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diff --git a/31607.txt b/31607.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97b76f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/31607.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6238 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + +[Illustration: "THERE IS NO MOVEMENT IN THE SAVAGE BODY BUT THE FURIOUS, +NOISELESS LASHING OF THE TAIL" (_See page 244_)] + + + + +IN THE BROODING WILD + +By RIDGWELL CULLUM + +Author of + +"The Story of The Foss River Ranch," "The Law Breakers," +"The Way of the Strong," Etc. + +[Illustration] + +With Frontispiece + +By CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL + +A. L. BURT COMPANY + +Publishers--New York + +Published by Arrangement with The Page Company + + + + +Copyright, 1905 + +By L. C. Page & Company + +(INCORPORATED) + +All rights reserved + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. On the Mountainside 1 + II. Which Tells of the White Squaw 15 + III. The Quest of the White Squaw 34 + IV. The Hooded Man 55 + V. The White Squaw 79 + VI. The Weird of the Wild 93 + VII. In the Storming Night 112 + VIII. The Unquenchable Fire 130 + IX. To the Death 142 + X. The Battle in the Wild 157 + XI. The Gathering of the Forest Legions 174 + XII. Where the Laws of Might Alone Prevail 188 + XIII. Out on the Northland Trail 213 + XIV. Who Shall Fathom the Depths of a Woman's Love? 228 + XV. The Tragedy of the Wild 239 + + + + +IN THE BROODING WILD + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +ON THE MOUNTAINSIDE + + +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 +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +And as the fight waxes the fog rises and a grey 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. + +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. + +"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. + +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 which +were brilliantly beaded. Similar bead-work adorned the front of the +weather-proof shirt. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Yes, we've had the warnin' this week past," rejoined Nick solemnly, as +he affectionately polished 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." + +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. + +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. + +Presently he looked up. + +"Ha' ye fed the dogs, lad?" he asked. + +"Ay." + +The two relapsed into silence. The creaking of 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. + +Nick looked up and laid his gun aside, and, rising, stepped over to the +stove. + +"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. + +"It's sharp. Mighty sharp," replied his brother. "Say--" + +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. + +Nick had turned towards the door. His attitude was intent also; he, too, +was listening acutely. + +The howling elements continued to beat furiously upon the house and the +din was appalling, but these 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. + +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. + +"A cry," said Nick. + +"Some 'un out in the storm," replied Ralph. + +"A neche." + +Ralph shook his head. + +"A neche would 'a' know'd this was comin'. He'd 'a' made camp. 'Tain't a +neche. Hark!" + +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. + +Ralph rose deliberately. There was no haste, nor was there any +hesitation. His intention was written on his face. + +"The lifeline," he said briefly. + +Out into the awful storm the two men plunged 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 from every direction, and each obstacle in its chaotic path +becomes the special object of its onslaught. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The line's gettin' heavy," said Nick presently. + +"It's only a little further," replied Ralph. + +"By the weight o' the line, I reckon ther' ain't more'n fifty feet +more." + +"Maybe it'll be 'nough." + +And Ralph was right. + +Ten yards further on they almost fell over a dark mass lying in the +snow. It was a huddled heap, 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. + +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. + +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. + +As he looked up at the faces bending over him the two trappers uttered +exclamations. + +"It's the trader!" said Ralph. + +"Victor Gagnon!" exclaimed Nick. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WHICH TELLS OF THE WHITE SQUAW + + +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. + +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. + +The three men were ranged round the room in various attitudes of repose. +All were smoking 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. + +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. + +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. + +Now they were listening to his slow, quiet, thoughtful talk. He was a +man who liked talking, 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. + +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. + +"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." + +He ceased speaking as a heavy blast shook the roof, and set the lamp +swinging dangerously. + +"We're good an' pleased to see you--" began Ralph, in his deliberate +way; but Victor broke in upon him at once. + +"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 purpose. Gee! but +it's blowin'. I ain't like to forget this storm." Gagnon shuddered as he +thought of his narrow escape. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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'." + +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. + +"Ther' was some fine pelts in that last parcel o' furs you brought +along," continued Victor. "Three black foxes. But your skins is always +the best I get." + +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. + +"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." + +Gagnon paused and took a deep draught at his coffee. + +"Say," he went on, with a knowing smile. "I guess them black foxes lived +in a gold mine--" + +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. + +"Maybe you take my meanin'," said the Breed, assured that his words had +struck home. "Them 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." + +The two brothers exchanged rapid glances and then Ralph spoke for them +both. + +"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--" + +"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. + +He watched Ralph keenly while he awaited his reply, sitting up in his +eagerness. + +"Seventy-fi' dollars a day," Ralph spoke without enthusiasm. + +Victor's eyes sparkled. + +"Each?" he asked. + +"No, on shares." + +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. + +"I 'lows you should know if it's worked out, sure." + +The sharp eyes seemed to go through Ralph. + +"Dead sure. We ain't drawn a cent's worth o' colour out o' it fer nine +months solid." + +"'Tain't worth prospectin' fer the reef?" + +"Can't say. I ain't much when it comes to prospectin' gold. I knows the +colour when I sees it." + +Nick joined in the conversation at this point. + +"Guess you'd a notion you fancied bein' in it," he said, smiling over at +the Breed. + +Victor laughed a little harshly. + +"That's jest what." + +The two brothers nodded. This they had understood. + +"I'd have found all the plant fer big work," 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. + +"Bottomed right down to the bedrock. Maybe ye'd like to see fer +yourself?" + +"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. + +"We don't notion a city any," said Nick, simply. + +"Things is confusin' to judge by the yarns folks tell," added Ralph, +with a shake of his shaggy head. + +"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." + +Nick spoke dubiously, like a man who does not convince himself. + +"Hah, that's 'cause you've never been to a city," said the Breed +sharply. + +"Jest so," observed Ralph quietly, between the puffs at his pipe. + +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. + +"Well, well, maybe you're right," he said indulgently. Then silence +fell. + +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. The trader was +thinking hard behind his lowered eyelids, which were almost hidden by +the thick smoke which rose from his pipe. + +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. + +"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.'" + +"White Injuns," said Nick, with a grin followed by a yawn. + +"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." + +The two men laughed at their friend's rough 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. + +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. + +"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've_ heerd tell of a White Squaw. Say, ain't it that they reckon +as she ain't jest a human crittur?" + +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. + +"That's jest how, pard. An' it ain't a yarn neither. It's gospel truth. +I know." + +"Hah!" ejaculated Nick, while a strange feeling passed down his spine. +Ralph's eyes had slowly opened, but the others did not notice him. + +"I've seen her!" went on the trader emphatically. + +"You've seen her!" said Nick, in an awed whisper. + +An extra loud burst of the storming wind held the men silent a moment, +then, as it died away, Victor went on. + +"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?" + +"I guess." + +"Wal, clip them wings sheer off, an' you've got her dead right." + +"Mush! But she must be a dandy sight," exclaimed Nick, with conviction. +"How come ye to--" + +"Guess it's a long yarn, an' maybe ye're wantin' to sleep." + +"Say, I 'lows I'd like that yarn, Victor. I ain't worried for sleep, +any." + +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. + +"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. + +"Git goin', pard; guess your word's good fer me," Nick said eagerly. +"You was sayin'--" + +"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 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.' + +"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 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. + +"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. 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." + +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. + +"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. + +"That's the yarn as it stan's," Victor went on, after another pause, +"but this is how I come to 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 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." + +"An' she was beautiful, an'--an' fine?" asked Nick, as the trader ceased +speaking. "Was she that beautiful as you'd heerd tell of?" + +His voice was eager with suppressed excitement. His pipe had gone out, +and he had forgotten everything but the story the Breed had told. + +"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." + +Victor threw up his hands in a sort of ecstasy and looked up at the +creaking roof. + +"An' her hair?" asked Nick, wonderingly. + +"A black fox pelt was white aside it." + +"An' didn't ye foller her?" + +The question came abruptly from Ralph, whom the others had forgotten. + +"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." + +They talked on for a few moments longer, then 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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE QUEST OF THE WHITE SQUAW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At night he would talk of her to his brother, and together they would +chum the matter over, and slowly, in the more phlegmatic Ralph, Nick +kindled the flame with which he himself was consumed. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +The brothers' nights were passed in long, Indian-like silence which +ended in sleep. Tobacco scented 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. + +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. + +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. + +Nick had just moved a chest from the depths of the patchwork cupboard in +which they kept their 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. + +"Wer'll we put this?" he asked abruptly. + +Ralph looked at it with his thoughtful eyes. + +"It needs considerin'," he observed. And he leant himself against a +heavy table which stood by the wall. + +"We ain't opened it since last fall," said Nick presently, after a long +and steady survey of the object of their solicitude. + +"No." + +"Ther's a deal in it." + +Ralph groped at the neck of his shirt. Nick watched his brother's +movements. + +"Maybe we'll figure it up agin." + +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. + +Nick knelt down and took out the bills and set them on one side. + +"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'." + +Ralph