyelids, not a +tremor of the perfect mouth. Proud, haughty, and masked by the impassivity of +the Indian races, she awaited the coming of the strangers.</p> + +<p>And as men and dogs halted there was an awkwardness. How should they address +her? They consulted, and their whisperings were loud enough to reach her ears. +They did not attempt to suppress their tones unduly. This woman, they knew, did +not understand the tongue of the whites, and probably knew only the language of +the Moosefoot people. Therefore they spoke unguardedly. They admitted to each +other the woman’s identity. Ralph was for speaking to her in Cree; Nick +for the language of signs. And while they talked the woman looked on. Had they +been keenly observant they would have seen the shadow of an occasional smile +curl the corners of her beautiful lips. As it was they saw only the superb form, +and eyes so wondrously blue, shining like sapphires from an oval face framed +with waves of black hair.</p> + +<p>At last Ralph advanced toward her.</p> + +<p>“You’re welcome to our shack,” he said, in Cree.</p> + +<p>The woman shook her beautiful head, but smiled upon him; and the simple soul +felt the blood rush from heart to head.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span>“Try +signs,” said Nick impatiently. “How’s the White Squaw o’ +the Moosefoots goin’ to savvee a low-down bat like Cree. I sed so +’fore.”</p> + +<p>The blue eyes were turned on Nick with a deep inscrutable smile. Nick felt +that life at her feet was the only life possible.</p> + +<p>And Ralph resorted to signs, while Nick alternated his attention between his +idolatrous, silent worship of the lovely woman and clubbing his dogs into +quiescence. Their angry protests seemed to express something more abiding than +mere displeasure at the intrusion of a stranger. They seemed to feel a strong +instinctive antagonism toward this beautiful woman.</p> + +<p>Ralph persisted with his signs. The woman read them easily and replied in her +own sign-language, which was wonderful to behold. Ralph and Nick read it as +though they were listening to a familiar tongue.</p> + +<p>She told them that she was Aim-sa, which is the Moosefoot for +“Blue-Sky”; and that she was the White Squaw, the queen of her +people. She indicated that she was out on a “long trail” hunting, +and that she had found herself in this valley, with a snow-storm coming on. She +had seen the dugout and had sought its shelter, intending to remain there until +the storm had passed. She made <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_90'></a>90</span> it clear to them that a bull moose and four cows had +entered the valley. She had trailed them for many days. She asked the brothers +if, when the storm had passed, they would join her in the hunt.</p> + +<p>And to all she said Ralph replied in his less perfect signs, prompted by Nick +with blundering impetuosity; and, at the end of the parley, a perfect harmony +prevailed. Two great rough men, with hearts as simple and trusting as those of +infants, led this stranger into their home, and made it clear that the place was +hers for so long as she chose to accept their hospitality.</p> + +<p>A fire was kindled. A meal was cooked. The hut grew warm and comforting. The +dogs outside yelped pitifully and often snuffed angrily at the sill of the door. +And the White Squaw calmly accepted the throne of that silent world, which had +so long known only the joint rule of the two brothers. She looked out upon her +subjects with eyes which drove them wild with adoration, but which said nothing +but that which she chose to convey. Nor did her features betray one single +thought that might chance to be passing in the brain behind. She wore an +impenetrable mask of reserve while she watched the effect of the womanly power +she wielded.</p> + +<p>And that night saw a change in the ordering of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> the trappers’ household. The two +men talked it over after their meal. Ralph broached the subject.</p> + +<p>He waved his arm, the bowl of his pipe gripped in his horny hand, while its +stem indicated the entire hut.</p> + +<p>“Hers,” he said. And his eyes were dragged from the object of his +solicitude and turned upon Nick.</p> + +<p>His brother nodded as he puffed at his pipe.</p> + +<p>“The shed,” Ralph went on. “The huskies must burrow in the +snow.”</p> + +<p>Again Nick nodded.</p> + +<p>“Wants sweepin’ some,” observed Ralph again.</p> + +<p>“Yup. We’ll fix it.”</p> + +<p>“Best git to it.”</p> + +<p>“Ay.”</p> + +<p>And so the brothers moved out of their home, and went to live in the place +which had been given over to the dogs. They would have done more, far more, in +their love for the woman who had so strangely come into their midst. They felt +that it was little enough that they must lie where the dogs were wont to herd. +They needed little comfort, and she must have the best they could give. And so +the brothers moved out of their home.</p> + +<p>The snow fell that night; a silent, irresistible mountain snow-storm, without +a breath of wind, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> in +flakes as big as a tennis-ball. Down they ambled, seeming to loiter in indolent +playfulness on the way. And up, up, mounted the earth’s white carpet, +thicker and thicker, softer and softer. And at daylight the men confronted eight +feet of snow, through which they had to dig their way. They cleared the dugout +that their priceless treasure, the wondrous creature who had come to them, might +see the light of day. And as they laboured the snow continued to fall; and at +night. The next day, and the next, they cleared while the forest below was being +slowly buried, and all the world about them seemed to be choked with the gentle +horror.</p> + +<p>But Ralph and his brother, Nick, feared nothing. They loved the labour; for +was it not on behalf of the beautiful White Squaw?</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE WEIRD OF THE WILD</span></h2> + +<p>For five days the snow fell without ceasing. Then the weather cleared and the +sun shone forth, and the temperature, which had risen while the ghostly snow +filled the air, dropped with a rush many degrees below zero.</p> + +<p>Again the call of the forest came to the two men, claiming them as it ever +claims those who are bred to the craft of trap and fur; and for the first time +in their lives, the call was hearkened to by unwilling ears, ears which sought +to turn from the alluring cry, ears that craved only for the seductive tones of +love. But habit was strong upon these woodsmen, and they obeyed the voice which +had always ruled their lives, although with the skeleton of rebellion in their +hearts.</p> + +<p>The days passed, and March, the worst month of the mountain winter, was +rapidly nearing; and with it a marked change came over the routine of the +Westleys’ home. Hitherto Ralph and Nick were <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> accustomed to carry out their work +singly, each scouring the woodlands and valleys in a direction which was his +alone, each making his own bag of furs, which, in the end, would be turned over +to the partnership; but Aim-sa joined them in their hunting, and, somehow, it +came about that the men found it necessary to work together.</p> + +<p>They no longer parted at daybreak to meet again when the stealing night +shades fell. It became the custom for a party of three to set out from the hut, +and the skilled trappers found themselves willingly deferring to a woman in the +details of their craft, the craft of which they were acknowledged masters.</p> + +<p>But this was not the only change that took place with the coming of the White +Squaw. For a woman of the wild, for a woman who had been bred in the mysterious +depths of the northern forests, away from her fellow creatures, shut off from +all associations of men, Aim-sa displayed a wondrous knowledge of those arts +which women practise for the subjugation of the opposite sex. She set herself +the task of administering to her companions’ welfare in the manner which +has been woman’s from the first. She took to herself the bothersome duties +with which no man, however self-reliant, loves to be burdened. She went further. +She demanded and accepted the homage of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_95'></a>95</span> each of the brothers, not impartially, but favouring +first one and then the other, with the quiet enjoyment of a woman who looks on +at the silent rivalry of two men who seek her smiles.</p> + +<p>And as the days lengthened, and the winter crept on toward spring, the peace +of the house was slowly but surely undermined. Eve had appeared in the +Garden.</p> + +<p>The calm that still remained was as the smooth surface of water about to +boil. Beneath it was chaos which must soon break out into visible tumult. The +canker of jealousy fastened itself like a secret growth upon the uncultured +hearts of the men, sapping and undermining that which was best in their +natures.</p> + +<p>And Aim-sa looked on with eyes which smiled inscrutably; with silent tongue, +and brain ever busy. In due course she showed signs of beginning to understand +her comrades’ language. She even essayed to speak it herself; and, as she +stumbled prettily over the words, and placed them wrongly, she became more and +more a source of delight, an object of adoration to the poor souls who had been +so suddenly born to this new life. With keen appreciation she saw these things +while she listened to their speech between themselves, and her great, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> deep eyes would wear many +varying expressions, chief among which was the dark, abiding smile.</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt that what she saw she interpreted aright. She was too +clever in everything else to do otherwise. Nick, impatient, headstrong, could +never long conceal his feelings. His eyes would express displeasure the moment +the quieter Ralph chanced to monopolize Aim-sa’s attention. Every smile +she bestowed upon the elder brother brought a frown to the younger man’s +brow. Every act or look which could be interpreted into an expression of regard +for his brother fired his soul with feelings of aversion and anger till he was +well-nigh distracted. Nor was Ralph any less disturbed. In his undemonstrative +way he watched Nick, and suffered the acutest pangs of jealousy at what he +believed was Aim-sa’s marked preference. But the woman continued to stir +the fire she had kindled with a childlike naiveté which was less of the wild +than of the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>And as day succeeded day, and week followed week, the companionship of these +men became forced. The old tacit understanding was replaced by a feverish desire +to talk; and this forced conversation only helped to widen the rift which was +already gaping between them.</p> + +<p>One night the friction almost resulted in a blaze.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>Ralph was lying +prone upon his back, buried to the neck in his “Arctic bag.” He was +smoking, as was his custom, while waiting for sleep to come. An oil lamp reeked +upon the earthen floor and threw its bilious rays little further than the +blankets spread out upon either side of it. For a long time Ralph had lain +silently gazing up at the frosted rafters above him, while his brother sat +cross-legged at work restringing his snow-shoes with strands of rawhide. +Suddenly Ralph turned his face towards him in silent contemplation. He watched +Nick’s heavy hands with eyes that wore a troubled look. Then he abruptly +broke the long silence.</p> + +<p>“Victor don’t know as she’s here,” he said.</p> + +<p>Nick looked up, glanced round the room, shook his head, and bent over his +work again.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered shortly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe he won’t jest laff.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Again came Nick’s monosyllabic reply.</p> + +<p>“Guess we’d best let him know.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Ralph waited for his brother to speak. As no answer came +he went on.</p> + +<p>“Who’s goin’ to tell him?”</p> + +<p>Still there was no reply. The silence was broken only by the +“ping” of the rawhide strands which Nick tested as he drew +tight.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span>“We need +some fixin’s fer her,” Ralph went on, a moment later. “Wimmin, +I ’lows, has fancies. Now, maybe, Victor’s got a mighty fine show o’ +print stuffs. A bit o’ Turkey red wouldn’t come amiss, I dessay. +Likewise beads.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you take the dogs an’ run in?”</p> + +<p>Nick’s hands suddenly became motionless; his eyes were raised until +they looked into the face of his brother. His seared, weather-beaten skin +flushed a desperate hue, and his eyes were alight and shining angrily. His lips +twitched with the force of the passion stirring within him, and for some seconds +he held himself not daring to trust to speech.</p> + +<p>When at last he answered it was in a tone of fiery abruptness.</p> + +<p>“Guess not,” he said. And it was Ralph’s turn to hold back +the anger which rose within him.</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Say, brother,” said Nick, with a biting distinctness, +“quit right there. Ther’ ain’t no need fer another +word.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Ralph peered into the other’s face; but he remained +silent. Then he turned over upon his pillow with a sound very like a muttered +curse. And from that moment the gulf between <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_99'></a>99</span> them became impassable. Aim-sa was a subject +henceforth tabooed from their conversation. Each watched the other with +distrust, and even hatred, full grown within him.</p> + +<p>And soon there came a further disturbing element in that mountain home. It +awoke all the dormant atmosphere of mystery, which, in the minds of the two men, +surrounded the lovely Aim-sa. It awoke afresh the “Dread of the +Wild” that had assailed them on their journey north.</p> + +<p>It came in the early morning, when the world about them was cloaked in the +grey shroud of daylight mists; when the silent forests above and below them were +rendered even more ghostly and sepulchral by reason of the heavy vapour which +depressed all on which it settled. Nick was standing, rifle in hand, preparing +to sling it across his back. Ralph was stooping to adjust his snow-shoes. Aim-sa +had been left within the hut.</p> + +<p>A gentle breeze, like the icy breath of some frozen giant on the peak above +the hut, came lazily down the hillside. It broke the fog into a turmoil of +protest. The heavy vapour rolled in huge waves, sought to return to its settled +calm, then slowly lifted from the flustered tree-tops. Another breath, a little +stronger than the first, shot forcefully into the heart of the morning fog and +scattered it mercilessly. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_100'></a>100</span> Then the whole grey expanse solemnly lifted. Up it +rose; nor did it pause until the lower hills were bared, and the wintry sun +shone splendidly down upon the crystal earth.</p> + +<p>And as the air cleared the keen eyes of Nick flashed out in a swift survey of +the prospect. Suddenly his breathing was sharply indrawn. His rifle never +reached his shoulder, but remained gripped in his hand. His eyes had become +riveted upon a low hill far out across the valley. It looked as though it rose +sheer out of the forest below, but the watching man knew full well that it was +only a spur of the giant that backed it. It was the summit of this clear-cut +hill, and what was visible upon it, that held his fascinated attention. Suddenly +a half-whispered word escaped him and Ralph was beside him in a moment.</p> + +<p>“Look!” And Nick’s arm was outstretched pointing.</p> + +<p>And Ralph looked in time to see the ghostly form of the Hooded Man as it +slowly passed from view over the hill.</p> + +<p>“The Hood!” exclaimed Ralph, in awestruck tones.</p> + +<p>“Ay.”</p> + +<p>“What’s–what’s he doin’ here?” Ralph +asked, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> more of +himself than of his brother. Then he added: “He’s on our +trail.”</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause.</p> + +<p>“It’s somethin’ on her account,” Nick said, at last, +with uneasy conviction.</p> + +<p>As if actuated by a common thought, both turned and looked back at the hut. +Nor was their uneasiness lessened when they beheld Aim-sa standing directly +behind them, gazing out across the woodland hollow with eyes distended with a +great fear. So absorbed was she that she did not observe the men’s +scrutiny, and only was her attention drawn to them when she heard Nick’s +voice addressing her. Then her lids drooped in confusion and she hastily turned +back to the house. But Nick was not to be denied.</p> + +<p>“Ye’ve seen him,” he said sharply; “him wi’ the +hood?” And he made a motion with his hand which described the +stranger’s headgear.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa nodded, and Nick went on.</p> + +<p>“We seen him up north. On the trail to the Moosefoot.”</p> + +<p>The woman again nodded. She quite understood now, and her eyes brightened +suddenly as she turned their dazzling depths of blue upon her questioner. She +understood these men as they little thought she understood them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span>“It is the +Spirit–the Great Spirit,” she said, in her broken speech. “The +Spirit of–Moosefoot Indian. Him watches Aim-sa–Queen of Moosefoot. +She–White Squaw.”</p> + +<p>Ralph turned away uneasily. These mysterious allusions troubled him. Nick +could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. Her strange eyes held him captive.</p> + +<p>They took her words without a doubt. They accepted all she said without +question. They never doubted her identity with the White Squaw. Primitive +superstition deeply moved them.</p> + +<p>“You was scared when you see him just now?” said Ralph, +questioningly.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa nodded.</p> + +<p>“He come to–take me,” she said, halting over the words. +“The Moosefoot–they angry–Aim-sa stay away.”</p> + +<p>“Hah!”</p> + +<p>Nick thrust his rifle out towards her.</p> + +<p>“Here take it. It shoots good. When ‘The Hood’ comes, +shoot–savvee?”</p> + +<p>Aim-sa took the gun and turned back to the hut. And the men passed out into +the forest.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa left the hut soon after the brothers had departed. For long she stood +just beyond the door as though not sure of what she contemplated doing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>And as she stood +her eyes travelled acutely over the silent valley. At last, however, she moved +leisurely down the hill. Her easy gait lasted just so long as she was in the +open; the moment she entered the forest her indifference vanished and she raced +along in the dark shadow with all the speed she could summon. The silence, the +heavy, depressing atmosphere, the labyrinth of trees so dark and confusing; +these things were no deterrent to her. Her object was distinct in her mind and +she gave heed to nothing else. She ran on over the snow with the silent +movements of some ghostly spirit, and with a swiftness which told of the Indian +blood in her veins. Her dilating eyes flashed about her with the searching gaze +of one who expects to see something appear, while not knowing whence it will +come. Her flowing hair trailed from under her cap with the speed of her going, +and the biting air stung her face into a brilliant glow. Her direction was +plainly in her mind, for, though dodging her way through trees, she never +deviated from a certain course; all her thoughts, all her attention, were +centred upon the object of her quest.</p> + +<p>Nor did she pause till she came to the low hill which stood on the far side +of the valley. As she came to the edge of the forest which skirted its <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> base she drew up and +stood for a moment hesitating. Once she raised a hand to her mouth as though +about to give voice to a prolonged mountain call, but she desisted, and, +instead, set out to round the hill, always keeping to the shadow of the forest +edge.</p> + +<p>At length she stopped. Her hand went up to her mouth and her head was thrown +back, and out upon the still air rang a cry so mournful that even the forest +gloom was rendered more cheerless by its sound. High it rose, soaring upwards +through the trees until the valley rang with its plaintive wail. As if +recognizing the distressful howl of their kind, the cry came back to her from +the deep-toned throats of prowling timber-wolves. The chorus rang in her ears +from many directions as she listened, but the sound? had little effect. As they +died down she still waited in an attitude of attention.</p> + +<p>The moments slipped by. Presently she again sent the call hurtling through +the trees. Again came the chorus; again she waited. And the sounds of the chorus +were nearer at hand, and a crackling of undergrowth warned her of the presence +of the savage creatures she had summoned. The deep blue eyes were alert and +watchful, but she showed no signs of fear; nor did she move. Suddenly a less +stealthy and more certain crackling <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_105'></a>105</span> of the bush made itself heard; and the roving eyes +became fixed in one direction. Beneath the shadow of the laden boughs a tall +grey figure appeared moving towards her. But this was not all, for several +slinking, stealing forms were moving about amongst the barren tree-trunks; +hungry-looking creatures these, with fierce burning eyes and small pricked ears, +with ribs almost bursting through the coarse hides which covered their low, lank +bodies.</p> + +<p>But all the woman’s attention was centred upon the form of the +other–the hooded figure she had seen in the morning. He came with long, +regular strides, a figure truly calculated to inspire awe. Even now, near as he +was to her, there was no sign of his face to be seen. He was clad in the folds +of grey wolfskin, and a cowl-like hood utterly concealed his face, while leaving +him free to see from within.</p> + +<p>As the man came up Aim-sa plunged into voluble speech.</p> + +<p>They talked together long and earnestly; their tones were of dictation on the +part of the woman and subservience on the part of the man. Then the Spirit of +the Moosefoot Indians moved away, and the White Squaw retraced her steps to the +dugout.</p> + +<p>A look of triumph was in Aim-sa’s blue eyes as <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> she returned through the forest. She +gave no heed to the slinking forms that dogged her steps. She saw nothing of the +forest about her; all her interest was in the dugout and those who lived +there.</p> + +<p>When she came to the house she received a shock. Nick had returned during her +absence. He had come for the dog sled, and had since brought the vast carcass of +a grizzly into camp. Now he was stripping the rich fur from the forest +king’s body. The five huskies, with shivering bodies and jowls dripping +saliva, were squatting around upon their haunches waiting for the meal they +hoped would soon be theirs.</p> + +<p>The man, still kneeling over his prize, greeted Aim-sa without pausing in his +work.</p> + +<p>“Wher’?” he asked, sparing his words lest he should confuse +her.</p> + +<p>The unconcern of the query reassured her.</p> + +<p>“The forest,” replied Aim-sa easily, pointing away down the +hill.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause while the woodsman plied his knife with rough but +perfect skill. The thick fur rolled under his hands. The snick, snick of his +knife alternated with the sound of tearing as he pulled the pelt from the +under-flesh. Aim-sa watched, interested, then, as Nick made no further <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> remark, she went on. She +pointed back at the forest.</p> + +<p>“The wolves–they very thick. Many, many–an’ +hungry.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve left the open. Guess it’s goin’ to storm, +sure,” observed the man indifferently. He wrenched the fur loose from the +fore paws.</p> + +<p>“Yes–it storm–sure.” And Aim-sa gazed critically up +at the sky. The usual storm sentries hung glittering upon either side of the +sun, and the blue vault was particularly steely.</p> + +<p>Nick rose from his gory task. He drew the fur away and spread it out on the +roof of the dugout to freeze. Then he cut some fresh meat from the carcass, and +afterwards dragged the remainder down the hill and left it for the dogs. The +squabble began as soon as he returned to Aim-sa. A babel of fierce snarling and +yapping proceeded as the ruthless beasts tore at the still warm flesh. And in +less than a minute other voices came up from the woods, heralding the approach +of some of the famished forest creatures. Nick gave no heed. The dogs must +defend their own. Such is the law of the wild. He had Aim-sa to himself, and he +knew not how long it would be before his brother returned.</p> + +<p>And Aim-sa was in no way loth to linger by this <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> great trapper’s side. It pleased +her to talk in her halting fashion to him. He had more to say than his brother; +he was a grand specimen of manhood. Besides, his temperament was wilder, more +fierce, more like the world in which he lived.</p> + +<p>She hearkened to the sounds of the snarling wolves and her blue eyes darkened +with the latent savagery that was in her nature.</p> + +<p>“The dogs–they fight. Hah!” she said. And a smile of +delight was in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Let ’em fight,” said Nick, carelessly. Then he turned upon +her with a look there was no mistaking. His whole attitude was expressive of +passionate earnestness as he looked down into the blue worlds which confronted +him.</p> + +<p>She taunted him with a glance of intense meaning. And, in an instant, the +fire in his soul blazed into an overwhelming conflagration.</p> + +<p>“You’re that beautiful, Aim-sa,” he cried. Then he paused +as though his feelings choked him. “Them blue eyes o’ yours goes +right clear through me, I guess. Makes me mad. By Gar! you’re the finest +crittur in the world.”</p> + +<p>He looked as though he would devour the fair form which had raised such a +storm within his simple heart. She returned his look with a fearlessness which +still had some power to check his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_109'></a>109</span> untutored passion. Her smile, too, was not wholly +devoid of derision; but that was lost upon him.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa–beautiful. Ah! yes–yes, I know. You speak love to +me. You speak love to White Squaw.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, love,” cried Nick, the blood mounting with a rush to his +strong face. “Guess you don’t know love, my girl. Not yet. But mebbe +you will. Say, Aim-sa, I’ll teach it ye. I’ll teach it ye real well, +gal. You’ll be my squaw, an’ we’ll light right out o’ +here. I’ve got half share in our pile, an’ it ain’t a little. +Jest say right here as ye’ll do it, an’ I’ll fix things, +an’ hitch up the dogs.”</p> + +<p>Nick paused in his eloquence. The squaw’s eyes danced with delight, and +he read the look to suit himself. Already he anticipated a favourable answer. +But he was quickly undeceived. Aim-sa merely revelled in the passion she had +aroused, like a mischievous child with a forbidden plaything. She enjoyed it for +a moment, then her face suddenly became grave, and her eyelids drooped over the +wonderful eyes which he thought had told him so much. And her answer came with a +shake of the head.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa loves not. She must not. The Moosefoot–she is +Queen.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>“Curses on +the Moosefoot, I say,” cried Nick, with passionate impulse.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa put up her hand.</p> + +<p>“The man–‘The Hood.’ Fear the Spirit.”</p> + +<p>A chill shot down through Nick’s heart as he listened. But his passion +was only checked for the moment. The next and he seized the woman in his +powerful arms and drew her to his breast, and kissed her not too unwilling lips. +The kiss maddened him, and he held her tight, while he sought her blindly, +madly. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her eyes, her lips, and the touch of her +warm flesh scorched his very soul. Nor is it possible to say how long he would +have held her had she not, by a subtle, writhing movement, slipped from within +his enfolding arms. Her keen ears had caught a sound which did not come from the +fighting dogs. It was the penetrating forest cry in the brooding mountain +calm.</p> + +<p>“Remember–‘The Hood,’” Aim-sa warned him. And the +next moment had vanished within the dugout.</p> + +<p>Now Nick knew that he too had heard the cry, and he stood listening, while +his passion surged through his veins and his heart beat in mighty pulsations. As +he gazed over the forest waste, he expected to see the mysterious hooded +figure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span>But what he +beheld brought an angry flush to his cheeks. He did not see “The +Hood,” but Ralph walking slowly up the hill.</p> + +<p>And a harsh laugh which had no mirth in it broke from him. Then a frown +settled darkly upon his brow. What, he asked himself, had Ralph returned for? He +bore no burden of skins.</p> + +<p>And when Ralph looked up and saw Nick whom he believed to be miles away, his +heart grew bitter within him. He read the look on the other’s face. He saw +the anger, and a certain guiltiness of his own purpose made him interpret it +aright. And in a flash he resolved upon a scheme which, but for what he saw, +would never have presented itself to him.</p> + +<p>And as the gleaming sun-dogs, drooping so heavily yet angrily in the sky, +heralded the coming storm of elements, so did that meeting of the two brothers +threaten the peace of the valley.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><span class='h2fs'>IN THE STORMING NIGHT</span></h2> + +<p>The love of these men for the fair creature of the wild had risen to +fever-heat with the abruptness of tropical sunshine. It was no passing +infatuation, but the deep-rooted, absorbing passion of strong simple men; a +passion which dominated their every act and thought; a passion which years alone +might mellow into calm affection, but which nothing could eradicate. It had come +into their lives at a time when every faculty was at its ripest; henceforth +everything would be changed. The wild, to them, was no longer the wild they had +known; it was no longer theirs alone. Their life had gathered to itself a fresh +meaning; a meaning drawn from association with Woman, and from which it could +never return to the colourless existence of its original solitude.</p> + +<p>With the return of Ralph to the camp the day progressed in sullen silence. +Neither of the men would give way an inch; neither would return to <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> the forest to complete +his day’s work, and even Aim-sa found their morose antagonism something to +be feared. Each watched the other until it seemed impossible for the day to pass +without the breaking of the gathering storm. But, however, the time wore on, and +the long night closed down without anything happening to precipitate +matters.</p> + +<p>The evening was passed in the woman’s company. Ralph sat silent, +brooding. While Nick, with the memory of the wild moments during which he had +held Aim-sa in his embrace fresh upon him, held a laboured conversation with +her. To him there was a sense of triumph as he sat smoking his blackened pipe, +listening to the halting phrases of the woman, and gazing deeply into her +wonderful blue eyes. And in the ecstasy of recollection he forgot Ralph and all +but his love. There was no generosity in his heart; he had given himself up to +the delights of his passion. He claimed the fair Aim-sa to himself, and was +ready to uphold his claim so long as he had life.</p> + +<p>All that long evening he heeded nothing of the dark expression of +Ralph’s face. The furtive glances from his brother’s eyes were lost +upon him, and even had he seen them their meaning would have had no terrors for +him. With all the blind selfishness of a first love he centred his faculties +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> upon obtaining +Aim-sa’s regard, and lived in the fool’s paradise of a reckless +lover.</p> + +<p>And all the time Ralph watched, and planned. The bitterness of his heart ate +into the uttermost part of his vitals, the canker mounted even to his brain. The +deep fire of hatred was now blazing furiously, and each moment it gathered +destructive force. All that was good in the man was slowly devoured, and only a +shell of fierce anger remained.</p> + +<p>But what Nick failed to observe Aim-sa saw as plainly as only a woman can see +such things. Her bright eyes saw the fire she had kindled, and from sheer +wantonness she fanned the flame with all the art of which she was mistress.</p> + +<p>Slowly the hours passed. It was Nick who at last rose and gave the signal for +departure. It was an unwritten law between these two that when one left +Aim-sa’s presence they both left it. Therefore Ralph followed suit, and +they retired to their sleeping-apartment.</p> + +<p>Outside the night was fine, but the threat of storm hung heavily in the air. +The temperature had risen, a sure indication of the coming blizzard. Ralph was +the last to leave the woman’s presence, and, ere he closed the door, he +looked back at the smiling face, so beautiful to him, so seductively fair in his +eyes; and the memory of the picture he <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_115'></a>115</span> looked upon remained with him. He saw the dull-lit +interior, with its rough woodsman’s belongings; the plastered walls of +logs, coarse and discoloured; the various utensils hanging suspended from +five-inch spikes driven in the black veins of timber; the blazing stove and +crooked stovepipe; the box of tin dishes and pots; the sides of bacon hanging +from the roof; the pile of sacks containing biscuit and dried fish, the latter +for the dogs; the outspread blankets which formed the woman’s bed; and in +the midst of it all the dazzling presence of Aim-sa, fair as the twilight of a +summer evening.</p> + +<p>The door closed softly, and as it closed Aim-sa rose from her blankets. Her +expression had changed, and while the men went to their humble couches she moved +about with feverish haste, attentive to the least sound, but always hurried, and +with a look of deep anxiety in her alert eyes.</p> + +<p>No word was spoken as the men rolled into their blankets. The thick wall shut +out all sound from within the hut. The night was intensely still and silent. Not +even was there a single wolf-howl to awaken the echoes of the towering hills. It +was as though all nature was at rest.</p> + +<p>Nick was soon asleep. Not even the agitation of mind caused by a first love +could keep him long awake when the hour for sleep came around. With <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> Ralph it was different. +His nature was intenser. His disposition was capable of greater disturbance than +was that of the more impetuous Nick. He remained awake; awake and alert. He +smoked in the darkness more from habit than enjoyment. Although he could see +nothing his eyes constantly wandered in the direction of the man beside him, and +he listened for the heavy breathing which should tell him of the slumber which +would endure till the first streak of dawn shot athwart the sky. Soon it came; +and Nick snored heavily.</p> + +<p>Then, without sound, Ralph sat up in his blankets. He bent his head towards +the sleeper, and, satisfied, rose softly to his feet. Opening the door he looked +out. All was profoundly quiet and black. Not a star shone in the sky, nor was +there a sign of the dancing northern lights. And while he stood he heard for the +first time that night the cry of some distant forest creature; but the +timber-wolves kept silent in the depths below the hut. He drew the door to +behind him and moved out into the night.</p> + +<p>Cold as it was he was consumed by a perfect fever of agitation. His thoughts +were in a state of chaos, but the one dominant note which rang out with +clarion-like distinctness was that which drew him towards Aim-sa’s door. +And thither he stole softly, silently, with the tiptoeing of a thief, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> and with the nervous +quakings of a wrong-doer. His face was wrought with fear, with hope, with the +eagerness of expectancy.</p> + +<p>He passed from the deeper shadows in which the lean-to was bathed, and stood +at the angle of the house. He paused, and a flurrying of the snow at his feet +warned him that he had stepped close to the burrow of one of Nick’s +huskies. He moved quickly aside, and the movement brought him beyond the angle. +Then he stood stock-still, held motionless as he saw that the door of the dugout +was open and the light of the oil-lamp within was illuminating the beaten snow +which fronted the house. He held his breath. Again and again he asked himself +the meaning of the strange phenomenon.</p> + +<p>From where he stood he could see only the light; the doorway was hidden by +the storm-porch. But, as he strained his eyes in the direction and craned +forward, he became aware of a shadow on the snow where the lamp threw its dull +rays. Slowly he scanned the outline of it, and his mind was moved by +speculation. The shadow was uncertain, and only that which was nearest the door +was recognizable. Here there was no mistake; some one was standing in the +opening, and that some one could only be Aim-sa.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span>He was filled +with excitement and his heart beat tumultuously; a frenzy of delight seized upon +him, and he stepped forward swiftly. A moment later he stood confronting +her.</p> + +<p>Just for one moment Aim-sa’s face took on a look of dismay, but it +passed before Ralph had time to read it. Then she smiled a glad welcome up at +the keen eyes which peered down into her own, and her voice broke the silence in +a gentle, suppressed tone.</p> + +<p>“Quiet–quiet. The night. The storm is near. Aim-sa +watches.”</p> + +<p>Ralph turned his face out upon the blackness of the valley, following the +direction of the woman’s gaze.</p> + +<p>“Ay, storm,” he said mechanically, and his heart pounded within +his breast, and his breath came and went heavily. Then, in the pause which +followed, he started and looked towards the lean-to as a sound came from that +direction. He was half-fearful of his sleeping brother.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa’s eyes turned towards the rugged features before her, and her +gaze was of an intensity such as Ralph could not support in silence. Words +blundered unbidden to his lips, uncontrolled, and he spoke as a man who scarce +knows what he is saying. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_119'></a>119</span> His mind was in the throes of a fever, and his +speech partook of the irrelevance of delirium.</p> + +<p>“You must live with me,” he said, his brows frowning with the +intensity of his passion. “You must be my wife. The white man takes a +squaw, an’ he calls her ‘wife,’ savvee? Guess he ain’t like +the Injuns that has many squaws. He jest takes one. You’ll be my squaw, +an’ we’ll go away from here.”</p> + +<p>A smile was in the woman’s blue eyes, for her memory went back to the +words Nick had spoken to her that morning.</p> + +<p>Ralph went on.</p> + +<p>“Guess I love you that bad as makes me crazy. Ther’ ain’t +nothin’ to life wi’out you.” His eyes lowered to the ground; then +they looked beyond her, and he gazed upon the disordered condition of the room +without observing it. “Nick don’t need me here. He can have the +shack an’ everything, ’cep’ my haf share o’ the money. Guess +we’ll trail north an’ pitch our camp on the Peace River. What +say?”</p> + +<p>Aim-sa’s eyes were still smiling. Every word Nick had spoken was vivid +in her memory. She looked as though she would laugh aloud, but she held herself +in check, and the man took her smile for one of acquiescence and became bolder. +He <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> stretched out +his hand and caught hers in his shaking grasp.</p> + +<p>“The white man loves–Aim-sa,” the woman said, softly, while +she yielded her two hands to him.</p> + +<p>“Love? Ay, love. Say, ther’ ain’t nothin’ in the +world so beautiful as you, Aim-sa, an’ that’s a fac’. I +ain’t never seen nothin’ o’ wimmin before, ’cep’ my +mother, but I guess now I’ve got you I can’t do wi’out you, +you’re that soft an’ pictur’-like. Ye’ve jest got to say +right here that you’re my squaw, an’ everything I’ve got is +yours, on’y they things I leave behind to Nick.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” sighed the woman, “Nick–poor Nick. He +loves–Aim-sa, too. Nick is great man.”</p> + +<p>“Nick loves you? Did he get tellin’ ye so?”</p> + +<p>There was a wild, passionate ring in Ralph’s question.</p> + +<p>The squaw nodded, and the man’s expression suddenly changed. The +passionate look merged into one of fiery anger, and his eyes burned with a low, +dark fire. Aim-sa saw the sudden change, but she still smiled in her soft +way.</p> + +<p>“An’ you?”</p> + +<p>The voice of the man was choking with suppressed passion. His whole body +trembled with the chaos of feeling which moved him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>The woman shook +her head.</p> + +<p>“An’ what did ye say?” he went on, as she remained +silent.</p> + +<p>“Nick is great. No, Aim-sa not loves Nick.”</p> + +<p>Ralph sighed with relief, and again the fiery blood swept through his veins. +He stepped up close to her and she remained quite still. The blue eyes were +raised to his face and Aim-sa’s lips parted in a smile. The effect was +instantaneous. Ralph seized her in a forceful embrace, and held her to him +whilst he gasped out the passionate torrent of his love amidst an avalanche of +kisses. And they stood thus for long, until the man calmed and spoke with more +practical meaning.</p> + +<p>“An’ we go together?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa nodded.</p> + +<p>“Now?”</p> + +<p>The woman shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No–sunrise. I wait here.”</p> + +<p>Again they stood; he clasping her unresisting form, while the touch of her +flowing hair intoxicated him, and the gentle rise and fall of her bosom drove +all thought wild within him.</p> + +<p>They stood for many minutes; till at last the still night was stirred by the +rustling herald of the coming storm. The long-drawn-out sigh of the wind, so +sad, so weird in the darkness of night <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_122'></a>122</span> would have passed unheeded by the man, but Aim-sa +was alert, and she freed herself from his embrace.</p> + +<p>“At sunrise,” she said. “Now–sleep.” And she +made a sign as of laying her head upon a pillow.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood irresolute. Suddenly Aim-sa started. Her whole bearing changed. A +swift, startled gaze shot from beneath her long, curling lashes in the direction +of the distant hills. A tiny glimmer of light had caught her attention and she +stepped back on the instant and passed into the hut, closing the door softly but +quickly behind her. And when she had disappeared Ralph stood as one dazed.</p> + +<p>The significance of Aim-sa’s abrupt departure was lost upon him. For +him there was nothing unusual in her movements. She had been there, he had held +her in his arms, he had kissed her soft lips. He had tasted of love, and the mad +passion had upset his thoughtful nature. His mind and his feelings were in a +whirl and he thrilled with a delicious joy. His thoughts were so vivid that all +sense of that which was about him, all caution, was obscured by them. At that +moment there was but one thing that mattered to him,–Aim-sa’s love. +All else was as nothing.</p> + +<p>So it came that the faint light on the distant <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> hills burned steadily; and he saw it +not. So it came that a shadowy figure moved about at the forest edge below him; +and he saw it not. So it came that the light breath from the mountain-top was +repeated only more fiercely; and he heeded it not. In those moments he was +living within himself; his thoughts were his world, and those thoughts were of +the woman he had kissed and held in his arms.</p> + +<p>Nothing gave him warning of the things which were doing about him. He saw no +tribulation in the sea upon which he had embarked. He loved; that was all he +knew. Presently like a sleep-walker he turned and moved around towards the +deeper shadow of the lean-to. Then, when he neared the door of the shed in which +his brother was, he seemed to partially awake to his surroundings. He knew that +he must regain his bed without disturbing Nick. With this awakening he pulled +himself together. To-morrow at sunrise he and the squaw were to go away, and +long he lay awake, thinking, thinking.</p> + +<p>Now the shadow hovering at the forest edge became more distinct as it neared +the house; it came slowly, stealing warily up the snow-clad hill. There was no +scrunch of footsteps, the snow muffled all such sounds. It drew nearer, nearer, +a tall, grey, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +ghostly shadow that seemed to float over the white carpet which was everywhere +spread out upon the earth. And as it came the wind rose, gusty and patchy, and +the hiss of rising snow sounded stingingly upon the night air, and often beat +with the force of hail against the front of the dugout.</p> + +<p>Within a few yards of the hut the figure came to a halt. Thus it stood, +immovable, a grey sombre shadow in the darkness of night. Then, after a long +pause, high above the voice of the rising wind the howl of the wolf rang out. It +came like a cry of woe from a lost soul; deep-toned, it lifted upon the air, +only to fall and die away lost in the shriek of the wind. Thrice came the cry. +Then the door of the dugout opened and Aim-sa looked out into the relentless +night.</p> + +<p>The figure moved forward again. It drew near to the door, and, in the light, +the grey swathing of fur became apparent, and the cavernous hood lapping about +the head identified the Spirit of the Moosefoot Indians. Then followed a low +murmur of voices. And again the woman moved back into the hut. The grey figure +waited, and a moment later Aim-sa came to him again. Shortly after the door +closed and the Spirit moved silently away.</p> + +<p>All was profoundly dark. The darkness of the night was a darkness that could +be felt, for the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +merciless blizzard of the northern latitudes was raging at its full height. The +snow-fog had risen and all sign of trail or footstep was swept from the icy +carpet. It was a cruel night, and surely one fit for the perpetration of cruel +deeds.</p> + +<p>And so the night passed. The elements warring with the fury of wildcats, with +the shrieking of fiends, with the roaring of artillery, with the merciless +severity of the bitter north. And while the storm swept the valley the two +brothers slept; even Ralph, although torn by such conflicting emotions, was +lulled, and finally won to sleep by the raging elements whose voices he had +listened to ever since his cradle days.</p> + +<p>But even his slumbers were broken, and strange visions haunted his night +hours. There was none of the peacefulness of his usual repose–the repose +of a man who has performed his allotted daylight task. He tossed and twisted +within his sleeping-bag. He talked disjointedly and flung his arms about; and, +finally, while yet it was dark, he awoke.</p> + +<p>Springing into a sitting posture, he peered about him in the darkness. +Everything came back to his mind with a rush. He remembered his appointment at +sunrise, and he wondered how long he had slept. Again he crept to the shed door. +Again he looked <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +out and finally passed out. Nick still slumbered heavily.</p> + +<p>The fury of the elements was unabated and they buffeted him; but he looked +around and saw the grey daylight illuminating the snow-fog, and he knew that +though sunrise was near it was not yet. He passed around the hut, groping with +his hands upon the building until he came to the door. Here he paused. He would +awake Aim-sa that she might prepare for her flight with him. There was much to +be done. He was about to knock but altered his mind and tried the latch. It +yielded to his touch and the door swung back.</p> + +<p>He did not pause to wonder, although he knew that it was Aim-sa’s +custom to secure the door. He passed within, and in a hoarse whisper called out +the name that was so dear to him. There came no answer and he stood still, his +senses tense with excitement. He called again, again. Still there was no answer. +Now he closed the door, which creaked over the snow covering the sill. He stood +listening lest Nick should be moving on the other side of the wall, and to +ascertain if Aim-sa had awakened and was fearful at the intrusion. But no sound +except the rage of the storm came to him.</p> + +<p>His impatience could no longer be restrained; he plunged his hand into the +pocket of his buckskin <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_127'></a>127</span> shirt and drew out a box of matches. A moment later +a light flashed out, and in one sweeping, comprehensive glance around him he +realized the truth. The hut was empty. “Gone, gone,” he muttered, +while, in rapid survey, his eyes glanced from one familiar object to +another.</p> + +<p>Everything was out of place, there were signs of disorder everywhere; and the +woman was gone.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the wind rushed upon the house with wild violence and set everything +in the place a-clatter. He lit the lamp. Then he seemed to collect himself and +went over and felt the stove. It was ice cold. The blankets were laid out upon +the floor in the usual spread of the daytime. They had not been slept in.</p> + +<p>Into his eyes there leapt a strange, wild look. The truth was forcing itself +upon him, and his heart was racked with torment.</p> + +<p>“She’s gone,” he muttered again, “an’,” +as an afterthought, “it’s storming terrible. Wher’? +Why?”</p> + +<p>He stood again for awhile like a man utterly at a loss. Then he began to +move, not quietly or with any display of stealth. He was no longer the +self-contained trapper, but a man suddenly bereft of that which he holds most +dear. He ran noisily from point to point, prying here, there, and everywhere +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> for some sign +which could tell him whither she had gone. But there was nothing to help him, +nothing that could tell him that which he would know. She had gone, vanished, +been spirited away in the storm.</p> + +<p>He was suddenly inspired. It was the realization of the condition of the +night which put the thought into his head. With a bound he sprang back to the +door and flung it open. To an extent the storm-porch was sheltered, and little +drift-snow had blown in to cover the traces of footsteps. Down he dropped upon +hands and knees. Instantly all his trailing instincts were bent upon his task. +Yes, there were footprints, many, many. There were his own, large moccasins of +home manufacture. There were Aim-sa’s, clear, delicate, and small. And +whose were those other two? He ran his finger over the outline as though to +impress the shape more certainly upon his mind.