took the bag and weighed it in his hand. + +"More," he said. "Ther's fi' poun' o' weight ther'." + +"Guess them bags together means fifteen to twenty thousan' dollars, +sure," said Nick, his eyes shining at the thought. + +"I don't rightly know," said Ralph. "It's a goodish wad, I 'lows." + +Nick returned the store to the chest which Ralph relocked. + +"Where?" asked Nick, glancing round the hut in search of a secure +hiding-place. + +"We'll dig a hole in the floor under my blankets," said Ralph after a +pause. "Maybe it'll be tol'ble safe there." + +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. + +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. + +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 sprang at their +breast-draws, and the sled glided away down the slope with Nick running +beside it, and Ralph following close behind. + +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 +relief to the trappers. Now for their brief holiday. + +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. + +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 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 +_in extremis_. + +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." + +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 out mournfully upon the dense +atmosphere of the room. + + "So remember the Red River Valley + And the half-breed that loved you so true." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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 he shifted uneasily. But Victor waited for his answer and +he was forced to go on. + +"Oh," he said, with a shamefaced laugh, "I was on'y jest thinkin'. I +'lows that yarn was a real good one." + +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. + +"It wa'n't no yarn. I see that White Squaw wi' my own two eyes." + +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. + +"By Gar!" he cried, "then I go an' find her; I go an' see for myself." + +And as he spoke a strange expression looked out of Victor's eyes. + +Ralph removed his pipe from his lips. + +"Good, Nick," he said emphatically. "The dogs are fresh. Guess a long +trail'll do 'em a deal o' good. When'll we start?" + +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. 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. + +"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. + +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 was working within him; and the half-breed cunning is rarely +clean. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A hearty farewell; then out upon the white trail Nick strung the willing +beasts, and the flurry of loose surface-snow that flew in their wake hid +the sled as the train glided away to the far northeast. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE HOODED MAN + + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 as only these +burden-bearers of the North can labour. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +Towards dawn Nick was on the watch. The 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. + +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. + +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 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 grizzly. Nick +stooped, seized a blazing log from the fire, and dashed out to meet the +intruder. + +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. + +"B'ar?" questioned Ralph, from the shelter of his fur bag. + +"Yes--an' puma," replied Nick unconcernedly, as he returned to his seat +to await the coming of morning. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +"What's ailin' ye?" he asked. + +Nick shook his head; he could not say that anything ailed him. + +"Thought, maybe ther' was somethin' amiss," went on his brother, +half-apologetically. He felt himself that he must talk. + +Then Nick was seized with a desire to confide in the only lifelong +friend he had ever known. + +"Ther' ain't nothin' amiss, zac'ly," he said. And he got no farther. + +"Hah!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Ralph followed the direction of the outstretched arm. And as he looked +he held his breath, for something seemed to grip his throat. + +Then a moment later words, sounding hoarse and stifled, came from the +depths of his storm-collar. + +"Who--who is it?" + +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. + +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. + +"It's--it ain't a human crittur," he said hoarsely. + +"It's a man," retorted Ralph, without releasing his hold. + +And the two brothers became silent. + +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. + +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. + +Nick shook his head in a dissatisfied manner. Ralph said nothing for +awhile. He was beginning to doubt his own assertion. + +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. + +"Ther' wa'n't no face showed," he said abruptly. + +"No," replied Ralph. Then he added thoughtfully: "He hadn't no dogs, +neither." + +"He was alone, seemly. Ther' wa'n't no camp outfit." + +Ralph shook his head and brushed away the ice about his mouth with the +back of his beaver mitt. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"By Gar!" Then after a thrilling pause, "The Hood!" + +Ralph, standing ready to break the sled out, turned. + +"Hey!" he ejaculated; and horror was in his tone, too. + +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. + +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. + +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" +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"An' we'll promise him powder, an' slugs, an' essences," said the +cautious Ralph. "We'll get his yarn first an' pay after," he added, as +he sipped his coffee. + +Nick nodded. + +"We'll fin' that crittur, sure," he said. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Ralph spoke his greeting in Indian fashion. + +"How," he said. + +"How!" replied Man-of-the-Snow-Hill, in a thin, reedy voice. And his +followers echoed the sentiment in chorus. + +Then the aged chief held out his hand in further greeting. And each +neche in turn shook the white men by the hand. + +The visitors filled and lighted their pipes, and passed their plugs of +tobacco to the others. Then Ralph began to speak in Cree. + +"We come far to speak with Man-of-the-Snow-Hill," he began. + +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. + +Now the conversation proceeded quite smoothly. + +"We wish to speak with the great Man-of-the-Snow-Hill in private," Ralph +said. "We have much to say, and many presents." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Ralph signed to his brother and Nick laid out an array of presents and +passed them with due solemnity to the old man. + +"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. + +Then Ralph went on. + +"We have come on the 'long trail' through the mountains. And we seek the +White Squaw of the Moosefoot Indians." + +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 with keen interest. Nick was groping about in the +depths of a gunny-sack. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Nick produced some bottles and the great man reached for them greedily. +But the other withheld them. + +"What will Man-of-the-Snow-Hill do for the fire-water?" Ralph asked. + +The interpreter passed the word. + +"He will send his favourite squaw to guide the white men," he answered +at once. "He can do no more." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Nick gasped. + +"It--it ain't human." + +And Ralph had no answer to make. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"An' to-morrow--" said Nick, glancing apprehensively around beyond the +fire, over which they were sitting, fighting the deadly cold of the +night. + +"To-morrow?" echoed Ralph. + +"Where?" asked Nick, looking away towards the south. + +Ralph followed the direction of his brother's gaze. + +"Um." And he nodded. + +"What--south?" + +"South." + +"An' the Wh--" + +Ralph shook his head, and smoked on solemnly. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE WHITE SQUAW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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, and the indications were those of human agency. + +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. + +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. + +"Injun moccasins," he said. + +"Guess so, by the seamin'." + +"'Tain't a buck neche, neither." + +"No." + +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. + +"It's a squaw's," he added. + +"Yes, sure; a squaw's," and Ralph swallowed a deep breath as though his +surroundings stifled him. + +A thrill of emotion moved both men. There had 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? + +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. + +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 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. + +Suddenly Nick sprang from the ground, and short and sharp came his +words. + +"Let's git on." + +"Ay," replied Ralph, and he turned back to the sled. + +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; _the_ woman. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Nick broke the silence. + +"White--white," he murmured, without knowledge that he spoke aloud. + +Ralph's face was working. His excitement, slow to rise, now overwhelmed +him, and he answered in a similar tone. + +"That hair," he muttered. "Dark, dark; an' them chaps wi' beads of Injun +patte'n. An' the muzzle-loadin' weapin." + +Nick took up the argument as his brother broke off. + +"It's a squaw, too." + +"Her eyes, he says, was blue," Ralph murmured, breathing hard. + +"An' she was leanin' on a gun," Nick added softly. + +"It's--" + +"By Gar! It is!" + +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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +At last Ralph advanced toward her. + +"You're welcome to our shack," he said, in Cree. + +The woman shook her beautiful head, but smiled upon him; and the simple +soul felt the blood rush from heart to head. + +"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." + +The blue eyes were turned on Nick with a deep inscrutable smile. Nick +felt that life at her feet was the only life possible. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +And that night saw a change in the ordering of the trappers' household. +The two men talked it over after their meal. Ralph broached the subject. + +He waved his arm, the bowl of his pipe gripped in his horny hand, while +its stem indicated the entire hut. + +"Hers," he said. And his eyes were dragged from the object of his +solicitude and turned upon Nick. + +His brother nodded as he puffed at his pipe. + +"The shed," Ralph went on. "The huskies must burrow in the snow." + +Again Nick nodded. + +"Wants sweepin' some," observed Ralph again. + +"Yup. We'll fix it." + +"Best git to it." + +"Ay." + +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. + +The snow fell that night; a silent, irresistible mountain snow-storm, +without a breath of wind, 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. + +But Ralph and his brother, Nick, feared nothing. They loved the labour; +for was it not on behalf of the beautiful White Squaw? + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE WEIRD OF THE WILD + + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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, deep eyes would wear +many varying expressions, chief among which was the dark, abiding smile. + +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 naivete which was less of the +wild than of the drawing-room. + +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. + +One night the friction almost resulted in a blaze. + +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. + +"Victor don't know as she's here," he said. + +Nick looked up, glanced round the room, shook his head, and bent over +his work again. + +"No," he answered shortly. + +"Maybe he won't jest laff." + +"No." + +Again came Nick's monosyllabic reply. + +"Guess we'd best let him know." + +There was a pause. Ralph waited for his brother to speak. As no answer +came he went on. + +"Who's goin' to tell him?" + +Still there was no reply. The silence was broken only by the "ping" of +the rawhide strands which Nick tested as he drew tight. + +"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." + +"Maybe." + +"Why don't you take the dogs an' run in?" + +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. + +When at last he answered it was in a tone of fiery abruptness. + +"Guess not," he said. And it was Ralph's turn to hold back the anger +which rose within him. + +"Why?" + +"Say, brother," said Nick, with a biting distinctness, "quit right +there. Ther' ain't no need fer another word." + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +"Look!" And