</p> + +<p>“Wide toe,” he muttered, “long heel, an’ high instep. +Large, large, too. By G―, they’re Injun!”</p> + +<p>He gave out the last words in a shout which rang high above the noise of the +storm; he sprang to his feet and dashed out around to the lean-to. At the door +he met his brother. Nick had been roused by his brother’s cry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>Seeing the +expression of Ralph’s face the larger man stood.</p> + +<p>“By Gar!” he cried. Then he waited, fearing he knew not what.</p> + +<p>“She’s gone,” shouted Ralph. “Gone, gone, can’t +ye hear?” he roared. “Gone, an’ some darned neche’s been +around. She’s gone, in the blizzard. Come!”</p> + +<p>And he seized Nick by the arm and dragged him round to the door of the +dugout.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE UNQUENCHABLE FIRE</span></h2> + +<p>An interminable week of restless inaction and torture followed Aim-sa’s +disappearance. Seven long, weary days the blizzard raged and held the two +brothers cooped within their little home. The brief, grey daylight dragged to +its howling end, and the seemingly endless nights brought them little relief. +The only inhabitants of the hut on the wild hillside that offered no complaint, +and even seemed to welcome the change, were Nick’s huskies. They displayed +a better temper since the going of the White Squaw, although the change in their +attitude was unheeded by their masters.</p> + +<p>The antagonism of the men was no longer masked by sullen silence. It broke +out into open hostility almost the moment their loss was discovered, and it took +the form of bickering and mutual reprisal. Nick laid the charge of her departure +at Ralph’s door. Applying all the most unreasonable arguments <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> in support of his +belief. Ralph retaliated with a countercharge, declaring that Nick had caused +her flight by thrusting his unwelcome attentions upon her. And every word they +uttered on the subject added fuel to the fire of their hatred, and often they +were driven to the verge of blows.</p> + +<p>Nick had no reason in him; and, in his anger, Ralph was little better. But +where a certain calmness came to the latter when away from his brother, Nick +continued to fume with his mind ever set upon what he regarded as only +<i>his</i> loss. Thus it came that Ralph saw ahead, hazily it is true, but he +saw that the time had come when they must part. It was impossible for them to +continue to shelter under the same roof, the roof which had covered them since +the days of their earliest recollections.</p> + +<p>But though he saw this necessity, he did not broach the subject, for, like +his brother, he looked forward to the abatement of the storm so that he might +set out in search of the lost one. Besides, he felt that until Aim-sa was found +he could not part from Nick. Even in his hatred for his brother, even in his +calmest moments, jealousy supervened. Were they to part, Nick might be the one +to find her, and then–No, they must wait till the storm had passed, +afterwards it would be time to act. Meanwhile, by tacit consent, they continued +to live <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> in the +lean-to, reserving the dugout for the object of their love, against her +return.</p> + +<p>At length the weather cleared. The search began at once. Each day they set +out for the forest and hills with hope buoying their hearts; and each night they +returned with downcast looks, despair in their hearts, and with their brooding +anger against each other a dark flame leaping within them.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, in stolen moments, they visited the place Aim-sa had lived in. +Every day Ralph would clean up the dugout and leave it ready for the White +Squaw’s occupation when she returned. Every article of furniture had its +allotted place, the place which she had selected. With the utmost deliberation +he would order everything, and never had their mountain home been so tenderly +cared for. Then Nick would come. His brother’s handiwork would drive him +to a frenzy of anger, and he would reset the place to his own liking, at which +Ralph’s exasperation would break out in angry protest.</p> + +<p>The metamorphosis of these men could not have been more complete. They hated +themselves, they grew to hate the home which was theirs, the wild in which they +lived. They set their traps and hunted because it was their habit to do so, but +always with only secondary thought for their calling. The <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> chief object of their lives was to find +the woman who had taught them the meaning of love.</p> + +<p>Winter was waning. The soft snow in the forest was melting rapidly. Every +morning found their valley buried beneath a pall of white fog. The sun’s +power was rapidly increasing, and already a slush of snow-water was upon the +ice-bound river. The overpowering heights of the valley gleamed and sparkled in +the cheery daylight; the clear mountain air drew everything nearer, and the +stifling sense, inspired by the crush of towering hills, was exaggerated as the +sun rose in the heavens and revealed the obscurer recesses of the stupendous +world. And now, too, the forest grew dank and moist, and the steady dripping of +the melting snow upon the branches became like a heavy rainfall within the +gloomy depths.</p> + +<p>One day Ralph returned home first. He was cooking the supper. The sun was +dipping behind the western mountain-tops, and the red gold reflection swept in a +rosy flush over the crystal summits. The winter sky had given place to the +deeper hue of spring, and, in place of the heavy grey cloud-caps, fleecy puffs +of white, little less dazzling than the snowy hills themselves, dotted the azure +vault above. The forest was alive with the cries of the feathered world, as they +sought their rest in their newly-built <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_134'></a>134</span> nests. It was not the bright chatter of gay +song-birds such as belong to warmer climes, but the hoarse cries of water-fowl, +and the harsh screams of the preying lords of wing and air. The grey eagle in +his lofty eyrie; the gold-crested vulture-hawk; creatures that live the +strenuous life of the silent lands, fowl that live by war. The air was very +still; the prospect perfect with a wild rugged beauty.</p> + +<p>The train dogs were lying about lazily, but their attitude was deceptive. +Their fierce eyes were only partially closed, and they watched the cook at his +work, waiting for their share in the meal.</p> + +<p>Presently a sharp snarl broke from one of them, and he sprang to his feet and +walked round his neighbour in a hectoring fashion. Ralph just glanced up from +his work, his attitude expressing indifference. The second dog rose leisurely, +and a silent argument over some old-time dispute proceeded in true husky +fashion. They walked round and round each other, seeming almost to tiptoe in +their efforts to browbeat. Their manes bristled and their fangs bared to the +gums, but never a sound came from their deep-toned throats. And such is ever the +way of the husky, unless stirred to the wildest fury. The other dogs paid no +heed; the smell which emanated from Ralph’s cooking-pot <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> held them. Those who +wished to fight could do so; their indifference plainly said so.</p> + +<p>Ralph went to the shed and returned with some fresh logs. As he reached the +fire he paused. The disputing dogs had attracted his attention. A quick spring +in and out, a slash of the bared fangs, and the shoulder of one dog was laid +open. The other brutes were on their feet in an instant. The scent of blood had +greater attraction for their wolfish senses than the smell of cooking food. They +gathered round with licking lips. Ralph stepped back from the fire and raised +aloft one of the logs he had brought. The next moment it was hurtling through +the air. It took the combatants somewhere in the midst. They parted, with a howl +of pain, and the spectators hurriedly returned to their contemplation of the +fire. In a moment temporary peace was restored. Ralph stood to see that +hostilities were definitely postponed, then he went on with his work.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, up out of the valley came the sound of Nick’s voice. It +trolled harshly up the hillside, giving out strange echoes which confused the +melody he essayed. The listening man recognized the words of “The Red +River Valley,” but the tune was obscured.</p> + +<p>The unusual outburst held Ralph silent, wondering. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> Nick was not given to singing at any +time, and the events of the last few days were not likely to inspire him. What +had caused the change?</p> + +<p>The voice sounded nearer. In spite of the tunelessness of the song, Ralph +thought he detected a joyousness in the tone which was unusual. A shiver passed +down his back, and his thoughts flew at once to Aim-sa.</p> + +<p>Gazing down the hill he saw Nick emerge from the forest and face the slope at +a swinging pace. His powerful limbs moved easily, with a springiness of stride +that was not natural to a man accustomed to the labours of the “long +trail.” His face was no longer bathed in desponding gloom; his eyes were +shining, and his strong features had upon them an expression of triumph. He +brought with him an atmosphere as fresh and joyous as the dawn of a mountain +summer sky.</p> + +<p>Over his shoulder were slung several moist pelts, newly taken from the +carcasses of golden foxes, and in his hand he carried two large traps, which he +was bringing home for repair. But these things were passed unheeded by his +brother; it was the voice, and the look upon his face that unpleasantly fixed +Ralph’s attention. But a further astonishment came <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> to the waiting man. Nick shouted a +greeting as he came.</p> + +<p>“A great day, Ralph,” he cried. “Two o’ the finest +yeller-bellies I’ve seed. Most as big as timber-wolves.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded, but said no word. He knew without being told that it was not +the pleasure of such a catch which had urged Nick to cordiality. He watched the +coming of his brother with his quiet, steady eyes, and what he beheld beat his +heart down, down, as though with the fall of a sledge-hammer.</p> + +<p>As Nick’s overtures met with no response, he said no more, but came and +stood beside the spluttering fire, while his eyes searched the gloomy face of +his brother. Then, with an impatient movement, he threw his traps down and +removed the pelts from his shoulder. He passed over to the dugout and spread the +reeking hides upon the roof, well out of reach of the dogs; then he returned in +silence to the fire.</p> + +<p>His coming had been the signal for a renewal of hostilities among the dogs, +and now a sharp clip of teeth drew his attention. The two beasts Ralph had +separated were at it again. Nick seized a pole and trounced them impartially +till they scattered out of his reach.</p> + +<p>A portentous silence followed. Nick was casting <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> about in his mind for something +agreeable to say. He felt good. So good that he did not want to tell Ralph what +was in his mind. He wanted to be sociable, he wanted to break through the icy +barrier which had risen between them; he felt that he could afford to do so. But +ideas were not forthcoming. He had but one thought in his brain, and when, at +last, he spoke it was to blurt out the very thing he would withheld.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen her,” he said, in a voice tense with +emotion.</p> + +<p>And Ralph had known it from the moment he had heard his brother singing. He +looked up from his cooking-pot, and his fork remained poised above the black +iron lid. At last his answer came in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>“Her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I spoke to her, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Spoke to her?”</p> + +<p>And the whites of the elder man’s eyes had become bloodshot as he stood +up from his crouching attitude over the fire.</p> + +<p>His stolid face was unmoved, only his eyes gave expression to that which +passed behind them. There was a dangerous look in their sunken depths which the +depressed brows accentuated. He looked into <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_139'></a>139</span> his brother’s face, and, for awhile, the +supper was forgotten.</p> + +<p>“Yes, spoke to her,” said Nick, emphatically. “She +ain’t gone from us. She ain’t left this valley. She’s scairt +o’ the Moosefoots. That all-fired ‘Hood.’ She said as they were +riled that she’d stopped in the white man’s lodge. Said they’d +made med’cine an’ found out where she’d gone. Say, that ‘Hood’ +is the very devil, I’m thinkin’. She’s scairt to death +o’ him.”</p> + +<p>But though Ralph listened to his brother’s words he seemed to pay +little heed. The blow had fallen on him with stunning force. Nick had seen +Aim-sa; he had been with her that day, perhaps all day. And at the thought he +broke out in a sweat. Something seemed to rise up in his throat and choke +him.</p> + +<p>“You look that glad. Maybe you’ve had a good time.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s words came as though he were thinking aloud.</p> + +<p>The devil stirred in Nick’s heart.</p> + +<p>“Glad, man? Glad? Ay, I am that, surely. She said as she’d been +on the watch fer me ever since the storm quit. She said as she wanted to hunt +wi’ me.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span>“An’ +why not? I ain’t lyin’, I guess. I ’lows she ain’t like to say +they things fer passin’ time. She was allus easy an’ free wi’ +me. Mebbe you’re kind o’ quiet. Wimmin mostly likes them as ken +talk.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s eyes darkened. His set face became more rigid. Then suddenly a +harsh laugh broke from his unmoving lips.</p> + +<p>“Guess you’re crazed, Nick. That woman’s foolin’ +ye.”</p> + +<p>Then he swung about as the sound of a violent struggle came from among the +dogs. It was the saving interruption. Another moment and the brooding hate of +the two men would have broken loose. Nick turned, too. And he was just in time; +for one of the huskies was down and the rest of the train were upon him, bent on +tearing out the savage life. Nick clubbed them right and left, nor did he desist +till the torn beast was upon his feet again, ready to face his antagonists with +undiminished courage. The husky knows no other termination to a quarrel than the +fight to the death.</p> + +<p>It took Nick some minutes to restore peace among his dogs, and by the time +this was accomplished his own feelings had calmed. Ralph, recognizing the danger +of his mood, had gripped himself sternly, and returned to his cooking.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span>And so the +crisis was passed and the disaster temporarily averted. But in their hearts both +men knew that the savage wild, ingrained in their natures, would not always be +so easily stifled. Unless they parted, a dire calamity must surely befall.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><span class='h2fs'>TO THE DEATH</span></h2> + +<p>The forest gloom is broken by gladdening beams of sunlight. They sketch a +mazy fretwork pattern of light and shade on the dank underlay of rotting +vegetation which the melting snow has laid bare. The air is weighted down with +heavy, resinous odours, and an enervating warmth has descended to the depths of +the lower forests. But Winter has not yet spread its wings for its last flight. +Spring’s approach has been heralded by its feathered trumpeters, garbed in +their sober plumage. It is on its way, that is all. The transition of the +seasons is at hand. Winter still resists, and the gentle legions of Spring have +yet to fight out their annual battle. The forests are astir with wild, furred +life; the fierce life which emphasizes the solitude of the mountain world. The +pine-cones scrunch under the feet of the prowling beast as he moves solemnly +upon his dread way; there is a swish of bush or a snapping of wood as some +startled <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> animal +seeks cover; or a heavy crashing of branches, as the mighty-antlered moose, +solemn-eyed, unheeding, thrusts himself through the undergrowth.</p> + +<p>Ralph was bending over a large trap. It was still set although the bait had +been removed. It had been set at the mouth of a narrow track where it opened out +in a small, snow-covered clearing. The blood stains of the raw meat with which +it had been baited were still moist, but the flesh itself had been taken. He +turned from his inspection. There were footprints in the snow, evidently the +tracks of a timber-wolf. His face expressed his disgust as he rebaited the trap. +Wolves were the pest of his life. Their skins were almost worthless, and they +were as cunning as any dog-fox. A trap had no terrors for them. He moved away to +continue on his journey. Suddenly he drew up and scanned the white carpet. His +trailing instincts were keenly alert.</p> + +<p>The snow was disturbed by other marks than those made by the wolf. In places +the ground was laid bare, and broken pine-cones were displayed upon its surface +as though some great weight had crushed them. Moose suggested itself. He looked +keenly at the marks. No, the snow displayed no imprint of cloven hoofs. It +looked as though it had been raked by a close-set harrow. To him there was much +significance in what he saw. Only one creature <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_144'></a>144</span> could have left such a track. There was but one +animal in that forest world that moved with shambling gait, and whose paws could +rake the snow in such a manner. That animal was the grizzly, the monarch of the +mountain forest.</p> + +<p>The man looked further over the snow, and, in a few moments, had learned all +he wished to know. There were two distinct trails, one approaching, the other +departing. But there was a curious difference between them. The approach had +evidently been at a slovenly, ambling pace. The raking of the trailing feet +showed this. But the departing track displayed every sign of great haste. The +snow had been flurried to an extent that had obliterated all semblance of +footprints.</p> + +<p>Ralph unslung his rifle. Ahead of him was the track, ahead of him also was a +further break in the forest where the sun shone down with dazzling brilliancy. +He passed on and looked up at the perfect sky. Then he took the direction of the +track. It struck out for the northeast.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if Nick’s lit on it,” he muttered. “It ’ud +be his luck, anyway.”</p> + +<p>He further examined the tracks, and the whiteness of the snow warned him they +were quite fresh.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t been made more’n an hour,” he added, in +further soliloquy. “Guess, I’ll trail him.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span>And he set off +hot-foot through the forest.</p> + +<p>The trail was well marked, and he followed it with ease. And as he moved +slowly on his mind had much leisure from his task. The direction the bear had +taken was towards the country over which Nick was working. Also Ralph could not +help recollecting that the northeast was the direction in which lay the +Moosefoot camp. True there were many miles of wild country between him and the +Indians, but the knowledge of the direction he was taking quickly turned his +thoughts into other channels, and his quarry no longer solely occupied his mind. +His eyes followed the trail, his thoughts went on miles ahead.</p> + +<p>It was three days since Nick had first told Ralph of his meeting with Aim-sa. +And ever since the latter had sought her himself, but his search had been in +vain. And each of those three days Nick had returned to camp happy and smiling +in a manner which maddened his brother. Now he thought of these things. He told +himself, with warped reasoning, that Nick had gone behind his back, that he had +taken undue advantage in his winning of Aim-sa’s regard. He forgot, or +admitted not, his own doings, his own secret meeting with her on the night of +her flight from the dugout.</p> + +<p>Such was his mood as he traversed the forest <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_146'></a>146</span> paths. Through dell and brake; through endless +twilight maze of black tree-trunks; over moss-grown patches, and roots and +stumps reeking with the growth of rank fungus. But his eyes never lost the +indications of his quarry, and at intervals he paused listening for some sound +which should tell him of the beast’s proximity.</p> + +<p>A frozen creek crossed his way. The surface was covered with the watery slush +of melting snow, and great cracks ran in many directions through the ice.</p> + +<p>He crossed it and the forest closed about him again. The beast he was +trailing had paused here, had moved roundabout as though seeking the direction +he required. Ralph followed the creature’s movements, understanding with +the acuteness of his forest breeding.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he started and a half-stifled cry broke from him. He dashed forward +to a point where the snow had drifted and was now disturbed. He halted, and +looked down. Other footprints mingled with those of the bear. They were small, +and had been made by moccasin-shod feet. He had seen such footprints before. He +knew the owner of the feet which had made these imprints. Aim-sa’s were +such as these–Aim-sa’s!</p> + +<p>His eyes took in every detail slowly, fondly. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> Where was she now? He must follow. Then +he remembered. Something else was following, not him, but her. He straightened +himself up, and a muttered exclamation broke from his lips. Now he understood. +Away there, back in the distant woods, the bear must have scented the +woman’s presence and was tracking her down. She had gone on through the +forest, unknowing of the danger that lurked behind her, which was hard upon her +trail.</p> + +<p>Forgetful of Nick, forgetful of all else, Ralph pursued the double trail. +Danger threatened the woman he loved, for aught he knew had already overtaken +her. To his credit be it said, that, as he raced over the sodden carpet of the +forest, not one selfish thought possessed him. Aim-sa was in danger, and so he +went headlong to the rescue. His quiet eyes were lit with a fiery determination +such as one might have expected in the eyes of Nick, but not in those of Ralph. +His soul was afire with anxiety. Aim-sa was an expert in forest-craft, but she +was a woman. So he hasted.</p> + +<p>The world about him might have been bathed in the blackness of night for all +he heeded it; only the track of footsteps stood out to his gaze like a trail of +fire. His speed was great; nor was he conscious how great. He no longer walked, +but <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> ran, and +thought nothing of distance, nor the passing of time. The trail of pursuer and +pursued still lit, red-hot, before him, and the cry of his heart still rang +out–On! On!</p> + +<p>It was noon when his speed slackened. Nor was it weariness that checked him. +Once in the echoing wood he had heard the distant sound of breaking undergrowth. +The prospect about him had changed. The forest had become a tangled maze of +low-growing shrub, dotted with giant growths of maple, spruce, and blue-gum. It +was a wider, deeper hollow than any hitherto passed, and the air was warmer. It +was the valley of a wide, swift-flowing river.</p> + +<p>The declivity was abrupt, and the rush of the river, too swift to succumb to +the grip of winter, sounded faintly up from below. Suddenly he halted listening, +and the sound of breaking undergrowth came to him again and again; he waited for +the cry of the human, but it did not come. With beating heart he hurried on, his +mind was easier and his thoughts centred upon the killing of the grizzly. His +rifle was ready to hand and he looked for a sight of the dark fur through the +bush ahead.</p> + +<p>Now his movements became almost Indian-like in their stealth. Bending low to +avoid the rustling <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +branches, he crept on, silently and swiftly. He no longer followed the tracks. +He had turned off, meaning to come up with his quarry against the wind. At every +opening in the bush he paused, his keen eyes alert for a sign of his prey. But +the leafless branches of the scrub, faintly tinged with the signs of coming +spring, alone confronted him; only that, and the noise of breaking brushwood +ahead.</p> + +<p>It quickly became plain to him that the bear was no longer advancing, but was +moving about uncertainly; and as he realized this, his heart was gripped with a +terrible fear. Had the brute come up with his prey? Had the tragedy been played +out? He dashed forward, throwing all caution to the winds; but ere he had gone +fifty yards he came to a halt, like one paralyzed.</p> + +<p>His eyes, which had been peering ever ahead, had suddenly dropped to the +ground. It seemed as though they could no longer face that which they looked +upon. For a moment his face worked as might that of a man in great pain. Then +its expression changed and a flush mounted to his brow; a flush of indescribable +rage. Again his eyes were raised and a devilish look peered out from them.</p> + +<p>An opening not two acres in extent lay before him. In its midst was a +blackened tree-trunk, limbless, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_150'></a>150</span> riven; a forest giant blasted by some mountain +storm. Nick was standing beside it; his gun rested against its blackened sides, +and, upon a fallen bough, scarcely a yard away, Aim-sa was seated. They were in +deep converse, and Ralph was near enough to hear the sound of their voices, but +not to distinguish their words. As he strained his tingling ears to catch the +tenor of their speech, he could hear the movements of the bear in the adjacent +woods.</p> + +<p>The two in the open seemed all unconscious of what was going on so near them. +Nick was gazing upon the woman, his heart laid bare in his eyes. And Aim-sa was +smiling up into his face with all the arch coquetry of her sex, with that +simple, trusting look which, however guileful, must ever appeal to the strong +man.</p> + +<p>For awhile Ralph looked on. The exquisite torture of his heart racked him, +but he did not turn away to shut out the sight. Rather it seemed as if he +preferred to thus harass himself. It was the working of his own angry passion +which held him, feeding itself, fostering, nursing itself, and goading him to +fury.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sound of movement close at hand broke the spell which held him. +He looked, and saw the bear less than twenty yards off.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>He gripped his +rifle, and his first thought was to slay. It was the hunter’s instinct +which rose within him. But something held him, and his weapon did not move from +his side; somewhere in his heart a harsh voice whispered to him, and he listened +to words of evil counsel. Then a revulsion of feeling swept over him, and he +shook himself as though to get rid of something which clung about him and +oppressed him. But the moment passed, leaving him undecided, his brain maddened +with bitter thoughts.</p> + +<p>The dark form in the bush beyond moved. There came no sound, and the waiting +man wondered if his eyes deceived him. No cat could have moved more silently +upon its prey. Not a twig creaked. It moved on stealthily, inexorably, till it +paused at the edge of the opening.</p> + +<p>Ralph’s eyes turned upon the dead tree. Nick’s back was turned, +and Aim-sa was intent upon her companion. She seemed to be hanging upon his +every word. And Ralph’s heart grew harder within him. His hand held his +rifle in a nervous clutch and his finger-nails scored the stock. A shout from +him would avert disaster; a shot would arrest that terrible advance. But the +shout remained unborn; the trigger still waited the compressing hand. And the +unconscious brother stood <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_152'></a>152</span> with death stealing upon him from beyond the fringe +of the woods.</p> + +<p>Solemnly the great grizzly advanced. Once in the open he made no pause. The +lumbering beast looked so clumsy that the inexperienced might have been forgiven +a smile of ridicule. Its ears twitched backward and forward, its head lolled to +its gait, and though its eyes shone with a baleful ferocity they seemed to gaze +anywhere but at its intended victims.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood watching, with lips compressed and jaws set, and a cruel frown +darkening his brow. But his heart was beating in mighty pulsations, and +somewhere within him a conflict was raging, in which Evil had attacked in +overwhelming force, and Good was being beaten back.</p> + +<p>Within ten yards of the tree the bear halted and reared itself upon its +haunches. Thus for a moment it towered in terrible menace.</p> + +<p>It was the last chance. Ralph’s lips moved as though to shout, but only +a low muttered curse came from them. Suddenly the air was split with a piercing +scream. Aim-sa stood erect, one arm was outstretched pointing, the other rested +against the tree as though she would steady herself. Her eyes were staring in +terror at the huge brute as it came towards them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span>Nick swung +round. He was too late. There was no time to reach his rifle. His right hand +plunged at his belt, and he drew a long hunting-knife from its sheath, and +thrust himself, a shield, before Aim-sa.</p> + +<p>The cry smote the savage heart of Ralph, smote it with the sear of white-hot +iron. A wave of horror passed over him. It was not of his brother he thought, +but of the woman he loved. Nick’s death would only be the forerunner of +hers. In a flash his rifle sprang to his shoulder. A second passed while his +keen eyes ran over the sights, the compressing hand was upon the trigger. A puff +of smoke. A sharp report. The grizzly swung round with a lurch. He had not +stopped, he merely changed the direction of his steps and came straight for the +forest where Ralph stood.</p> + +<p>But the magnificent brute only took a few strides. Ralph went out to meet +him, but, ere he came up, the creature tottered. Then, reeling, it dropped upon +all fours, only, the next instant, to roll over upon its side, dead.</p> + +<p>Ralph gave one glance at the body of the great bear; the next moment its +presence was forgotten. He passed on, and confronted those whom he had +unwillingly rescued. The depression of his brows, and the glint of his eyes and +merciless set of his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_154'></a>154</span> jaws, all gave warning of a danger that dwarfed to +insignificance that which had just passed.</p> + +<p>“I ’lows I hadn’t reckoned to find you wi’ company,” +Ralph said, addressing his brother with a quietness that ill-concealed the storm +underlying his words. “Mebbe I didn’t calc’late to find you, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the challenge in his look. Nick saw it. His impetuous +temper rose in response. The bear was forgotten. Neither alluded to it. The two +men faced each other with the concentrated jealous hatred of weeks’ growth +uppermost in their hearts.</p> + +<p>“Wal, I guess y’ve found me. What then?”</p> + +<p>Nick squared himself, and his expression was as relentless as that of the +older man.</p> + +<p>Ralph paid no heed to the taunting inquiry. He looked over at Aim-sa, who had +shrunk away. Now she answered his look with one that was half-pleading, +half-amused. She realized the feud which was between the men, but she did not +understand the rugged, forceful natures which she had so stirred.</p> + +<p>“Say, gal,” Ralph said abruptly. “Ther’s jest us two. +Ye gave yourself to me that night, maybe you’ve give yourself to him +since. Which is it, him or me? Ye’ll choose right here. Choose!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>Nick turned and +looked at her with strained, anxious eyes. Ralph’s face belied his outward +calm.</p> + +<p>“An’ what if Aim-sa loves neither?” the woman asked, with a +laugh in which there was no mirth, and some fear.</p> + +<p>“Then she’s lied.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s teeth shut with a snap.</p> + +<p>Aim-sa looked from one to the other. She was beginning to understand, and +with understanding came a great dread. She longed to flee, but knew that to do +so would be impossible.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa loves both,” she said at last.</p> + +<p>There was a long, deathly silence. The brooding solitude of the wild was +never more pronounced than at that moment.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph looked into the face of his brother, and Nick returned his +gaze.</p> + +<p>“You hear?” said Ralph. “She is an Injun, I guess, +an’ don’t know no better. Maybe we’d best settle it for +her.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so.”</p> + +<p>Ralph threw off his buckskin shirt. Nick removed his heavy clothing.</p> + +<p>“Stand aside, woman,” said Ralph. “Ye’ll wait by, +an’ your man’ll claim ye.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_156'></a>156</span>“Knives?” said Nick, through his +clenched teeth.</p> + +<p>“Knives.”</p> + +<p>And then again silence reigned.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE BATTLE IN THE WILD</span></h2> + +<p>The woman shrank back. The last trace of levity had vanished from her eyes. +Their blue depths gazed out upon the strange scene with horror and dread. In +that moment she understood the power she had wielded with these two men, and a +thrill of regret shook her frame. She saw in the eyes of both the cruel purpose +which was in their hearts. It was death for one of them. Even in that moment of +suspense, she found herself speculating which of them it would be.</p> + +<p>There was no sentiment in her thoughts. These two were nothing to her. She +would regret the death of either as she would regret the death of any strong, +healthy man; but that was all. Her horror was a natural revulsion at the +prospect of seeing death dealt out in the ruthless manner that these men +contemplated.</p> + +<p>Just for one instant the desire to stay the combatants <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> rose uppermost in her mind. She stepped +forward again and raised a protesting hand.</p> + +<p>“Are you brothers or wolves of the forest that you’d kill each +other? If you fight for Aim-sa, she’ll have neither of you.”</p> + +<p>Her words rang out clear and incisive. In her excitement she had forgotten +the halting phrases of the White Squaw, and spoke fluently enough. Nick was +ominously silent. Ralph answered her.</p> + +<p>“Stand back, an’ remember ye’re the squaw of him as wins ye +in fair fight.”</p> + +<p>Then he cried out to his brother:</p> + +<p>“Are ye ready?”</p> + +<p>Nick made no audible reply. His face looked the words his lips did not frame. +He was ready, and the passion in him was more than willing. Once, before he +closed with his opponent, he glanced round at Aim-sa. It may have been that he +sought one look of encouragement, one smile; it may have been. But the beautiful +face he looked upon had no smile for either. It was dead white under its +tanning, and the blue eyes were widely staring. Ralph did not take his eyes from +his brother’s face, and the fierce light in them was as the gleam in the +eyes of the timber-wolf prowling at night around a camp-fire in the forest.</p> + +<p>For a moment a heavy cloud spread itself over <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> the face of the sun, and the grey +daylight of winter again covered the mountains. Instantly the forest lost its +look of spring, and the air returned to the chill of the darker months. The bald +break in the forest looked more cheerless than a waste ground in a city, and +those who stood about to fight for life became savage images that looked +something less than human. Nick, larger than his brother, was a tower of thew +and muscle. As he stood there, clad in a cotton shirt and trousers belted at the +waist, he was the figure of a perfect man. His shaggy head was thrown back, but +his handsome face was distorted by its expression of hate. Ralph was the smaller +by inches, but his muscles were as fine-tempered steel. There was even more of +the wild in his expression than in that of his brother. The ferocity in his face +was wolfish, and not good to look upon.</p> + +<p>Both had bared their hunting-blades, long knives at once vicious and coldly +significant.</p> + +<p>There was no further word. The men bent low and moved circling round each +other. Their attitudes were much those of wrestlers seeking an advantageous +“holt.” By common consent they avoided the tree, keeping to the +oozing soil of the open.</p> + +<p>Ralph displayed the more activity. His lesser <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> stature inclined to a quickness his +brother did not possess. He sought to use art to draw the impetuosity of the +other, and kept up a series of feints. But strangely enough Nick displayed a +control which was surprising. He had a full appreciation of the life and death +struggle. He had faced it too often with the dumb adversaries of the forest. It +was Ralph who became incautious. His fury could not long be held in check, and +his cunning at the start of the fight soon gave place to a wild and slashing +onslaught, while Nick fought on the defensive, reading in his brother’s +eyes the warning of every contemplated attack.</p> + +<p>But Ralph’s swift movements harassed Nick; they pressed him sorely, and +often drove him to extremity in his defence. For long he kept distance, knowing +that while the other was wasting strength his own was being carefully +husbanded.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes passed. Still they had not come together. Ralph charged in with +upraised knife; the blow was warded, and he passed on only to swing round on the +instant and repeat the attack from the opposite direction. But always Nick faced +him, grim, determined, and with deadly purpose. Once the latter slipped; the +footing was none too secure. Instantly Ralph hurled himself upon him and his +blade scored his brother’s arm, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_161'></a>161</span> leaving a trail of blood from elbow to wrist. That +one touch let loose Nick’s pent-up fury and he allowed himself to be +drawn.</p> + +<p>The two came together with a terrific impact. Nick slipped again. This time +he could not save himself. His feet shot from under him and he went down +backwards. In his fall he seized Ralph’s knife-arm at the wrist, and the +same time aimed a slashing blow at his face. But Ralph’s agility was as +furious as it was full of force. In turn he caught Nick by the wrist, and, with +a great wrench, sought to dislocate his shoulder.</p> + +<p>As well try to tear a limb from the parent oak. Ralph’s effort died +out, and they lay upon the ground fighting to free their weapons. Now the life +and death struggle had begun. It was a hideous battle, silent, ominous. But the +horror of it lay, not in the deadly intent, the flashing steel, the grim +silence. These men were brothers; brothers whose affection had stood them +through years of solitary labours, trials, and privations, but which had changed +to a monstrous hatred because a woman had come into their lives.</p> + +<p>As the moments swept by, the brothers rolled and writhed, with every faculty +at terrible tension. Now Ralph was uppermost; now Nick sought to drive the +downward blow. Now Ralph strained <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_162'></a>162</span> to twist his knife-arm free from the iron grip that +held it; now Nick slashed vainly at the air, seeking to sever the sinewy limb +that threatened above his face.</p> + +<p>It required only the smallest slip, the briefest relaxation of the +tense-drawn muscles on the part of either, and death awaited the unfortunate. +For long neither yielded one iota, but the struggle was too fierce to last. +Human strength has but narrow limits of endurance when put forth to its +uttermost. Given no slip, no accident, there could be only one conclusion to the +battle. Victory must inevitably be with the man of superior muscle. Neither +fought with a fine skill; for, used as they both were to the knife, their +antagonists of the forest only possessed Nature’s weapons, which left the +hunter with the balance of power.</p> + +<p>Already the breathing of the combatants had become painfully heavy; but while +Ralph struggled with all the fierceness of his passion, and put forth his whole +strength, Nick reserved a latent force for the moment when opportunity arrived. +And that moment was nearing.</p> + +<p>Ralph was under and Nick’s great weight held him down, for the sinuous +struggles of the other had lost their vim. Suddenly, with a mighty effort, the +younger man wrenched his knife-arm free, and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_163'></a>163</span> a cry, hoarse, fierce, sounded deep in his throat. +But his effort had cost him his hold upon his brother. There was a wicked gleam +of steel as both men struck.</p> + +<p>Ralph, striking upwards, was at a disadvantage. His blade, aimed at the neck +and shoulder, struck Nick’s cheek, laid the flesh open to the lower jaw, +glanced, and buried itself in the muscle of the shoulder. Nick’s blade +smote with a fearful gash into the side of his brother’s throat.</p> + +<p>It was over.</p> + +<p>Ralph lay quivering and silent upon the ground. Nick rose staggering and +dazed.</p> + +<p>He moved away like a man in a dream. His arms hung limply at his sides, and +his eyes looked out across the wide woodland valley with an uncomprehending +stare. His face was almost unrecognizable under the flow of blood from his +wound. Once, as he stood, one hand went up mechanically to his face, then it +dropped again without having accomplished its purpose. And all the while his +vacant eyes stared out upon–nothing.</p> + +<p>Presently he sat down. His actions were almost like collapse, and he remained +where he sat, still, silent, like an image. The moments passed. The quiet was +intense. A faint murmur of flowing waters came up from the river beyond.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>Suddenly he +moved. Then in a moment he seemed to break out into passionate life. The stony +stare had gone from his eyes. Intelligence looked out; intelligence such as one +might find in one whose mind is on the verge of losing its balance; a fearful, +anxious, hunted intelligence, face to face with an unending horror.</p> + +<p>He moved to where his brother was lying, and stood shaking in every limb; he +had realized the work of his hands. He dashed the blood from his face. The vivid +stain dyed his fingers and the touch of the warm tide only seemed to add to his +terror. He went up to the still form and looked down. Then he backed away, +slowly, step by step, but still unable to withdraw his fascinated gaze.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a cry broke from his lips. It was bitter, heartrending. Then a quick +word followed.</p> + +<p>“Wher’s–”</p> + +<p>His question remained uncompleted. His head turned swiftly, and he looked +stupidly about him. The clearing was empty of all save himself and that other +lying upon the ground at his feet, and, beyond, the carcass of the dead grizzly. +A dreadful fear leapt to his brain; he moved tottering. His action gained +swiftness suddenly. He ran to the forest edge, and, with hungry eyes, gazed in +beyond the sparse fringe of scrub. There was nothing <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> there. He moved away to the right and +ran in amongst the low-growing bush, only to reappear with more feverish haste, +and eyes whose fiery glance seemed to shoot in every direction at once. On he +went, round the edge of the entire clearing; in and out, like some madman +running purposelessly in search of some phantasy of his brain. There was no one +there but himself, and the two still forms upon the ground. Aim-sa was gone!</p> + +<p>But he did not pause. His brain was in a tumult, there was no reasoning in +it. He searched everywhere. Bush that could conceal nothing bigger than a beetle +was examined; to his distorted fancy the lightning-stricken tree presented a +hiding-place. Further he penetrated into the woods, but always only to return to +his brother’s side, distraught, weary from loss of blood.</p> + +<p>Gone! Aim-sa was gone!</p> + +<p>At last he stood, an awesome figure, bloodstained, dishevelled. He was at his +brother’s side as he had been a dozen times during his mad search. It was +as though he returned to the dead for company. But now, at last, he moved away +no more. He looked upon the pallid face and staring, sightless eyes, and the red +pool in which the body weltered.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, and the quiet set his <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> pulses beating and his ears drumming. +Presently he turned away. But as by a magnet drawn, he turned quickly again and +his eyes once more rested upon his brother’s body. Then all in a moment a +stifled cry broke from his lips, and, throwing himself upon his knees, he thrust +his arms about the dead.</p> + +<p>Suffering as he was, he raised the body and nursed the almost severed head. +He muttered hoarsely, and his face was bent low till his own dripping wound shed +its sluggish tide to mingle with the blood of the man he had slain.</p> + +<p>Now, in his paroxysm of awful remorse, the woman was forgotten, and he only +realized the dread horror he had committed. He had slain his brother! He was a +murderer! For what?</p> + +<p>At the thought he almost threw the body from him as he sprang to his +feet.</p> + +<p>“No, no! not murder,” he cried, in a choking voice. “It was +fair fight.”</p> + +<p>Then, still looking down, he drew his foot back as though to kick the +stiffening clay. But the blow did not come, and, instead, he wrung his hands at +his sides like a child in distress. Harsh sobs broke tearless from his lips; his +breast heaved with inexpressible agony. Then he flung himself face downwards +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> upon the sodden +earth, and his fingers dug into the carpet of dead matter, clawing +aimlessly.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was well advanced when he moved again. He rose to his feet +without any warning, and the change in him was staggering. Now a gaunt, +grey-faced man looked out upon the world through eyes which burned with the +light of fever. His movements were slow, deliberate. Only his eyes betrayed his +condition, telling a tale of a strange new life born within him.</p> + +<p>He moved off into the woods, striking down the slope towards the river. He +was gone some time; and when he returned his face was cleaned, and a bandage was +tied about it. The wound in his shoulder was not severe.</p> + +<p>He came none too soon, for, as he neared the clearing, he heard a succession +of deep-toned wolf-howls. As he broke the forest fringe, he saw two great +timber-wolves steal swiftly back to the depths whence they had just emerged.</p> + +<p>Nick cursed them under his breath. Then he went to his brother’s side. +Here he paused, and, after a moment of mental struggle, stooped and lifted the +corpse upon his unwounded shoulder. Then with his gruesome freight he plunged +into the forest.</p> + +<p>He held the body firmly but tenderly, and walked <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> as rapidly as his burden permitted. He +often talked to himself as he went, like a man in deep thought and stirred by +violent emotions. Sometimes he slowed his gait, and, at others, he almost ran. +His thoughts influenced him strangely.</p> + +<p>Once he set his burden down and rested. The forest was getting dark about +him, but it suited his mood; it formed a background for his gloomy thoughts. +And, while he rested, he fell to talking as though Ralph were living, and merely +rested with him. He talked and answered himself, and, later, leaned over his +dead, crooning like some woman over her child. The time passed. Again he rose, +and once more shouldering the body, now stiff and cold, hastened on.</p> + +<p>And as the evening shadows gathered, and the forest gloom deepened, there +came the sound of movement about him. At intervals wolfish throats were opened +and the dismal forest cries echoed and reëchoed in the hollow shadows.</p> + +<p>His burden grew heavier. His mind suffered, and his nerves were tense as the +wires of a musical instrument. Every jolt found an echoing note upon them, and +each note so struck caused him exquisite pain. And now, too, the wolves grew +bolder; the scent of blood was in the air and taunted their <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> hungry bellies till they began to lose +their fear of the man.</p> + +<p>Nick stopped and looked about him. The evening shadows were fast closing in. +In the gloom he saw eyes looking out upon him, eyes in pairs, like coals of fire +surrounded by dark, lank, shadowy forms. One shadow stood out more distinctly +than the others, and he unslung his rifle and fired pointblank at it. There was +a howl of pain. Then followed several fierce yelps, and stealing forms crowded +thick and fast upon the creature that had bitten the dust.</p> + +<p>With a thrill of strange dread Nick shouldered his burden again and proceeded +on his way. His steps were no longer steady, but hurried and uncertain. In his +haste he frequently stumbled, but he was strong, and he had a haunting fear of +what lay behind him, and so he put forth a great effort.</p> + +<p>The twilight deepened; black shadows were everywhere about him. Hills rose +before him, and valleys sank away at his feet. His fancy now saw the forest +crowded with prying eyes. Every tree-trunk became a figure which stood pointing +and whispering words of denunciation. And as he beheld this ghostly army of +shadows his heart quailed, and the look in his eyes grew more and more fevered. +He lurched on under the cold, clammy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_170'></a>170</span> body without thought of his way, with nervous dews +upon his forehead, and shaking limbs.</p> + +<p>The wolves still followed. Their cries, vicious, eager, came to him, and he +knew that the meal he had provided was devoured, and they hungered yet, and +thirsted for the blood they scented upon the air. He sped on, staggering, and +his mind grew dizzy. But he knew that he had entered his valley, and beyond lay +the dugout which henceforth was his alone.</p> + +<p>His intolerable burden had worn him down. He feared it as he feared the dark +shadows of the woods, and the stealing forms which trailed behind him. He longed +to throw that which he carried to the ground and run headlong to the shelter of +his home. But something held him. It was as if his brother’s corpse were +endowed with life, a ghostly life, and that it clung with tenacious grip to the +back of the living. And the thought grew in his aching brain that he was no +longer free to do as he chose, but was being driven by the Thing he carried. At +the river he bent to rid himself of the corpse. He purposed to rest ere he bore +it up the last hill, but the stiff arms had somehow embraced his neck and clung +to him. With a cry of terror he moved forward at a run. Hard on <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> his heels came the +loud-voiced throng of timber-wolves.</p> + +<p>At last, ahead, he heard the yelping of his own dogs. The noise brought him a +measure of relief, for the speeding shadows behind dropped back into the woods, +and their voices faded away into the distance.</p> + +<p>But the corpse clung, and its weight dragged him back; to his distorted fancy +the arms held his neck as in a vise. He gasped painfully as imagination told him +that he was being choked. A cold sweat poured down his face and set him +shivering, but, like one doomed to his task, he sped on.</p> + +<p>Now the open stretched before him and beyond lay the dugout. He saw his dogs +rushing to meet him; his five fierce huskies. They came welcoming; then they +paused uncertainly and grouped together in a cluster, and their tone suddenly +changed to the short-voiced yapping of fear. As he came on he called them by +name, seeking solace in their company and in the sound of his own voice. But the +only response the dogs made was to move uneasily. Their bushy tails drooped and +hung between their legs and they turned back fearfully. Then they began to creep +away, slinking in furtive apprehension; then finally they broke into a headlong +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> flight, racing for +home in a perfect madness of terror.</p> + +<p>And so, with horror staring from his eyes, the man who had killed his brother +came to his home again.</p> + +<p>Inside the hut he released himself from the icy embrace of the dead +man’s arms, and laid the poor, cold clay upon the blankets which had been +spread for the return of Aim-sa. While he stood brooding over the corpse a sound +reached him from, behind. Turning he saw that he had left the door open, and in +the opening he beheld the crowding forms of his dogs. They stood snarling +fiercely, with bristling manes, their narrow-set eyes gleaming in the dusk like +sparks of baleful light.</p> + +<p>The sight set him shuddering. Then something seemed to stir within him. His +heart felt like stone in his body. A coldness seemed to freeze his blood one +minute, and the next in a rush came a wave of fiery passion which drove him to +unthinking action. The veins in his head seemed to be bursting, and his brain +felt as though gripped in a vise.</p> + +<p>Out whipped his revolver, and six chambers were emptied at the figures which +barred the doorway. A hubbub of howls followed, then, in a moment, all became +quiet. Now the doorway stood clear; the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_173'></a>173</span> creatures had vanished–all but two. And these +lay where they had fallen.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a harsh laugh broke the stillness. But though the laugh was his, +Nick’s lips were unsmiling and his eyes gleamed furiously out into the +night.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE GATHERING OF THE FOREST LEGIONS</span></h2> + +<p>Nick kicked the bodies of the two dogs from the doorway. Then, by force of +habit, he kindled a fire in the stove, though he had no thought or desire for +warmth. His action was mechanical and unheeding. Then he sat down; and, as he +sat, he heard the howling of the dogs as, in chorus, they mourned their dead +companions.</p> + +<p>As the noise continued the man’s nerves vibrated with the hideous dole. +It rose and fell, in mournful cadence, until he could stand it no longer. So he +rose and reloaded his revolver. The action brought him relief. It did more: it +brought him a feeling akin to joy. And he passed out into the night.</p> + +<p>Forceful action alone could serve him. His dread, the torture of heart and +brain, found relief in the thought of taking life. A lust for slaughter was upon +him.</p> + +<p>He closed the door behind him, and, from the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_175'></a>175</span> storm porch, peered out beyond. The moon had just +risen above the ghostly mountain peak, and its deep, yellow light shone down +over the gleaming crests in long shafts of dull fire. Twenty yards away, the +three huskies were squatting upon the ground facing each other, as might their +blood relations, the timber-wolves. Their long, sharp muzzles were thrown up +towards the starlit heavens, and their voices trolled drearily from their +cavernous throats, thrilling the air and arousing the mountain echoes.</p> + +<p>For a second there was a gleam of light in the darkness of the porch as the +moon’s rays caught the burnished metal of the man’s revolver. Then +three shots rang sharply out. Three hideous voices were instantly hushed; three +bodies rolled over, falling almost side by side. The labour of the trace would +know the huskies no more.</p> + +<p>But the man’s passion was only rising. He reentered the hut, thrilled +with a strange wild joy. A fierceness leapt within him as he seated himself +beside the stove and gazed over at the still form of his brother. And up out of +the forest came the yelp of famished wolf and starving coyote.</p> + +<p>The hunched figure made no move.</p> + +<p>Wild thoughts surged through his brain, thoughts which had no sequence, no +continuity. He had <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +not eaten the whole day, and though food was now to his hand he heeded it not. +He was exhausted and utterly weary of body. But he sought no rest. He was living +upon the vitality of his poor strained brain, sapping the tide of reason which +flowed none too surely.</p> + +<p>The time passed.</p> + +<p>The cries of the wolves gathered force and drew nearer. The scent of blood +was in the air. That night they were very bold. With muzzles thrown up they +snuffed at the scent they loved, and came with licking lips and frothing jowls, +fighting fiercely among themselves.</p> + +<p>Nick stirred at last.</p> + +<p>He rose and took his rifle. His cartridge-belt was still about his waist. +Again he passed out into the night. In the shadow of the porch he stood again, +and gazed upon the moonlit scene. Down the hill was the darkness of the forest, +giving the appearance of an unfathomable pit. Above rose its sides, shimmering +in the cold moonlight. Above the forest line the eternal snows glinted like +burnished steel, for the yellow rays of the rising moon had given place to the +silvery gleam of its maturity. The diamond-studded sky had nothing of darkness +in it; a grey light, the sheen of the star myriads too minute to be visible to +the naked eye, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +shone down upon the earth, and the still air had the sharp snap of the spring +frost in it. Nick was oblivious to all but the forest cries and the crowd of +stealing forms moving from the woodland shelter, and circling upward, ever +nearer and nearer towards the feast which lay spread out within sight of their +cruel eyes.</p> + +<p>Nearer they drew, lean, scraggy, but withal large beasts. And as they came +they often paused to send their dismal song out upon the air. Then there was a +scuffle, a wicked clipping of keen fangs. Instantly the crowd packed about a +fallen comrade. Then later they would scatter and continue their advance in a +sort of rude skirmishing order. The man’s rifle was at his shoulder; a +tongue of flame leapt from its muzzle, and its report rang out bitingly. The +foremost wolf fell to the earth, and the ravenous horde behind leapt to the +banquet thus provided.</p> + +<p>Again and again the rifle spoke its sharp-voiced command, and death followed +hard upon its word. At every shot a wolf went down, and the madness rose in the +brain behind the eyes that looked out from the porch. Nick’s craving for +slaughter increased. He emptied his belt and obtained a fresh supply of +ammunition, and continued to wage his fiendish warfare. And all the time wolves +poured <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> out from +the woods until it seemed as if the whole race had gathered in one vast army to +assail the little stronghold set high upon the hillside. It was as though +Ralph’s death had been the signal for the gathering of the forest +creatures to avenge him.</p> + +<p>And fierce and long the carnage continued. The fearsome pastime was one to +thrill the most hardened with horror. The still night air was filled with a +nauseating reek, whilst the echoes gave back the death-cries, mingling with the +deep-toned bayings of ferocious joy. But never for one instant did the man relax +his watchfulness. Never once did his rifle cease its biting greeting to the +relentless scavengers of the forest. Short and sharp its words leapt forth, and +every word meant death.</p> + +<p>The moon passed its meridian and sank lower and lower towards the western +peaks; and as it lost power the stars shone more brilliantly and the northern +lights hovered in the sky, dancing their fantastic measure slowly, solemnly. The +tint of dawn stole gradually above the eastern horizon. The man was still at his +post, his unsleeping eyes ever watchful. Longer intervals now elapsed between +his deadly shots. The wolves recognized the coming of daylight, and became more +chary of breaking cover. Besides, the banquet was nearly over and every guest +was gorged.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span>Dawn grew apace. +The silver of the eastern sky changed to gold, deeper and deeper, till the +yellow merged into a roseate sheen which shone down upon the cloud mists, and +tinged them with the hue of blood. Light was over the darkling forests, and as +it brightened the voice of the forest legions died away in the distance, and the +battleground was deserted of all but the author of the fearful carnage.</p> + +<p>Nick waited in his shelter until the last cry had passed. Then he reluctantly +turned back into the hut. He sought no rest. His fevered brain was in a tumult. +For a long time he stood beside his brother’s corpse, while his mind +struggled to regain something of its lost balance. There came to him a hazy +recollection of all that had gone before. It was as though he stood viewing the +past from some incalculable distance. Events passed phantasmagorically before +his memory, yet always their meaning seemed to tantalize and elude him.</p> + +<p>And while he stood thus the woman leapt into the foreground of his mental +picture. It was the tangible feature he needed upon which he could link the +chain of recollection. Now everything became more clear. Now the meaning of his +brother’s dead body returned to him once more. He remembered all that had +happened. His love for <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_180'></a>180</span> Aim-sa arose paramount out of the shadowed recesses +of his deranged mind, and merged into that other passion which had gripped him +the night long.</p> + +<p>Nor was there pity nor penitence in his mood. Remorse had passed from him. +Now there was no one to stand between him and his love. He was glad that Ralph +was dead. Suddenly, as he stood looking down upon the still form, a harsh laugh +broke from him and echoed through the stillness of the room.</p> + +<p>He moved away and replenished the stove; and then, returning, he wrapped his +brother in the blankets on which he lay. Moving the blanket-wrapped body aside, +he exposed the floor where the treasure had been buried. Suddenly he brushed his +tangled hair aside from his forehead. A sigh, which was almost a gasp, escaped +him. His lips moved, and he muttered audibly:</p> + +<p>“Ay, she’ll come to me agin, I guess, same as she’s done +before. Yes, an’ it’s all hers, ’cause it’s all mine now. By +Gar! ther’s a deal ther’–a mighty deal. An’ it’s +ours. Hers an’ mine.”</p> + +<p>Again he passed a hand across his forehead, and his action was uncertain, as +of a man who finds it difficult to think, and having thought fails to obtain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> reassurance. He +passed out of the hut, and presently returned with a shovel and pick.</p> + +<p>Now the hut resounded with the dull thud of the pick as it was driven deep +into the hard-trodden earth. There was a feverish haste and unnecessary energy +in the manner of his work. At first what he intended was not quite clear. He +seemed to be digging at random. Then he laid his pick aside and plied the +shovel, and gradually his purpose became plain. A long, narrow trench was +cleared, and its outline was that of a grave. Again the pick was set to work, +and again the shovel cleared the débris. The ground was hard with the years of +tramping it had endured, and it took a long time to dig to a sufficient depth. +But at last the grave was completed.</p> + +<p>Nick seized the body in its blanket shroud and flung it into the hole. There +was neither pause nor hesitancy in anything he did, only his eyes peered +furtively about. As the first part of the burial was accomplished, a panic +seized him and he shovelled the soil back as though his life depended on his +speed. He packed the dry clay down with his feet; nor did he rest till the grave +was filled to the top.</p> + +<p>Then he paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. The tension of his nerves +was slightly relaxed. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_182'></a>182</span> He went outside the hut to drink in a deep breath +of the purer mountain air before he proceeded further. And while he stood +leaning against the doorway he listened as though expecting the sound of some +one approaching. He scanned the outlook carefully, but there was no sign of +living creature about. The wolves had gone as surely as if their visit had been +a ghostly hallucination which daylight had dispelled.</p> + +<p>He returned to his labours with his spirit more easy and his brain less +fevered. He thought of Aim-sa and that which he meant to bestow upon her.</p> + +<p>Near by where he had buried his brother’s body was the spot where the +treasure had been placed for safety. Here he began to dig. The work was easy. +The soil was light and loose, and gave beneath the sharp edge of the shovel. He +cleared several shovelfuls out, and then stooped to rake for the chest with his +fingers. He knew that it had been buried only a few inches below the surface. He +raked long and diligently, but, wherever he tried it, the earth gave beneath the +pressure of his strong fingers, nor yielded up any indication of the chest. He +rose and resorted once more to the shovel, and a look of disquiet stole into his +face. He opened a wider surface, thinking he had missed <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> the spot. He dug deeper, but no chest +appeared, and his look changed to one of absolute fear.</p> + +<p>Again he raked, but without result. Again he dug, but now deeper and deeper. +Still there was no chest, and as he widened the hole he found himself working +upon the hard soil which had never before been disturbed. An awful fear gripped +him. He sought out the spot where the soil was easy. He knew that this was where +he had buried the chest. His actions became hurried and more and more energetic. +He dug furiously, scattering the earth wildly in his alarm, and all the time +conviction was forcing itself upon him, and he muttered as he worked.</p> + +<p>But all his efforts were in vain, and, after an hour’s fruitless +search, he flung down the shovel with a bitter cry. Then he stood gazing blankly +before him with eyes that seemed to scorch in his head. His face twitched, and +his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Then his lips parted and he +gasped rather than spoke.</p> + +<p>“It’s gone!”</p> + +<p>The veins at his temples beat visibly. In his ears was a sound as of rushing +waters. He saw nothing. He scarcely knew where he was, only he was conscious of +something in his head which was strained to the verge of breaking. When, at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> last, movement +came to him, every nerve in his body seemed to draw up with a jolt, and a cry, +like the roar of a maddened bull, burst from his quivering lips. He rushed +headlong from the hut.</p> + +<p>Out into the glittering daylight he went, heedless of his course, heedless of +his surroundings. He rushed down the hill and plunged into the woods. On he +went, without pause, without hesitation, blindly, madly. On, on, running, +stumbling, slipping upon the sodden earth, tripping over projecting roots and +rotting stumps.</p> + +<p>His mind was a blank. He saw, but comprehended not; he felt, but the sense +had no meaning. He heard with clarion-like distinctness, but that which he heard +sang upon his ear-drums and penetrated no further. His way was the way of the +blindfold, his staring eyes beheld nothing real; he saw the name of Aim-sa +blazing in letters of fire before him, and a hazy picture of her lovely face. +All recollection of his loss had suddenly passed from him, utterly blotted out +of his thought as though he had never known it. He knew not that he had ever had +a brother whose death had been the work of his own hand. The hut behind him +might never have existed, the forest about him might have been the open prairie, +the sodden ground a carpet of fine texture, the snow-covered clearings <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> dusty plains; he knew +nothing, nothing. He moved, ran, walked; he was a living organism without a +governing power of mind.</p> + +<p>Noon came. The silent forest looked down upon his frenzied progress. The +trees nodded gently in the breeze, whispering solemnly to each other in their +pitying tones. Owls watched him with staring, unmeaning eyes; deer fled as he +came rushing into the calm of their sylvan retreats. A grizzly stood erect as he +passed, meditating a protest at the strange disturbance, but remained staring in +amazement as the wild human figure went by, oblivious and unheeding.</p> + +<p>The afternoon saw him still struggling, but now wearily, and in a state of +collapse. His headlong course had taken the inevitable turn. He had swung round +in a great circle, and was heading again for the hillside where the dugout +stood. Now he often fell as he went, for his feet lagged and caught in every +unevenness of the ground. Once he lay where he fell, and remained so long +motionless that it seemed as if he would rise no more. But as the afternoon +waned and the evening shadows gathered, there came the wild cries of the wolves +from somewhere close behind. Though he felt no fear of them, he staggered to his +feet and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> dragged +wearily on towards the hut. It was the forest instinct obeyed mechanically.</p> + +<p>He came to the hut; he passed the door. Again it was habit that guided him. +He kept on, and went round to the door of the lean-to. It stood wide open and he +plunged within, and fell headlong upon his blankets. Nor did he stir again; only +there came the sound of his stertorous breathing to indicate that he slept.</p> + +<p>Black night closed down. The forest cries awoke and their chorus rang out as +the moon mounted in the heavens. The wolfish legions hovered at the edge of the +woods and snuffed hungrily at the air. But the scent of blood had passed, and +they came not too near.</p> + +<p>Nick’s slumber of exhaustion was haunted by painful, incoherent dreams. +With the curious freakishness of a disordered mind, he was beset by a vision of +the dark, ferret face of Victor Gagnon. The trader seemed to be hovering +threateningly over his rude couch, and, behind him, less distinct, but always +recognizable, was the fair Aim-sa. The whole night the sleeper was depressed by +some dreadful threat which centred about the vision of these two, and when at +length he awoke it was with the effect of his dreams hard upon him.</p> + +<p>The fair fresh daylight was streaming in through <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> the open door. Nick roused himself. He +turned uneasily, shivering with the cold, for he had slept where he had fallen. +Suddenly he sat up. Then with a leap he was on his feet and wide-awake, and the +name of Victor Gagnon fell from his lips. A frenzied, unreasoning desire to take +the trader’s life possessed him.</p> + +<p>His body was refreshed and the blank of memory had passed from him. A gleam +of reason shot athwart the racked brain. It was only for an instant, then it was +gone again. But that instant sufficed. He remembered that Gagnon knew of the +treasure, the only person except himself who knew of it. Victor had robbed him. +A wild laughter shook him. Ay, that was it. Victor was the thief; he should die. +After that–Aim-sa.</p> + +<p>His untutored brain had broken under the strain of recent events. Horror had +driven him to the verge of the abyss in the depths of which lurked insanity; his +final loss had plunged him headlong down. He was mad!</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /><span class='h2fs'>WHERE THE LAWS OF MIGHT ALONE PREVAIL</span></h2> + +<p>Two men occupied the back room of Victor Gagnon’s store. The +proprietor, small, alert, with eye and brain working swiftly, and an expression +on his dark face indicating the angry nature of his thoughts. He was sitting +with his feet on the stove rail and his hands spread out to the warmth. The +other man was beside the parchment-covered window. He was immensely tall, and +was clad in grey wolfskin from head to foot. His broad shoulders were broadened +by the fur covering till he looked a giant. He had just thrown back a cavernous +hood from his head, and it now hung down his back. His fur cap was removed, thus +displaying a coarse mane of long black hair, and a face as sombre and strong as +the world to which he belonged.</p> + +<p>The room was untidy. The bed stood at one end, and the tumbled blankets upon +it looked as though they had not been straightened for weeks. A small table +supported the remains of a frugal meal and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_189'></a>189</span> the floor about it was littered with food and +crumbs. Everywhere were signs of half-breed slovenliness.</p> + +<p>For some moments silence had reigned. The North, that Land of Silence, makes +men sparing of words, and even women only talk when it is necessary. Just now, +there was that between these two men which held every thought to the main +issue.</p> + +<p>Victor’s attention was for the moment upon a rough-hewn chest which was +standing on the floor at the big man’s feet.</p> + +<p>“An’ why didn’t she come right along with you?”</p> + +<p>“Mebbe cos she’s smarter nor any o’ us; mebbe cos I jest +didn’t want her to. There’s somethin’ ’tween you an’ me, +Victor, that needs some parley.”</p> + +<p>The big man spoke quite calmly, but his very calmness was portentous.</p> + +<p>“Smarter?” said Victor contemptuously, ignoring the latter part +of the other’s remark.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I said,” went on the giant, in dispassionate +tones. “Davia reckoned as it wa’n’t jest safe to light right out +lest them fellers found they’d been robbed o’ their wad. She’s +stayin’ around to put ’em off’n the trail. They’re dead sweet +on her an’ ain’t likely to ’spect who’s got the stuff +while she’s around.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span>Victor nodded +approvingly. His face was less angry. He knew Davia would serve him well. A +silence fell again. The stove roared under the forced draught of the damper. +Then the big man spoke as though he had not broken off.</p> + +<p>“But that ain’t on’y the reason, I guess. I wanted her to stay. +You an’ me are goin’ to talk, Victor Gagnon.”</p> + +<p>The trader glanced angrily at the man with the hood.</p> + +<p>“See here, Jean Leblaude, you allus had a crank in yer head, an’ +I don’t cotton to cranks anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ll cotton to this,” replied Jean drily.</p> + +<p>“Eh?”</p> + +<p>“It’s nigh on to three year since you an’ sister +Davi’ took on together,” he went on, ignoring the interruption, and +speaking with great feeling. “Guess you said as you’d marry her when +you was independent o’ the company. It was allus the company. Didn’t +want no married traders on their books. An’ you hadn’t no cash +pappy. That’s how you sed. Mebbe it’s different now. Wal? When are +you goin’ to make her a de–your wife?”</p> + +<p>There was a look in Jean’s eyes that brooked no denial or evasion. He +had driven straight to the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_191'></a>191</span> point, nor was there any likelihood of his drawing +back.</p> + +<p>“You’re pretty rough,” said Victor, with an unpleasant +laugh. He was inwardly raging, but, like all men of no great moral strength, +feared the direct challenge of the other.</p> + +<p>“We ain’t polished folk hereabouts,” retorted Jean. +“We’ve played the dirty game o’ the White Squaw for you’ +clear out. Davi’s most as dead sick of it as me, but wher’ she went +into it fer a frolic an’ to please you, I had my notions, I guess. I come +clear away down from Peace River nigh on two summers ago jest fer to see that +you acted squar’ by that misguided girl. An’ that’s why I done +all your dirty work in this White Squaw racket. Now we’ve got the boodle +you’re goin’ to hitch up wi’ Davi’, or–”</p> + +<p>“Or–what?” broke in Victor contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Or not one blazin’ cent o’ the stuff in this +chest’ll you touch.”</p> + +<p>Victor sprang from his seat and his eyes shone furiously.</p> + +<p>“You–you–” But his fury was baffled by the solemn, +determined stare of the other. A moment more and he dropped back in his +seat.</p> + +<p>Then the great Jean lowered his eyes to the hewn chest upon the floor. The +lid had been forced open <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_192'></a>192</span> and the bags of gold dust, so carefully arranged by +the Westleys, were displayed within. Presently he looked back at the angry +figure bending towards the stove.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll git blankets out o’ your store,” he +said.</p> + +<p>Victor remained rapt in moody silence.</p> + +<p>“Ther’ ain’t room fer two to sleep comfort’ble in that bed +o’ yourn,” he added significantly, as the other showed no +inclination to speak.</p> + +<p>At last Victor looked up and the dark half-breed blood slowly mounted and +flushed his narrow face.</p> + +<p>“You’re goin’ to stop here–wher’ the stuff +is?”</p> + +<p>“I guess.”</p> + +<p>The trader looked long into the cavernous moose-eyes of the Hooded Man while +he choked down the rage which consumed him. He knew that he was a prisoner in +his own store. Resistance would be utterly useless against such a man as Jean +Leblaude.</p> + +<p>In his scheme for obtaining wealth Victor had omitted to take into +consideration one of the great factors of a life of wrong-doing. A man may not +engage in crime with those whom he has wronged.</p> + +<p>Victor had sought to obtain good service, forgetting <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> the manner in which he had treated the +sister of Jean. The ways of the half-breed are loose in the matter of morals. +Davia, he knew, loved him. She was a strong, passionate woman, therefore he had +not bothered about Jean. That Jean could possibly have scruples or feelings, had +never entered his head. Davia had given her love, then what business of her +brother’s was the manner in which he, Victor, chose to accept it? This is +how he argued when he fully realized the position in which he had thrust +himself. But his argument went no further.</p> + +<p>Jean was a man strong and purposeful. He had waited long for such an +opportunity, and he was not the one to forego his advantage without enforcing +his will. If Victor wanted his share of the proceeds of the robbery he must +fulfil the promise, which, in a passionate moment, he had bestowed. Davia was as +clay in his hands. Jean was different. He was possessed of all the cunning of +the half-breed nature, but, looked at from a half-breed point of view, he was a +good man, an honest man. A half-breed will shoot an enemy down in his tracks, +while yet he is a good father and husband, or a dutiful son. He is a man of much +badness and some good. Jean was a little above the average. Possibly it was +because his affections were centred <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_194'></a>194</span> upon but one creature in the world, his sister +Davia, that he felt strongly in her cause. He knew that, at last, he held Victor +in a powerful grip, and he did not intend to relax it.</p> + +<p>Jean was as good as his word and took up his abode in Victor’s store. +Nor would he permit the removal of the treasure under any pretext. This brother +of Davia’s understood the trader; he did not watch him; it was the chest +that contained the money that occupied his vigilance.</p> + +<p>Victor was resourceful and imaginative, but the stolid purpose of the other +defied his best schemes. He meant to get away with the money, but the bulldog +watchfulness of Jean gave him no opportunity. He was held prisoner by his greed, +and it seemed as if, in the end, he would be forced to bend to the other’s +will.</p> + +<p>And no word came from Davia. No word that could cause alarm, or tell them of +the dire tragedy being enacted in the mountains. And the two men, one for ever +scheming and the other watching, passed their time in moody silence.</p> + +<p>It was the third day after the foregoing events had taken place, and midday. +Victor was in the store standing in the doorway gazing out across the mighty +foothills which stretched far as the eyes could reach to the east. He was +thinking, casting <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +about in his mind for a means of getting away with the money. Jean was at his +post in the inner room.</p> + +<p>It was an unbeautiful time of the year. The passing of winter in snow regions +is like the moulting season of fowls, or the season when the furred world sheds +its coat. The dazzling whiteness of the earth is superseded by a dirty +drab-grey. The snow lasts long, but its hue is utterly changed. And now Victor +was looking out upon a scene that was wholly dispiriting to the mind used to the +brilliancy of the northern winter.</p> + +<p>The trader’s thoughts were moving along out over the stretch of country +before him, for in that southeastern direction lay the town of Edmonton, which +was his goal. It would be less than a fortnight before the melting snow would +practically inundate the land, therefore what he had to do must be done at once. +And still no feasible scheme presented itself.</p> + +<p>He moved impatiently and a muttered curse escaped him. He asked himself the +question again and again while his keen, restless eyes moved eagerly over the +scene before him. He took a chew of tobacco and rolled it about in his mouth +with the nervous movement of a man beset. He could hear Jean moving heavily +about the room behind <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_196'></a>196</span> him, and he wondered what he was doing. But he did +not turn to see.</p> + +<p>Once let him get upon the trail with the “stuff,” and Jean and +his sister could go hang. They would never get him, he told himself. He had not +lived in these latitudes for five and twenty years for nothing. But he ever came +back to the pitiful admission that he was not yet on the trail, nor had he got +the treasure. And time was passing.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eyes settled themselves upon a distant spot beyond the creek. +Something had caught his attention, and that something was moving. The sounds of +Jean’s lumbering movements continued. Victor no longer heeded them. His +attention was fixed upon that movement on the distant slope.</p> + +<p>And gradually his brow lightened and something akin to a smile spread over +his features. Then he moved back to his counter, and, procuring a small +calendar, glanced hastily at the date. His look of satisfaction deepened, and +his smile became one of triumph. Surely the devil was with him. Here, in the +blackest moment of his despair, was the means he had sought. Yonder moving +object was the laden dog-train coming up from Edmonton, with his half-yearly +supplies. Now he would see whose wits were the sharpest, his or those of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> pig-headed Jean, +the man who had dared to dictate to Victor Gagnon. The trader laughed +silently.</p> + +<p>Gagnon’s plan had come to him in a flash. The moment he had recognized +that the company’s dog-train was approaching he had realized the +timeliness of its coming. It would be at his door within an hour and a half.</p> + +<p>Jean’s voice calling him broke in upon his meditations. He was about to +pass the summons by unheeded. Then he altered his mind. Better not force his +gaoler to seek him. His eyes might see what he had seen, and his suspicions +might be aroused if he thought that he, Victor, had seen the dog-train coming +and had said nothing. So he turned and obeyed the call with every appearance of +reluctance.</p> + +<p>Jean eyed his prisoner coldly as he drew up beside him.</p> + +<p>“Wal, I’ve waited fer you to say as ye’ll marry +Davi’, an’ ye ain’t had the savvee to wag yer tongue right, +I’m goin’ to quit. The snow’s goin’ fast. They dogs +o’ mine is gettin saft fer want o’ work. I’m goin’ to +light right out o’ here, Victor, an’ the boodle’s goin’ +wi’ me.”</p> + +<p>Jean was the picture of strong, unimaginative purpose. But Victor had that in +his mind which made him bold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_198'></a>198</span>“Ye’ve held me prisoner, Jean. +Ye’ve played the skunk. Guess you ain’t goin’ now. Neither is +my share o’ the contents o’ that chest. Savvee? If ye think o’ +moving that wad we’re goin’ to scrap. I ain’t no +coyote.”</p> + +<p>Jean thought for awhile. His lean face displayed no emotion. His giant figure +dwarfed the trader almost to nothing, but he seemed to weigh the situation well +before he committed himself.</p> + +<p>At last he grunted, which was his way of announcing that his decision was +taken.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have they dogs hitched this afternoon,” he said +slowly, and with meaning.</p> + +<p>“An’ I’ll set right here by the door,” said Gagnon. +“Guess the door’ll let you pass, but it ain’t big enough fer +the chest to git through.”</p> + +<p>Victor sat himself down as he said and deliberately pulled out a large +revolver. This he laid across his lap. And then the two men eyed each other. +Jean was in no way taken aback. In fact nothing seemed to put him out of his +deliberate manner. He allowed the challenge to pass and went out. But he +returned almost immediately and thrust his head in through the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Ther’ won’t be no need fer scrappin’ yet +awhile,” he said. “I ’lows I’ve changed my way o’ +thinkin’. The company’s dog-train is comin’ up <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> the valley, I guess. +When they’ve gone, we’ll see.”</p> + +<p>And Victor smiled to himself when the giant had once more departed. Then he +put his pistol away.</p> + +<p>“Wal, that’s settled,” he said to himself. “The +boodle stops right here. Now we’ll see, Jean Leblaude, who’s +runnin’ this layout. Ther’s whiskey aboard that train. Mebbe you +ain’t like to fergit that. You’ll taste sure. As ye jest sed, +‘we’ll see.’”</p> + +<p>The trader knew his man. The great Jean had all the half-breed’s +weaknesses as well as a more than usual supply of their better qualities. Sober +he was more than dangerous, now that he had shown his real intentions, for he +was a man not likely to be turned from his purpose. But Victor knew his fondness +for drink, and herein lay the kernel of his plan. With him it was a case of now +or never. He must throw everything to the winds for that money, or be burdened +with a wife he did not want, and a brother-in-law he wanted less, with only a +third of that which his greedy heart thirsted for. No, he would measure swords +with Jean, and though his blade was less stout than that of the stolid giant he +relied upon its superior keenness and lightness. He meant to win.</p> + +<p>The company’s dog-train came up. Two sleds, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> each hauled by ten great huskies. They +were laden down with merchandise: groceries, blankets, implements, medicines and +a supply of spirits, for medicinal purposes only. Just the usual freight which +comes to every trader in the wild. Such stuff as trappers and Indians need and +are willing to take in part payment for their furs. But Victor only cared for +the supply of spirits just then. He paid unusual attention, however, to the +condition of the dogs.</p> + +<p>The train was escorted by two half-breeds, one driving each sled. These were +experienced hands, servants who had grown old in the service of the company. Men +whose responsibility began when they hit the trail, and ceased when they arrived +at their destination.</p> + +<p>Pierre was a grizzled veteran, and his was the charge of the journey. Ambrose +was his assistant. Victor understood these men, and made no delay in displaying +his hospitality when the work of unloading was completed. A ten-gallon keg of +Hudson’s Bay Rum was part of the consignment, and this was tapped at once +by the wily trader.</p> + +<p>The four men were gathered in the back room of the store when Victor turned +on the tap and the thick brown stream gurgled forth from the cask. He poured out +a tot for each of the train <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_201'></a>201</span> drivers. Then he stood uncertainly and looked over +at Jean. The latter had seated himself over against the stove and appeared to +take little interest in what was going on. Victor stood with one foot tapping +the floor impatiently. He had been quick to notice that Jean’s great eyes +had stolen in the direction of the little oaken keg. At last he threw the tin +beaker aside as if in disgust. He played his part consummately.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t no go, boys. I’m not drinkin’. Thet’s +what. Look at him,” he cried, pointing at Jean. “We’ve had +words, I guess. Him an’ me, an’ he’s that riled as he +don’t notion suppin’ good thick rum wi’ us. Wal, I guess +it’ll keep, what you boys can’t do in. Ther’s the pannikin, +ther’s the keg. Jest help yourselves, lads, when you fancy. I ain’t +tastin’ with bad blood runnin’ in this shack.”</p> + +<p>“What, no drink?” cried old Pierre, his face beaming with oily +geniality. “Dis no lak ole time, Victor. What’s de fuss? Mebbe I +tink right. Squaw, Vic, squaw.”</p> + +<p>The old boy chuckled heartily at his pleasantry. He was a French-Canadian +half-breed and spoke with a strong foreign accent. Ambrose joined in the +laugh.</p> + +<p>“Ho, Jean, man,” cried the latter. “No bad <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> blood, I’m +guessin’. Ther’s good thick rum, lad, an’ I mind you’re +a’mighty partial most gener’ly.”</p> + +<p>Victor had started the ball rolling, and he knew that neither Pierre nor +Ambrose were likely to let it rest until they had had all the rum they wanted. +Everything had been made snug for the night so they only had their own pleasure +to consider. As Ambrose’s challenge fell upon his ears Jean looked up. His +eyes were very bright and they rested longingly upon the keg on their way to the +driver’s face. He shook his head, but there was not much decision in the +movement.</p> + +<p>Pierre seeing the action stepped up to him and shook a warning finger in his +face.</p> + +<p>“Hey, you, Jean-le-gros, pig-head. We come lak Hell, four hundred mile +to see you. We bring you drink, everyting. You not say ‘How.’ We not +welcome. Bah, I spit! In my Quebec we lak our frien’s to come. We treat. +All is theirs. Bah, I spit again.”</p> + +<p>Jean looked slightly abashed. Then Ambrose chimed in.</p> + +<p>“Out of the durned way, froggy,” he said, swinging Pierre aside +by the shoulder, “you don’t understand our ways, I guess. +Ther’ ain’t no slobberin’ wi’ white folk. Here you, Vic, +hold out yer hand, man, and shake wi’ Jean. We’re goin’ <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> to hev a time to-night, +or I’ll quit the road for ever.”</p> + +<p>Victor shrugged. Then he picked up a pannikin and filled it with rum. He held +it out in his left hand towards Jean while he offered his right in token of +friendship. Jean eyed the outstretched hand. Then he looked at the rum, and the +insidious odour filled his nostrils. The temptation was too great, as Victor +knew it would be, for him. He thrust one great hand into the trader’s and +the two men shook; then he took the drink and gulped it down.</p> + +<p>The armistice was declared, and Victor, in imagination, already saw the +treasure his.</p> + +<p>Now the pannikin passed round merrily. The room reeked with the pungent odour +of the spirit and all was apparently harmonious. Victor resigned his post as +dispenser of liquor to Ambrose, and began his series of stock entertainments. He +drank as little as possible himself, though he could not openly shirk his drink, +and he always kept one eye upon Jean to see that he was well supplied; and so +the time slipped by.</p> + +<p>After the first taste Jean became a different man; he laughed and jested in +his slow, coarse fashion, and, with him, all seemed good-fellowship. Pierre and +Ambrose soon began to get drunk and Victor’s <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> voice, as he sang, was mostly drowned +by the rolling tones of these hoary-headed old sinners as they droned out the +choruses of his songs.</p> + +<p>Now, as the merriment waxed, Victor was able to shirk his drink deliberately. +Jean seemed insatiable, and soon his great body swayed in a most drunken +fashion, and he clung to his seat as if fearing to trust his legs. He joined in +every chorus and never lost an opportunity of addressing Victor in terms of +deepest friendliness. And in every pause in the noise he seized upon the chance +to burst out into some wild ditty of his own. Victor watched with cat-like +vigilance, and what he saw pleased him mightily. Jean was drunk. And he would +see to it that before he had done the giant would be hopelessly so.</p> + +<p>Evening came on. Ambrose was the first to collapse. The others laughed and +left him to his deep dreamless slumber upon the floor. Victor was wearied of it +all, but he knew he must see the game out. Jean’s eyelids were drooping +heavily, and he, too, seemed on the verge of collapse. Only old Pierre, hardened +to the ways of his life, flagged not. Suddenly the Frenchman saw Jean’s +head droop forward. In a moment he was on his unsteady legs and filling a +pannikin to the brim. He laughed as he drew Victor’s attention, and the +latter <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> nodded +approval. Then he put it to the giant’s lips. The big man supped a little +of it, then, his head falling further forward, he upset the pannikin, and the +contents poured upon the earthen floor. At the same time, as though utterly +helpless, he rolled off his seat and fell to the ground, snoring heavily. Pierre +shouted his delight. Only Victor and he were left. They knew how to take their +liquor, the old hands. His pride of achievement was great. He would see Victor +under the table, too, he told himself. He stood over the trader while the latter +drank a bumper. Then he, himself, drank to the dregs. It was the last straw. He +swayed and lurched to the outer door. There he stood for a moment, then the cold +night air did for him what the rum had been powerless to do. Without warning he +fell in a heap upon the doorstep as unconscious as though he had been struck +dead.</p> + +<p>Victor alone kept his head.</p> + +<p>The trader rose from his seat and stretched himself. Then, stealthily, he +went the round of the prostrate men. He shook Ambrose, but could not wake him. +Jean he stood over for awhile and silently watched the stern face. There was not +a shade of consciousness in its expression. He bent down and touched him. Still +no movement. He <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +shook him gently, then more roughly. He was like a log. Victor grinned with a +fiendish leer.</p> + +<p>“Guess he’s fixed,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>Then he went out into the store and came to the door where old Pierre had +fallen. The Frenchman was no better than the others.</p> + +<p>“Good! By Gar, Jean, my friend, I’ve done you,” he said to +himself, as, reassured, he went back to the inner room. He was none too steady +himself, but he had all his wits about him. The chest was near the bed. He +picked it up and opened it. The treasure was there safe enough. He closed the +lid and took it up in his arms, and passed out of the store. Nor did he look +back. He was anxious to be gone.</p> + +<p>It was the chance of his lifetime, he told himself, as he hastened to deposit +the chest in the sled. Now he set about obtaining his blankets and provisions. +His journey would be an arduous one, and nobody knew better than he the +barrenness of that Northwestern land while the icy grip of winter still clings. +A large quantity of the food stuffs which had only arrived that day was returned +to the sled, and some of the new blankets. Then he shipped a rifle and +ammunition.</p> + +<p>Now was the trader to be seen in his true light. Here was emergency, when all +veneer fell from <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +him as the green coat of summer falls from the trees at the first breath of +winter. His haste was not the swift movements of a man whose nerve is steady. He +knew that he had at least twelve hours before any one of the three men were +likely to awaken from their drunken stupor. And yet he feared. Nor did he know +what he feared. And his nerves made him savage as he handled the dogs. They were +living creatures and could feel, so he wantonly belted them with a club lest +they should hesitate to obey their new master. The great wolfish creatures had +more courage than he had; they took the unjust treatment without open complaint, +as is the way of the husky, tacitly resenting it and eying with fierce, +contemptuous eyes the cowardly wretch who so treated them. They slunk slowly and +with down-drooped tails and bristling manes into their places in the traces, and +stood ready for the word to pull. Victor surveyed them with little satisfaction, +for now that all was ready to march he was beset with moral apprehensions.</p> + +<p>He could not throw off his dread. It may have been that he feared that bleak +four hundred mile journey. It may have been the loneliness which he +contemplated. It may have been that he recollected the time when those whom he +had robbed had saved him from the storm, away back there in <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> the heart of the mountains. He +shivered, and started at every night-sound that broke the stillness.</p> + +<p>The lead dog lay down in the sloppy snow. Victor flew into a passion, and, +running forward, dealt the poor brute a kick that would have been sufficient to +break an ordinary dog’s ribs. With a wicked snarl the beast rose solemnly +to its feet. Suddenly its wolf-ears pricked and it stared out keenly ahead. The +man looked too. It seemed to him that he had heard the sound of some one +walking. He gazed long and earnestly out into the darkness, but all seemed quite +still. He looked at the dog again. Its ears were still pricked, but they were +twitching uncertainly, as though not sure of the direction whence the sound had +come.</p> + +<p>Victor cursed the brute and moved back to the sled. The word +“Mush” was hovering on his lips. Suddenly his eyes chanced upon the +slumbering form of old Pierre lying in a heap where he had fallen in the +doorway. It is impossible to say what made him pause to give a second thought to +those he was leaving behind. He had known Pierre for years, and had always been +as friendly as his selfish, cruel nature would permit. Perhaps some such feeling +now made him hesitate. It might even have been his knowledge of the wild that +made him view <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> the +helpless figure with some concern. The vagaries of human nature are remarkable. +Something held him, then he turned quickly from the sled, and stepping up to the +old man’s side, stooped, and putting his arms about him, dragged him +bodily into the store. Pierre did not rouse but remained quite still where +Victor left him. Then the trader went out again. His back was turned as he +reached to close the door. It would not quite shut and he pulled it hard. Then, +as it still resisted his efforts, he turned away. As he turned he reeled back +with a great cry.</p> + +<p>Something large and dark faced him. And, even in the darkness, he could make +out a shining ring of metal close in front of his face.</p> + +<p>Victor’s horror-stricken cry was the only sound that came. In the +twinkling of an eye the metal ring disappeared. Victor felt two bony hands seize +him by the throat. The next instant he was hurled to the ground, and a knee was +upon his chest. A weight compressed his lungs and he could scarcely breathe. +Then he felt the revolver belt dragged from about his waist and his long +sheath-knife withdrawn from its sheath. Then, and not till then, the pressure on +his chest relaxed, and the hand that had gripped his throat released its hold. +The next moment he was lifted to his feet as though he were <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> a mere puppet, and the voice of Jean +Leblaude broke harshly upon his ears.</p> + +<p>“Guess your bluff wa’n’t wuth a cent, Victor Gagnon. I +see’d this comin’ the minit you pass’d me the drink. I ’lows +ye ken mostly tell a skunk by the stink. I rec’nized you awhiles back. Guess you +ain’t lightin’ out o’ here this night. Come right +along.”</p> + +<p>The trader had no choice. Jean had him foul, gripping him with a clutch that +was vise-like. The giant’s great strength was irresistible when put forth +in the deadly earnestness of passion, and just now he could hardly hold his hand +from breaking the neck which was so slight beneath his sinewy fingers.</p> + +<p>Just for one instant Victor made a faint struggle. As well attempt to resist +Doom. Jean shook him like a rat and thrust him before him in the direction of +the woods behind the store.</p> + +<p>“You’ll pay fer this,” the trader said, between his +teeth.</p> + +<p>But Jean gave no heed to his impotent rage. He pushed him along in silence, +nor did he pause till the secret huts were reached. He opened the door of one +and dragged his captive in. There was no light within. But this seemed no +embarrassment to the purposeful man. He strode straight over <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> to one corner of the +room and took a long, plaited lariat from the wall. In three minutes Victor was +trussed and laid upon the ground bound up like a mummy.</p> + +<p>Now Jean lighted a lamp and looked down at his victim; there was not the +faintest sign of drink about him, and as Victor noticed this he cursed himself +bitterly.</p> + +<p>There was an impressive silence. Then Jean’s words came slowly. He +expressed no emotion, no passion; just the purpose of a strong man who moves +relentlessly on to his desired end.</p> + +<p>Gagnon realized to the full the calamity which had befallen him.</p> + +<p>“Ye’ll wait right here till Davi’ gits back. She’s +goin’ to git her ears full o’ you, I guess. Say, she was sweet on +you–mighty sweet. But she’s that sensible as it don’t worry +any. Say, you ain’t goin’ to marry that gal; ye never meant to. +You’re a skunk, an’ I’d as lief choke the life out o’ ye +as not. But I’m goin’ to pay ye sorer than that. Savvee? Ye’ll +bide here till Davi’ comes. I’ll jest fix this wedge in your mouth +till I’ve cleared them drivers out o’ the store. I don’t fancy +to hear your lungs exercisin’ when I’m busy.”</p> + +<p>With easy deftness Jean gagged his prisoner. Then he glanced round the +windowless shack to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_212'></a>212</span> see if there was any weapon or other thing about +that could possibly assist the trader to free himself. Having assured himself +that all was safe he put out the light and passed out, securing the door behind +him.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /><span class='h2fs'>OUT ON THE NORTHLAND TRAIL</span></h2> + +<p>Noon, the following day, saw the dog-train depart on its homeward journey. +The way of it was curious and said much for the simplicity of these “old +hands” of the northland trail. They were giants of learning in all +pertaining to their calling; infants in everything that had to do with the world +of men.</p> + +<p>Thus Jean Leblaude’s task was one of no great difficulty. It was +necessary that he should throw dust in their eyes. And such a dust storm he +raised about their simple heads that they struck the trail utterly blinded to +the events of the previous night.</p> + +<p>While they yet slumbered Jean had freed the dogs from their traces, and +unloaded the sled which bore the treasure-chest. He had restored everything to +its proper place; and so he awaited the coming of the morning. He did not sleep; +he watched, ready for every emergency.</p> + +<p>When, at last, the two men stirred he was at <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_214'></a>214</span> hand. Rolling Pierre over he shook him violently +till the old man sat up, staring about him in a daze. A beaker of rum was thrust +against his parched lips, and he drank greedily. The generous spirit warmed the +Frenchman’s chilled body and roused him. Then Jean performed the same +merciful operation upon Ambrose, and the two unrepentant sinners were on their +legs again, with racking heads, and feeling very ill.</p> + +<p>But Jean cared nothing for their sufferings; he wanted to be rid of them. He +gave them no chance to question him; not that they had any desire to do so, in +fact it was doubtful if they fully realized anything that was happening. And he +launched into his carefully considered story.</p> + +<p>“Victor’s gone up to the hills ’way back ther’,” he +said. “Ther’s been a herd o’ moose come down, from the +moose-yard, further north, an’ he’s after their pelts. Say, he left +word fer you to git right on loadin’ the furs, an’ when ye hit the +trail ye’re to take three bottles o’ the Rye, an’ some +o’ the rum. He says he ain’t like to be back fer nigh on three +days.”</p> + +<p>And while he was speaking the two men supped their coffee, and, as they +moistened their parched and burning throats, they nodded assent to all Jean had +to say. At that moment Victor, or any one <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_215'></a>215</span> else, might go hang. All they thought of was the +awful thirst that assailed them.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, the work of loading the sleds proceeded with the utmost +dispatch. Thus it was that at noon, without question, without the smallest +suspicion of the night’s doings, they set out for the weary “long +trail.”</p> + +<p>Jean saw them go. He stood at the door of the store and watched them until +they disappeared behind the rising ground of the great Divide. Then his solemn +eyes turned away indifferently, and he gazed out into the hazy distance. His +gaunt face showed nothing of what was passing in the brain behind it. He rarely +displayed emotion of any sort. The Indian blood in his veins preponderated, and +much of the stoical calm of the Redskin was his. Now he could wait, undisturbed, +for the return of Davia. He felt that he had mastered the situation. He could +not make Victor marry the sister he had wronged, but at least he could pay off +the wrong in his own way, and to his entire satisfaction. Two years he had +waited for the adjustment of these matters. He was glad that he had exercised +patience. He might have slain Victor a hundred times over, but he had refrained, +vainly hoping to see his sister righted. Besides, he knew that Davia had loved +Victor, and women are peculiar. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_216'></a>216</span> Who might say but that she would have fled from the +murderer of her lover? Jean felt well satisfied on the whole. So he stood +thinking and waiting with a calm mind.</p> + +<p>But the tragedy was working itself out in a manner little suspected, little +expected, by him. This he was soon to learn.</p> + +<p>The grey spring snow spread itself out on every hand, only was the wood-lined +hill, which stretched away to the right and left of him, and behind the hut, +bare of the wintry pall. The sky was brilliant in contrast with the greyness of +the world beneath it, and the sun shone high in the blue vault. Everywhere was +the deadly calm of the Silent North. The presence of any moving forest beast in +that brooding picture, however distant, must surely have caught the eye. There +was not a living thing to be seen. These woful wastes have much to do with the +rugged nature of those who dwell in the north.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the whole prospect seemed to be electrified with a thrill of life. +The change came with a swift movement of the man’s quiet eyes. Nothing had +really altered in the picture, nothing had appeared, and yet that swift flash of +the eyes had brought a suggestion of something which broke up the solitude as +though it had never been.</p> + +<p>Awhile, and his attention became fixed upon the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> long line of woods to the right. Then +his ears caught a slight but distinct sound. He stood away from the doorway, +and, shading his eyes from the sunlight, looked keenly along the dark shadow of +the woods. No wolf or fox could have keener instinct than had this man. A sound +of breaking brush, but so slight that it probably would have passed unheeded by +any other, had told him that some one approached through these woods.</p> + +<p>He waited.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was movement in the shadow. The next moment a figure stepped +out into the open. A figure, dressed in beaded buckskin and blanket clothing. It +was Davia.</p> + +<p>She came in haste, yet wearily. She looked slight and drooping in her mannish +garments, while the pallor of her drawn face was intense. She came up to where +Jean stood and would have fallen but for his support. Her journey had been rapid +and long, and she was utterly weary of body.</p> + +<p>“Quick, let’s git inside,” she cried, in a choking voice. +Then she added hysterically: “He’s on the trail.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Jean led her into the house, and she flung herself into a +seat. A little whiskey put new life into her and the colour came back to <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> her face. She was +strong, a woman bred to hardship and toil.</p> + +<p>Jean waited; then he put a question with characteristic abruptness.</p> + +<p>“Who’s on the trail?”</p> + +<p>“Who? Nick Westley. He’s comin’ for blood! Victor’s +blood!” Then Davia sprang to her feet with a look of wild alarm upon her +beautiful face. “He’s killed his brother!” she added. +“He’s mad–ravin’ mad.”</p> + +<p>The man did not move a muscle. Only his eyes darkened as he heard the +announcement.</p> + +<p>“Mad,” he said, thoughtfully. “An’ he’s +comin’ fer Victor. Wal?”</p> + +<p>Davia sat up. Her brother’s calmness had a soothing effect upon +her.</p> + +<p>“Listen, an’ I’ll tell you.”</p> + +<p>And she told the story of the mountain tragedy, and the manner in which she +watched the madman’s subsequent actions until he set out for the store. +And the story lost none of its intense horror in her telling.</p> + +<p>Jean listened unemotionally and with a judicial air. Only his eyes shoved +that he was in any way moved.</p> + +<p>When she had finished he asked her, “An’ when’ll he git +here?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_219'></a>219</span>“Can’t say,” came the swift reply. +“Maybe to-night; maybe in an hour; maybe right now. He’s big +an’ strong, an’–an’ he’s mad, I know it.” +And a shudder of apprehension passed over her frame.</p> + +<p>“Fer Victor? Sure?” Jean asked again presently, like a man +weighing up a difficult problem.</p> + +<p>“Sure. He don’t know you, nor me, at this layout. Ther’s +only Victor. I guess I don’t know how he figgered it, he’s that +crazy, but it’s Victor he’s layin’ fer, sure. Say, I saw him +sling his gun an’ his ‘six.’ An’ his belt was heavy with +ammunition. I reckon ther’s jest one thing fer us to do when a crazy man +gits around with a gun. It’s time to light out. Wher’s +Victor?” And her eyes fell upon the treasure-chest.</p> + +<p>“Him an’ me’s changed places. He’s back +ther’.” Jean jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the huts +in the wood.</p> + +<p>Davia was on her feet in an instant and her eyes sparkled angrily.</p> + +<p>“What d’ye mean, Jean?”</p> + +<p>The man shrugged. But his words came full of anger.</p> + +<p>“He didn’t mean marryin’ ye.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” The blue eyes fairly blazed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span>“The +boodle,” with a glance in the direction of the treasure. “He was fer +jumpin’ the lot.”</p> + +<p>“Hah! An’–?”</p> + +<p>And Jean told his story. And after that a silence fell.</p> + +<p>“It’s cursed–it’s blood-money!” Davia’s +voice was hoarse with emotion as she said the words.</p> + +<p>Jean started.</p> + +<p>“We’re goin’ to git,” he said slowly. And he looked +into the woman’s eyes as though he would read her very soul.</p> + +<p>“An’ Victor?” said Davia harshly.</p> + +<p>“Come, we’ll go to him.”</p> + +<p>At the door Davia was seized with an overwhelming terror. She gripped +Jean’s arm forcefully while she peered along the woodland fringe. The man +listened.</p> + +<p>“Let’s git on quick,” Davia whispered. And her mouth was +dry with her terror.</p> + +<p>They found Victor as Jean had left him. The prisoner looked up when the door +opened. His eyes brightened at the sight of the woman.</p> + +<p>No word was spoken for some moments. In that silence a drama was swiftly +working itself out. Victor was calculating his chances. Davia was thinking in a +loving woman’s unreasoning fashion. And Jean was watching both. At last +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> the giant stooped +and removed the gag from his captive’s mouth. The questioning eyes of +Victor Gagnon looked from one to the other and finally rested upon Davia.</p> + +<p>“Wal?” he said.</p> + +<p>And Davia turned to Jean.</p> + +<p>“Loose him!” she said imperiously.</p> + +<p>And Jean knew that trouble had come for his plans. He shook his head. The +glance of Victor’s eyes as they turned upon Jean was like the edge of a +super-sharpened knife. The trader knew that a crisis had arrived. Which was the +stronger of these two, the brother or the sister? He waited.</p> + +<p>“What are you goin’ to do with him?” Davia asked.</p> + +<p>She could scarcely withhold the anger which had risen within her.</p> + +<p>But Jean did not answer; he was listening to a strange sound which came to +him through the open door. Suddenly he stooped again and began to readjust the +rope that held his prisoner. He secured hands and feet together in a manner from +which Victor was not likely to free himself easily; and yet from which it was +possible for him to get loose. Davia followed his movements keenly. At last the +giant rose; his task was completed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_222'></a>222</span>“Now,” he said, addressing them both. +“Say your says–quick.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t leavin’ him here,” said the woman, looking +squarely into her brother’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“That’s so.”</p> + +<p>A strange light leapt into Davia’s eyes. Jean saw it and went on with a +frown.</p> + +<p>“I’m easy, dead easy; but I guess I’ve had enough. +He’ll shift fer himself. If he’d ’a’ acted straight +ther’d ’a’ been no call fer me to step in. He didn’t. He +ain’t settin’ you right, Davi’; he can’t even act the +thief decent. He’d ’a’ robbed you an’ me, an’ left +you what you are. Wal, my way goes.”</p> + +<p>Then he turned to Victor and briefly told him Davia’s story of the +mountain tragedy. As he came to the climax the last vestige of the +trader’s insolence vanished. Nick was on his way to the store armed +and–mad. Panic seized upon the listener. His bravado had ever been but the +veneer of the surface. His condition returned to the subversive terror which had +assailed him when he was caught in the mountain blizzard.</p> + +<p>“Now, see you here, Victor,” Jean concluded coldly, yet watching +the effect he had produced. “Ye owe us a deal more’n ye ken pay +easy, but I’m fixin’ the reckonin’ my way. We’re +goin’, an’ <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_223'></a>223</span> the boodle goes wi’ us. Savvee?” Davia +watched her brother acutely. Nor could she help noticing that the great man was +listening while he spoke. “I ’lows you’ll git free o’ this +rope. I mean ye to–after awhiles. Ye’ll keep y’r monkey tricks till +after we’re clear o’ here. Then ye’ll do best to go dead easy. +Fer that crank’s comin’ right along, an’, I ’lows, if I was +you I’d as lief lie here and rot, an’ feed the gophers wi’ my +carcass as run up agin him. I tell ye, pard, ther’s a cuss hangin’ +around wher’ Nick Westley goes, an’ I don’t reckon it’s +like to work itself out easy by a big sight.”</p> + +<p>Jean finished up with profound emphasis. Then he turned about and faced his +sister.</p> + +<p>“Now, gal, we’re goin’.”</p> + +<p>“Not while Victor’s left here.”</p> + +<p>Jean stood quite still for a moment. Then his rage suddenly broke forth.</p> + +<p>“Not while that skunk’s left?” he cried, pointing +scornfully at the prostrate man. “Ye’d stop here fer him as has +shamed ye; him as ’ud run from ye this minit if he had the chance; him as ’ud +rob ye too; him as thinks as much to ye as a coyote. Slut y’ are, but +y’ are my sister, an’ I say ye shall go wi’ me.”</p> + +<p>He made a step towards her. Then he brought <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_224'></a>224</span> up to a halt as the long blade of a knife gleamed +before his eyes. But he only hesitated a second. His great hand went out, and he +caught the woman’s wrist as she was about to strike. The next instant he +had wrenched the weapon from her grasp and held her.</p> + +<p>Now he thrust her out of the hut and secured the door. He believed that what +he had done was only right.</p> + +<p>As they passed out into the bright spring daylight again a change seemed to +come over Davia. Her terror of Nick Westley returned as she noted the alert +attitude of her brother. She listened too, and held her breath to intensify her +hearing. But Jean did not relax his hold upon her till they were once more +within the store. Then he set her to assist in the preparations for their +flight. When all was ready, and they stood outside the house while Jean secured +the door, Davia made a final appeal.</p> + +<p>“Let me stop, Jean,” she cried, while a sob broke from her. +“I love him. He’s mine.”</p> + +<p>“God’s curse on ye, no!” came the swift response, and the +man’s eyes blazed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a long-drawn cry rose upon the air. It reached a great pitch and +died lingeringly away. It was near by and told its tale. And the woman <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> shuddered involuntarily. +It was the wolf cry of the mountains; the cry of the human. And, as if in +answer, came a chorus from wolfish throats. The last moment had come.</p> + +<p>Davia caught Jean’s arm as though seeking protection.</p> + +<p>“I will go,” she cried, and the man took her answer to be a final +submission.</p> + +<p>The stillness of the day had passed. Life thrilled the air although no life +was visible. Davia’s fear was written in her face, Jean’s expression +was inscrutable; only was it sure that he listened.</p> + +<p>But Jean was not without the superstitious dread which madness inspires. And +as they raced, he bearing the burden of the treasure-chest, for the wood-covered +banks of the creek, he was stirred to horror by the familiar sounds that pursued +him. It was their coming, at that time, in daylight; and in answer to the human +cry that had first broken up the silence of the hills. How came it that the +legions of the forest were marching in the wake of that other upon the valley of +Little Choyeuse Creek?</p> + +<p>Jean halted when they stood upon the rotten ice of the creek. Now he released +his sister, and they stood facing each other well screened from view from the +store.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span>The sullen peace +of the valley had merged into the deep-toned, continuous howl of hoarse throats. +A terrible threat was in the sound. Jean unslung his rifle and looked to his +pistol.</p> + +<p>“Ther’s six in this gun,” he said deliberately. “Five +of ’em is fer them beasties, if ne’sary. The other’s fer you if you +git playin’ tricks. Mebbe ye’ll thank me later fer what I’m +doin’. It don’t cut no figger anyway.”</p> + +<p>Then he prodded the ice with his iron-shod staff.</p> + +<p>Davia watched him while she listened to the din of the forest world. At +length the staff had beaten its way to the water below.</p> + +<p>“What are ye doin’?” she asked, quite suddenly.</p> + +<p>And Jean’s retort was a repetition of her own words.</p> + +<p>“It’s cursed–it’s blood-money!”</p> + +<p>She took his meaning, and her cupidity cried out in revolt. But her protest +was useless.</p> + +<p>“You’re not goin’–” she began.</p> + +<p>“It goes,” cried Jean fiercely, “wher’ he ain’t +like to touch it, ’less Hell gits him. Father Lefleur, at the mission, says as +gold’s Hell’s pavin’, an’ mebbe this’ll git back +wher’ it come.” And with vengeful force he threw back the lid of the +chest.</p> + +<p>Davia’s eyes expressed more than any words could have told. She stood +silently by, a mute but <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_227'></a>227</span> eloquent protest, while Jean took the bags of gold +dust one by one from the chest, and poured their contents into the water below. +When the last bag was emptied he took the packet of bills and fingered them +gently. Even his purpose seemed to be shaken by the seductive feel of the +familiar paper. Suddenly he thrust them into the hole, and his staff thrust +viciously at them as he pushed them under the ice where they would quickly rot. +It was done.</p> + +<p>“Mebbe the water’ll wash the blood off’n it,” he exclaimed. +“Mebbe.”</p> + +<p>Davia’s eyes looked derisively upon the giant figure as he straightened +himself up. She could not understand.</p> + +<p>But her look changed to one of horror a moment later, as above the cries of +the forest rose the inhuman note of the madman. Both recognized it, and the +dreadful tone gripped their hearts. Jean leant forward, and seizing the woman by +the arm dragged her off the ice to the cover of the bush.</p> + +<p>With hurried strides they made their way through the leafless branches, until +they stood where, themselves well under cover, they had a view of the store.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /><span class='h2fs'>WHO SHALL FATHOM THE DEPTHS OF A WOMAN’S LOVE?</span></h2> + +<p>The dull woods look black in the bright sunlight; and beyond, and above, the +crystal of the eternal snow gleams with appalling whiteness. No touch of spring +can grey those barren, everlasting fields, where foot of man has never trod, and +no warmth can penetrate to the rock-bound earth beneath.</p> + +<p>All the world seems to be reaching to the sky vault above. Everything is +vast; only is the work of human hands puny.</p> + +<p>Thus the old log storehouse of Victor Gagnon, now shut up like a deserted +fort of older days, without its stockade, is less than a terrier’s kennel +set at the door of a giant’s castle. And yet it breaks up the solitude so +that something of the savage magnificence is gone. The forest cries echo and +reëcho, and, to human ears, the savage din is full of portentous meaning, but it +is lost beyond the confines of the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_229'></a>229</span> valley; and the silent guardians of the peaks above +sleep on undisturbed.</p> + +<p>A mighty flock of water-fowl speeding their way, droop downwards, with +craning necks, at the unusual sounds, to watch the stealing creatures moving at +the edge of the woods. The fox, hungering as he always hungers, foremost, lest +other scavengers, like himself, shall steal the prize he seeks; a troupe of +broad-antlered deer racing headlong down the valley; shaggy wolves, grey or red, +lurking within the shadow, as though fearing the open daylight, or perhaps him +whose voice has summoned them; these things they see, but their meaning is lost +to the feathered wanderers, as they wing their way onward.</p> + +<p>The cry of the human floats over the tree-tops and beats itself out upon the +solemn hillsides. It has in it a deep-toned note of invitation to the fierce +denizens of the forest. A note which they cannot resist; and they answer it, and +come from hill and valley, gathering, gathering, with hungry bellies and +frothing jowls.</p> + +<p>Driving his way through close-growing bush comes the unkempt figure of a man. +A familiar figure, but so changed as to be hardly recognizable. His clothes are +rent and scored by the horny branches. His feet crush noisily over the +pine-cones <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> in +moccasins that have rotted from his feet with the journey over melting snow and +sodden vegetation. There is a quivering fire burning in his eyes, an uncertain +light, like the sun’s reflections upon rippling water. He looks neither +this way nor that, yet his eyes seem to be flashing in all directions at once. +The bloody scar upon his cheek is dreadful to look upon, for it has scarce begun +to heal, and the cold has got into it. He is armed, as Davia had said, this +strange horrific figure, and at intervals his head is thrown back to give tongue +to his wolfish cry. It almost seems as if the Spirit of the Forest has claimed +him.</p> + +<p>He journeys on through the twilit gloom. The horror of the life gathered +about him is no more grim than is the condition of his witless brain. Over hills +and through brakes; in valleys and along winding tracks made by the forest +lords; now pushing his way through close-growing scrub, now passing like a +fierce shadow among the bare, primeval tree-trunks, he moves forward. His goal +is ahead, and one instinct, one desire, urges him onward. He knows nought of his +surroundings, he sees nought. His chaotic brain is aware only of its mad +purpose.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the bush parts. There stands the store of Victor Gagnon in the +bright light of day. Swift <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_231'></a>231</span> to the door he speeds, but pauses as he finds it +locked. The pause is brief. A shot from his pistol shatters the lock, the door +flies open at his touch, and he passes within. Then follows a cry that has in it +the tone of a baffled creature robbed of its prey; it is like the night cry of +the puma that shrinks at the blaze of the camp-fire; it is fierce, terrible. The +house is empty.</p> + +<p>But the cunning of the madman does not desert him. He sets out to search, +peering here, there, and everywhere. As the moments pass, and no living thing is +to be seen within, his anger rises like a fierce summer storm. He stands in the +centre of the store which is filled with a disordered array of stuffs. His eyes +light upon the wooden trap which opens upon the cellar where Victor stores his +skins. Once more the fire flares up in his dreadful eyes. An oil-lamp is upon a +shelf. He dashes towards it, and soon its dull, yellow flame sheds its feeble +rays about. He stoops and prises up the heavy square of wood. Below sees the top +rungs of a rough ladder. His poor brain is incapable of argument and with a +fierce joy he clambers down into the dank, earthy atmosphere of the cellar.</p> + +<p>All is silent again except for the shuffling of his almost bare feet upon the +uneven ladder. The last <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_232'></a>232</span> rung is gone, and he drops heavily to the ground. +Then, for awhile, silence reigns.</p> + +<p>During that silence there comes a figure stealing round the angle at the back +of the building. It is a slight, dark figure, and it moves with extreme caution. +There is a look on the narrow face which is one of superstitious horror. It is +Victor Gagnon escaped from his prison, and he advances haltingly, for he has +seen the approach of his uncanny visitor, and he knows not what to do. His +inclination is to flee, yet is he held fascinated. He advances no further than +the front angle of the building, where he stands shaking with nervous +apprehension.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he hears a cry that is half-stifled by distance, for it comes from +the depths of the cellar within. Then follows a metallic clatter of something +falling, which, in turn, is followed again by a cry that is betwixt a fierce +exclamation of joy and a harsh laugh. A foreboding wrings the heart of the +half-breed trader.</p> + +<p>Now he listens with every sense aiding him, and a strange sound comes to his +ears. It is a sound like the rushing of water or the sighing of the wind through +the skeleton branches of forest-trees. It grows louder, and, in its midst, he +hears the stumbling of feet within the house. Something, he knows <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> not what, makes him look +about him fearfully, but he remains at his post. He dare not move.</p> + +<p>At last he thrusts his head forward and peers round the corner so that he has +a full view of the door. Then he learns the meaning of the sound he has heard. +Great clouds of smoke are belching through the opening, and are rolling heavily +away upon the chill, scented air. His jaws come together, his breath catches, +and a look that is the expression of a mind distracted leaps into his eyes. He +knows that his store is on fire. He does not leave his lurking-place, for he +knows that there is no means of staying the devouring flames. Besides, the man +must still be within. Yes, he is certainly still within the building, for he can +hear him.</p> + +<p>The cries of the wild come up from the forest but Victor no longer heeds +them. The hiss and crackle of the burning house permeate his brain. His eyes +watch the smoke with a dreadful fascination. He cannot think, he can only watch, +and he is gripped by a more overwhelming terror than ever.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a fringe of flame pursues the smoke from the door. It leaps, and +rushes up the woodwork of the thatch above and shoots along to the pitch of the +roof. The rapidity of the mighty tongues is appalling. Still the man is within +the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> building, for +Victor can hear his voice as he talks and laughs at the result of his +handiwork.</p> + +<p>The madman’s voice rises high above the roar of the flames. The fire +seems to have driven him to the wildest pitch of insensate excitement, and +Victor begins to wonder what the end will be.</p> + +<p>A moment later he hears distant words come from the burning house. They come +in a shout that is like the roar of some wild beast, and they sound high above +every other sound. There is in them the passionate ring of one who abandons all +to one overpowering desire.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I’m comin’.”</p> + +<p>There is an instant’s silence which the sound of the hungry flames +devours. Then, through the blazing doorway, the great form of Nick Westley +rushes headlong, shouting as he comes.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa! Aim-sa!”</p> + +<p>The cry echoes and reëchoes, giving fresh spirit to the baying of the wolves +that wait in the cover of the woodland. On rushes the man heedless of the +excoriating roughnesses of the ground beneath his bare and battered feet. He +gazes with staring eyes upon the woods as though he sees the vision of the woman +that has inspired his cry. On, he speeds towards the beasts whose chorus +welcomes him; <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> on, +to the dark woods in which he plunges from view.</p> + +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Jean Leblaude, standing within cover of the woods which lined the creek, was +lost to all sight and sound other than the strange scene enacted at the store. +Once or twice he had spoken, but it was more to himself than to Davia, for he +was engrossed by what he beheld.</p> + +<p>But now, as he saw the man rush with frantic haste and disappear within the +woods, he thought of the wealth of skins within the burning house. He was a +trapper, and, to his thinking, the loss was irreparable. He loved the rich furs +of the North as any woman loves her household goods. As for the store, that was +little to him except that Victor was now punished even beyond his, Jean’s, +hopes. He knew that the trader was ruined. For the rest it would be as it always +was in the wild. The valley would simply go back to its primordial +condition.</p> + +<p>But he watched Victor curiously. He saw him stand out before the wreck of his +store, and a world of despair and dejection was in his attitude. A mighty +bitterness was in the great Jean’s heart for the man he gazed upon, and a +sense of triumphant joy flashed through him at the sight.</p> + +<p>“See,” he said, without turning from his contemplation, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> and pointing with one +arm outstretched. “He’s paid, an’ paid bad. The +teachin’s come to him. Maybe he’s learned.”</p> + +<p>There was no reply, and he went on.</p> + +<p>“Maybe he’s wishin’ he’d treated you right, +Davi’. Maybe he’d gi’ something to marry you now. Maybe. Wal, +he’s had his chance an’ throw’d it.” There was an +impressive pause. Presently Jean spoke again. “Guess we’ll be +gittin’ on soon. The mission’s a good place fer wimmin as +hasn’t done well in the world, I reckon. An’ the Peace River’s +nigh to a garden. I ’lows Father Lefleur’s a straight man, an’ll set +you on the right trail, Davi’. Yes, I guess we’ll be gettin’ +on.”</p> + +<p>Still there was no answer.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the giant swung round and looked at the spot where Davia had been +standing. She had vanished.</p> + +<p>And Jean, solemn-eyed as any moose, stared stupidly at the place where her +feet had rested. He stood long without moving, and slowly thought straightened +itself out in his uncouth brain. He began to understand. The complexity of a +woman’s character had been an unknown quantity to him. But he was no +further from understanding them than any other man. Now an inner consciousness +told him that the punishment of Victor had been the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> undoing of his schemes. Davia had seen +the trader bereft of all, homeless, penniless; and she had gone to him.</p> + +<p>He turned back at last and looked towards the store; it was almost burnt out +now. But he heeded it not, for he saw two figures in deep converse, close by, in +the open, and one of them was a woman. As he watched he saw Davia pass a large +pistol to the man; and then he knew that her love for her faithless lover was +greater than any other passion that moved her. He knew that that weapon had been +given for defence against himself.</p> + +<p>That evening the setting sun shone down upon a solitary camp-fire on the +Northland trail, and beside it sat a large man crouching for warmth. He was +smoking; and as he smoked he thought much. All the days he had lived he had +never known a woman’s love. He muttered as he kicked the sticks of his +fire together, and spat into the blaze as it leapt up.</p> + +<p>“Maybe it’s a fine thing. Maybe they’re queer critturs. +Mostly saft an’ gentle an’–um–I wonder–”</p> + +<p>The sun sank abruptly, and the brief twilight gave place to a night that was +little less than day. The northern lights danced their mystic measure in the +starlit vault to the piping of the Spirit of the North. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> The hush of the Silent Land was only +broken by the cries which came up from the dark valleys and darker forests. And +the lonely giant, Jean Leblaude, slept the light slumber of the journeyer in the +wild; the slumber that sees and hears when danger is abroad, and yet rests the +body. He dreamed not, though all his schemes had gone awry, for he was +weary.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE TRAGEDY OF THE WILD</span></h2> + +<p>“Aim-sa! Aim-sa! I come!”</p> + +<p>The cry rings against the mountainsides, shuddering and failing; then it is +lost in the vastness, like the sound of a pebble pitched into rushing waters. +The woodland chorus takes it up in its own wolfish tongue, and it plunges forth +again, magnified by the din of a thousand echoes.</p> + +<p>High up to the lair of the mountain lion it rises; where the mighty crags, +throne-like, o’ershadow the lesser woods; where the royal beast, lording +it over an inferior world, stealthily prowls and lashes its angry tail at the +impudence of such a disturbance in its vast domain. Its basilisk stare looks out +from its furtive, drooping head, and its commands ring out in a roar of +magnificent displeasure.</p> + +<p>Even to loftier heights still the cry goes up; and the mighty grey eagle +ruffles its angry feathers, shakes out its vast wings, and screams invective in +answer to this loud-voiced boast of wingless creatures. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> Then, in proud disdain, it launches +itself out upon the air, and with a mighty swoop downwards, screaming defiance +as its outstretched pinions brush the sleek coat of the mountain lion, it passes +on over the creaking tree-tops to learn the real cause of the hubbub.</p> + +<p>Down the valley, away to the east, the timid deer gather, snuffing at the +breeze, fearful, protesting, yet fascinated. The caribou pauses in his headlong +race to listen; only, a moment later, to speed on the faster.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I come!”</p> + +<p>The cry is more muffled. The dark canopy of forest deadens it, till the sound +is like a voice crying out from the depths of the earth. For the man is +travelling with the fierce directness of one who is lured on by the haunting +vision of that which is his whole desire. The riven mountains have no meaning +for him. He looks straight out, nor tree-trunk, nor bush, nor jutting rock bars +his vision; there beyond, ever beyond, is that which alone he seeks. It moves as +he moves; beckoning, calling, smiling. But always, like a +will-o’-the-wisp, it eludes him, and draws forth the cry from his throat. +The sweet, mocking face; the profound blue eyes, sparkling with laughter or +brooding in perfect seriousness; the parted lips about the glistening teeth so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> luscious in their +suggestion; the dark flowing hair, like a soft curtain of wondrous texture +falling in delicate folds upon rounded shoulders–these things he sees. +Always ahead the vision speeds, always beyond. The man’s efforts avail +nothing.</p> + +<p>The wolves upon his trail lope slowly over the forest bed of oozing +vegetation; with careless stride, but with relentless intent, the creatures +openly seek their prey. For blood is upon the air, and they come with the patter +of thousands of feet, singing their dolorous chorus with all the deep meaning of +the savage primordial beast. But the man heeds them not. He is deaf to their +raucous song as he is blind to the mighty encompassing hills. What cares he if +the earth links up with the blue heavens above him? What cares he for the +everlasting silence of those heights, or the mute Spirits which repose upon the +icy beds of the all-time glaciers? He is beyond the knowledge of Storm or Calm. +He knows nought of the meaning of the awesome voice of Nature. The vision is all +to him, and he gazes upon it with hungry, dreadful eyes. His heart is starving; +his mind is empty of all but the pangs of his all-mastering desire. If need be +he will pursue to the ends of the earth. He has been to the depths of hell for +her; he has felt the withering blast of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_242'></a>242</span> satanic fires. There is nought for him but +possession; possession of the woman he seeks.</p> + +<p>To his distraught fancy, his cries receive answer, and he stumbles blindly +on. Meanwhile the wolves draw ever nearer and nearer, as their courage rises in +response to the voice of their famished bellies. So the strange pursuit goes on, +on; over hills and through valleys, now scaling barren, snow-clad rocks, now +clambering drearily down jagged rifts of earth; over Nature’s untrodden +trails, or along beaten paths made by the passage of forest beasts. Through +clearing and brake, and over the rotting ice which fills the bed of the mountain +torrent. On, on into Nature’s dim recesses, where only the forest +creatures lord it, and the feet of man have never been set.</p> + +<p>At length the forests disappear and the magnificent heights rear their snowy +crests thousands of feet skywards. The valleys are left, and behind him and +below the forests form but a dark shadow of little meaning. The greatness is +about him; the magnitude of the higher mountain world. As he faces the +unfathomed heights he again treads the snow, for the warm embrace of Spring has +not yet enfolded the higher lands, and the gracious influence of the woods is no +longer to be felt.</p> + +<p>He pauses, breathing hard, and the expression <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> of his wounded face is not pleasant. +The flesh is blue, and the eyes are as fierce as the crouching puma’s. He +looks about him as one in a daze. The baying of the wolves comes up from below. +They still dog him, for the blood trail holds them fast. A ledge stretches away, +winding upwards; a mass of tumbled rocks foot one towering, solitary pine, and +beyond is blank snow.</p> + +<p>For the moment he is lost, his vision has deserted him. It may be that +weariness has overcome the power of his illusion, for he stares vacantly about. +He looks back, and the breadth of what he sees conveys no meaning. The woods, +with the sound of life coming up to him in deadly monotony of tone; the hills, +beyond, rising till the sun, like a ball of deep red fire, seems to rest upon +their now lurid glacial fields, but is powerless to break their icy bondage; +these things he sees but heeds not. Beyond, far into the hazy distance, stretch +hills in their hundreds; incalculable, remote, all bearing the ruddy tint of +sunset; a ghostly array, chaotic, overwhelming to the brain of man. But the +scene has no significance to him. His eyes are the eyes of a man dead to all but +the illusion of a disordered brain. He sees as one partially blinded by the +sun.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he starts. A sound such as he craves has come to him again. He +wheels to the right, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_244'></a>244</span> whither the ledge winds round the crag. He peers +out; again he sees, and with a cry he rushes on. A moving figure is upon the +road; a smiling figure, a beckoning figure.</p> + +<p>Up rises the way, a toilsome path and rugged; slippery and biting to the +unshod feet. He feels no pain; there is the figure. He presses on; and the +hungry legions move out from the forest below and follow boldly upon his +trail.</p> + +<p>He rounds the bend. The call trembles down the mountainside, and its music is +strangely soothing and sweet to his ears. Quite abruptly a broad plateau spreads +out before him. It is edged on one side by a sheer drop to unimaginable depths, +on the other the uprising crags overhang in horrible menace. The plateau is +strewn with bleaching bones, and from beneath the overhanging rocks comes a +fetid stench. Now the figure is lost again, and the dreadful straining eyes +search vainly for the fair face and beckoning hand. His heart labours and great +pain is in his chest. For he is high up in the mountain air, and every breath is +an effort.</p> + +<p>Nor does he see the crouching object to his right, lying low to the ground, +with muscles quivering and eyes shooting green fire upon him. There is no +movement in the savage body but the furious, noiseless lashing of the tail, and +the bristling of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +the hair at its shoulders. But suddenly a strange thing happens. The creature +shrinks back, and draws slowly away. Its awful eyes are averted as though in a +fear it is powerless to contend with. Its anger is lost in an arrant cowardice, +and the beast slinks within a low-mouthed cavern. What is it that has power to +put fear into the heart of the monarch of the mountainside, unless it is the +madness which peers out of the man’s dreadful eyes.</p> + +<p>And the man moves on unconscious of any lurking danger. As he passes, the +spell of his presence passes also. A roar comes from the depths of the cavern, +and is answered by the wolves as they crowd up to the edge of the plateau. But +though their reply is bold they hesitate to advance further. For they know who +dwells where the broken, bleaching bones lie, and fear is in their hearts. They +snuff at the air with muzzles up-thrown, and their mangy coats bristle with +sullen anger. The crowd increases, the courage of the coward begins to rise +within them. A fierce argument arises, and the debate takes the form of a +vicious clipping of huge fangs. A mighty roar interrupts them, seeming to quell +their warlike spirit. For a moment silence reigns.</p> + +<p>Then as if by chance, one great dog-wolf is driven out upon the battleground. +He is a leader, high <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_246'></a>246</span> of shoulder, broad of chest, with jaws like the +iron fangs of a trap, and limbs that are so lean that the muscles stand out upon +them like knots of rope. And his action is a signal to the crowd of savage +poltroons behind. With one accord they send their fierce battle-cry out upon the +still air, and leap, like the rush of an avalanche, to the lair of the mountain +lion. Out from his shelter springs the royal beast, and close upon his heels +comes his mate. Side by side they stand, ready for the battle though the odds be +a million to one against them.</p> + +<p>Their sleek bodies are a-quiver with rage, their tails whip the earth in +their fury, while their eyes, like coals of green fire, shine with a malevolence +such as no words can describe.</p> + +<p>Again the wolves hesitate. Their outstretched tails droop and are pressed +between their legs; their backs are hunched, and they turn their long, narrow +heads from the green glitter of the two pairs of terrible eyes. But the pause is +brief, and the noise has died only for a second. One wolf moves a step forward, +hunger overpowering his fears. As before, it is a signal. The whole pack leap to +the fray; struggling, howling, fighting as they come ripping at comrade and foe +alike. The battle is swift; so swift that it is almost impossible to realize +that it is over. The pack, leaping and baying, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_247'></a>247</span> pass on, following the blood trail of the man, +leaving more bones upon the plateau, more blood upon the trodden snow; and the +royal dwellers of that little plain have vanished as though they had never +been.</p> + +<p>The path has taken a downward slope and the man looks ahead for the fair +face, hungrily, feverishly. Again it has vanished. His heart cries out bitterly, +and his despairing voice echoes through the barren hills.</p> + +<p>As he advances the path declines lower and lower, till out of the shadowy +depths the tree-tops seem climbing to meet him. The air he breathes is denser +now, and respiration is easier. As the path declines its mountainous sides rise +higher and higher until overhead only a narrow streak of sky is revealed, like a +soft-toned ribbon set in a background of some dun-coloured material. Ahead is a +barrier of snow and ice, while below him, down in the depths of the gorge, the +earth is clear of the wintry pall and frowns up in gloomy contrast. The sparse +vegetation, too, has changed its appearance. Here towers the silent, portentous +pine, but of a type vaster than can be seen in any other corner of the earth. +The man hastens on with all the speed his weary limbs will permit, stumbling as +he goes, for the frost of the high altitudes has <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> entered his bones, and he cannot now +feel the touch of the broken earth. But his yearning heart is ceaseless in its +despairing cry. Where–where is She? The trees come up higher and higher +and the gloom closes in upon him as he reaches the barrier.</p> + +<p>Now he pauses under a mighty archway. Below, it is black with age and full of +crowding shadows; the superstructure alone is hung with snowy frost curtains, +and these help to emphasize the forbidding nature of the dark, narrow +under-world. Down, down he goes, as though he were journeying to the very bowels +of the earth, heedless of the place, heedless of all but the phantom he seeks. +Again his surroundings have changed. The barrenness is emphasized by +skeleton-like trees of such size as no man has ever seen before. High up aloft +there is foliage upon them, but so meagre, so torn and wasted as to suggest a +wreck of magnificent life. These gigantic trunks are few in number, but so huge +that the greatest elm would appear a sapling beside them, and yet their wondrous +size would not be properly estimated. They are the primordial pines, survivors +from an unknown period. They shelter nothing but barrenness, and stand out alone +like solemn sentries, the watchmen for all time of the earth’s most dim +and secret <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +recesses, where storms cannot reach, and scarcely the forest beasts dare +penetrate.</p> + +<p>Again the poor benighted brain finds relief. Down beside these monsters his +eyes are gladdened once more with the fleeting vision. He sees the figure moving +ahead, but slowly now; no longer is she the gay laughing creature he has +hitherto followed, she moves wearily, as though exhausted by the journey she has +taken. His heart thrills with hope and joy, for now he knows that he is +overtaking her. Her face is hidden from him, and even her fair form has taken on +something of the hue of her dark surroundings.</p> + +<p>“Aim-sa! Aim-sa!” he cries aloud. And again +“Aim-sa!”</p> + +<p>The gorge rings solemnly with the hoarse echoes, and the place is filled with +discordant sounds which come back to his straining ears mingling with the cries +of the wolves that still follow on his trail.</p> + +<p>The figure pauses, looks round, then continues her slow-paced movement; but +she does not answer. Still he sees her, she is there. And now he knows that he +must come up with her. He toils on.</p> + +<p>He talks to himself, muttering as he goes; and a train of incoherent thought +passes through his brain. He tells himself that the journey is over. She has +brought him to the home which shall be <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_250'></a>250</span> theirs. The heart of the wild, where the mountains +rise sheer to the sky above; where no man comes, where a dark peace reigns, and +has ever reigned. Where snow is not, and summer and winter are alike. It is the +fitting home for a tortured spirit.</p> + +<p>The figure no longer moves now, but turns and faces him. The sweet familiar +features seem to bend toward him out of the deep shadows and the grim +surroundings. He shakes back his shaggy hair; he holds himself proudly erect as +he approaches the woman he loves. He summons all his failing strength. His knees +forget their weariness, his torn feet are unconscious of their injuries. The +haunting cry of the wolves comes down to him from behind, but he heeds only the +beckoning phantom.</p> + +<p>Every trailing stride lessens the distance between them.</p> + +<p>He sees her stoop as though to adjust her moccasin. She moves again, but she +does not stand erect. A half-articulate cry breaks from him. She is coming to +him. Now he sees that her head is bowed as though in deep humility. A cry breaks +from him, then all is silent. Suddenly she lifts her head and her tall figure +stands erect, gazing upon him with sombre, steady eyes, eyes which seem to have +caught something of the dull hue of that awesome <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> gorge. His heart leaps with joy. How +tall she is; what a superb form. She moves toward him, her body swaying +gracefully to the rhythm of her gait. Her arms are stretched out appealingly; +and he sees that she is clad in the rich furs of the North, clad as though for a +journey. He tells himself, with a thrill of mad desire, that she is ready for +their journey, the journey of life they will travel together.</p> + +<p>Now the wolf cries come louder and more fierce. If he is deaf to them the +woman is not. Her head turns sharply and a fierce light leaps into her eyes. The +change is lost upon the man. He stretches out his arms and staggers towards her. +They come together, and he feels the soft touch of her fur robes upon his face +and hands. Her arms close about him and her warm breath fans his fevered cheek, +as he is drawn, willingly, closer and closer to her bosom.</p> + +<p>But what is this? The embrace draws tight, tighter and yet tighter; he +becomes rigid in her arms, he cannot breathe, and life seems to be going from +him. He feels his ribs cracking under the pressure; he cannot cry out; he cannot +struggle. Now comes the sound of something ripping, of flesh being torn by +ruthless claws. A quiver of nerves, a sigh, and the man is still.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span>Down the path of +that woful gorge in a headlong rush comes the wolf-pack. A great figure with +lolling body looks up. Its broad head and short muzzle are poised alertly. So it +stands, and under its merciless fore paws is the mangled corpse of Nick Westley. +It is a monstrous grizzly, monstrous even for its kind. It turns from its victim +with shambling but swiftly moving gait, growling and snarling with terrible +ferocity as it goes, but never hesitating. This shaggy monarch is no coward, but +he is cunning as any fox, and, unlike the mountain lion, knows the limitation of +his powers. He knows that even his gigantic strength could not long make stand +against the oncoming horde. What he leaves behind will check the fanged legions +while he makes good his escape.</p> + +<p>The pack pours like a hideous flood over the spot where the last act of Nick +Westley’s tragedy has been played out. A brief but fiendish tumult, and +little remains to tell of the sorry drama. The impassive mountains, unmoved +spectators, give no sign. The stupendous reticence of the wilderness, like the +fall of a mighty curtain, closes over the scene, taking the story into its +inviolable keeping.</p> + +<p class='finis'>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Brooding Wild, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE BROODING WILD *** + +***** This file should be named 31607-h.htm or 31607-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/0/31607/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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