Nick's arm was outstretched pointing. + +And Ralph looked in time to see the ghostly form of the Hooded Man as it +slowly passed from view over the hill. + +"The Hood!" exclaimed Ralph, in awestruck tones. + +"Ay." + +"What's--what's he doin' here?" Ralph asked, more of himself than of his +brother. Then he added: "He's on our trail." + +There was a slight pause. + +"It's somethin' on her account," Nick said, at last, with uneasy +conviction. + +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. + +"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. + +Aim-sa nodded, and Nick went on. + +"We seen him up north. On the trail to the Moosefoot." + +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. + +"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." + +Ralph turned away uneasily. These mysterious allusions troubled him. +Nick could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. Her strange eyes held him +captive. + +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. + +"You was scared when you see him just now?" said Ralph, questioningly. + +Aim-sa nodded. + +"He come to--take me," she said, halting over the words. "The +Moosefoot--they angry--Aim-sa stay away." + +"Hah!" + +Nick thrust his rifle out towards her. + +"Here take it. It shoots good. When 'The Hood' comes, shoot--savvee?" + +Aim-sa took the gun and turned back to the hut. And the men passed out +into the forest. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +As the man came up Aim-sa plunged into voluble speech. + +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. + +A look of triumph was in Aim-sa's blue eyes as 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. + +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. + +The man, still kneeling over his prize, greeted Aim-sa without pausing +in his work. + +"Wher'?" he asked, sparing his words lest he should confuse her. + +The unconcern of the query reassured her. + +"The forest," replied Aim-sa easily, pointing away down the hill. + +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 remark, she went on. She pointed back at the forest. + +"The wolves--they very thick. Many, many--an' hungry." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +And Aim-sa was in no way loth to linger by this 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. + +She hearkened to the sounds of the snarling wolves and her blue eyes +darkened with the latent savagery that was in her nature. + +"The dogs--they fight. Hah!" she said. And a smile of delight was in her +eyes. + +"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. + +She taunted him with a glance of intense meaning. And, in an instant, +the fire in his soul blazed into an overwhelming conflagration. + +"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." + +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 untutored passion. +Her smile, too, was not wholly devoid of derision; but that was lost +upon him. + +"Aim-sa--beautiful. Ah! yes--yes, I know. You speak love to me. You +speak love to White Squaw." + +"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." + +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. + +"Aim-sa loves not. She must not. The Moosefoot--she is Queen." + +"Curses on the Moosefoot, I say," cried Nick, with passionate impulse. + +Aim-sa put up her hand. + +"The man--'The Hood.' Fear the Spirit." + +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. + +"Remember--'The Hood,'" Aim-sa warned him. And the next moment had +vanished within the dugout. + +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. + +But what he beheld brought an angry flush to his cheeks. He did not see +"The Hood," but Ralph walking slowly up the hill. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN THE STORMING NIGHT + + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 upon obtaining Aim-sa's regard, and lived in the fool's +paradise of a reckless lover. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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, and with the nervous quakings of a wrong-doer. His face was +wrought with fear, with hope, with the eagerness of expectancy. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Quiet--quiet. The night. The storm is near. Aim-sa watches." + +Ralph turned his face out upon the blackness of the valley, following +the direction of the woman's gaze. + +"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. + +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. His mind was in the throes of a +fever, and his speech partook of the irrelevance of delirium. + +"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." + +A smile was in the woman's blue eyes, for her memory went back to the +words Nick had spoken to her that morning. + +Ralph went on. + +"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?" + +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 stretched out his hand and caught hers in his shaking +grasp. + +"The white man loves--Aim-sa," the woman said, softly, while she yielded +her two hands to him. + +"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." + +"Ah," sighed the woman, "Nick--poor Nick. He loves--Aim-sa, too. Nick is +great man." + +"Nick loves you? Did he get tellin' ye so?" + +There was a wild, passionate ring in Ralph's question. + +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. + +"An' you?" + +The voice of the man was choking with suppressed passion. His whole body +trembled with the chaos of feeling which moved him. + +The woman shook her head. + +"An' what did ye say?" he went on, as she remained silent. + +"Nick is great. No, Aim-sa not loves Nick." + +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. + +"An' we go together?" he asked. + +Aim-sa nodded. + +"Now?" + +The woman shook her head. + +"No--sunrise. I wait here." + +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. + +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 would have passed +unheeded by the man, but Aim-sa was alert, and she freed herself from +his embrace. + +"At sunrise," she said. "Now--sleep." And she made a sign as of laying +her head upon a pillow. + +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. + +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. + +So it came that the faint light on the distant 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. + +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + +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. + +All was profoundly dark. The darkness of the night was a darkness that +could be felt, for the 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 out and finally passed out. Nick +still slumbered heavily. + +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. + +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. + +His impatience could no longer be restrained; he plunged his hand into +the pocket of his buckskin 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. + +Everything was out of place, there were signs of disorder everywhere; +and the woman was gone. + +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. + +Into his eyes there leapt a strange, wild look. The truth was forcing +itself upon him, and his heart was racked with torment. + +"She's gone," he muttered again, "an'," as an afterthought, "it's +storming terrible. Wher'? Why?" + +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 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. + +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. + +"Wide toe," he muttered, "long heel, an' high instep. Large, large, too. +By G----, they're Injun!" + +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. + +Seeing the expression of Ralph's face the larger man stood. + +"By Gar!" he cried. Then he waited, fearing he knew not what. + +"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!" + +And he seized Nick by the arm and dragged him round to the door of the +dugout. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE UNQUENCHABLE FIRE + + +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. + +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 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. + +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 _his_ 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. + +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 in the lean-to, +reserving the dugout for the object of their love, against her return. + +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. + +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. + +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 chief object of their lives was to find the woman who had +taught them the meaning of love. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 held them. Those who +wished to fight could do so; their indifference plainly said so. + +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. + +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. + +The unusual outburst held Ralph silent, wondering. 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? + +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. + +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. + +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 to the waiting man. Nick shouted a greeting as he came. + +"A great day, Ralph," he cried. "Two o' the finest yeller-bellies I've +seed. Most as big as timber-wolves." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A portentous silence followed. Nick was casting 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. + +"I've seen her," he said, in a voice tense with emotion. + +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. + +"Her?" + +"Yes, I spoke to her, I guess." + +"Spoke to her?" + +And the whites of the elder man's eyes had become bloodshot as he stood +up from his crouching attitude over the fire. + +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 his brother's +face, and, for awhile, the supper was forgotten. + +"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." + +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. + +"You look that glad. Maybe you've had a good time." + +Ralph's words came as though he were thinking aloud. + +The devil stirred in Nick's heart. + +"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." + +"You?" + +"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." + +Ralph's eyes darkened. His set face became more rigid. Then suddenly a +harsh laugh broke from his unmoving lips. + +"Guess you're crazed, Nick. That woman's foolin' ye." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +TO THE DEATH + + +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 animal seeks cover; or a heavy crashing of +branches, as the mighty-antlered moose, solemn-eyed, unheeding, thrusts +himself through the undergrowth. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +"I wonder if Nick's lit on it," he muttered. "It 'ud be his luck, +anyway." + +He further examined the tracks, and the whiteness of the snow warned him +they were quite fresh. + +"Ain't been made more'n an hour," he added, in further soliloquy. +"Guess, I'll trail him." + +And he set off hot-foot through the forest. + +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. + +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. + +Such was his mood as he traversed the forest 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +His eyes took in every detail slowly, fondly. 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. + +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. + +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 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! + +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. + +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. + +Now his movements became almost Indian-like in their stealth. Bending +low to avoid the rustling 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. + +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. + +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. + +An opening not two acres in extent lay before him. In its midst was a +blackened tree-trunk, limbless, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 with death stealing +upon him from beyond the fringe of the woods. + +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. + +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. + +Within ten yards of the tree the bear halted and reared itself upon its +haunches. Thus for a moment it towered in terrible menace. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 jaws, all gave warning of a danger that +dwarfed to insignificance that which had just passed. + +"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." + +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. + +"Wal, I guess y've found me. What then?" + +Nick squared himself, and his expression was as relentless as that of +the older man. + +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. + +"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!" + +Nick turned and looked at her with strained, anxious eyes. Ralph's face +belied his outward calm. + +"An' what if Aim-sa loves neither?" the woman asked, with a laugh in +which there was no mirth, and some fear. + +"Then she's lied." + +Ralph's teeth shut with a snap. + +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. + +"Aim-sa loves both," she said at last. + +There was a long, deathly silence. The brooding solitude of the wild was +never more pronounced than at that moment. + +Then Ralph looked into the face of his brother, and Nick returned his +gaze. + +"You hear?" said Ralph. "She is an Injun, I guess, an' don't know no +better. Maybe we'd best settle it for her." + +"That's so." + +Ralph threw off his buckskin shirt. Nick removed his heavy clothing. + +"Stand aside, woman," said Ralph. "Ye'll wait by, an' your man'll claim +ye." + +"Knives?" said Nick, through his clenched teeth. + +"Knives." + +And then again silence reigned. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE BATTLE IN THE WILD + + +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. + +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. + +Just for one instant the desire to stay the combatants rose uppermost in +her mind. She stepped forward again and raised a protesting hand. + +"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." + +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. + +"Stand back, an' remember ye're the squaw of him as wins ye in fair +fight." + +Then he cried out to his brother: + +"Are ye ready?" + +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. + +For a moment a heavy cloud spread itself over 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. + +Both had bared their hunting-blades, long knives at once vicious and +coldly significant. + +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. + +Ralph displayed the more activity. His lesser 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. + +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. + +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, +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +It was over. + +Ralph lay quivering and silent upon the ground. Nick rose staggering and +dazed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a cry broke from his lips. It was bitter, heartrending. Then a +quick word followed. + +"Wher's--" + +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 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! + +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. + +Gone! Aim-sa was gone! + +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. + +There was a long pause, and the quiet set his 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. + +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. + +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? + +At the thought he almost threw the body from him as he sprang to his +feet. + +"No, no! not murder," he cried, in a choking voice. "It was fair fight." + +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 upon the sodden earth, and his fingers dug into +the carpet of dead matter, clawing aimlessly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He held the body firmly but tenderly, and walked 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. + +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. + +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 reechoed in the +hollow shadows. + +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 hungry bellies till they began to lose their fear of the man. + +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. + +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. + +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 body without thought of his way, with nervous dews upon his +forehead, and shaking limbs. + +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. + +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 his heels +came the loud-voiced throng of timber-wolves. + +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. + +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. + +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 flight, +racing for home in a perfect madness of terror. + +And so, with horror staring from his eyes, the man who had killed his +brother came to his home again. + +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. + +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. + +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 creatures had +vanished--all but two. And these lay where they had fallen. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE GATHERING OF THE FOREST LEGIONS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He closed the door behind him, and, from the 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. + +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. + +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. + +The hunched figure made no move. + +Wild thoughts surged through his brain, thoughts which had no sequence, +no continuity. He had 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. + +The time passed. + +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. + +Nick stirred at last. + +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, +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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 reassurance. He passed out of the hut, and +presently returned with a shovel and pick. + +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 debris. +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. + +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. + +Then he paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. The tension of his +nerves was slightly relaxed. 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. + +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. + +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 the spot. He dug +deeper, but no chest appeared, and his look changed to one of absolute +fear. + +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. + +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. + +"It's gone!" + +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 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. + +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. + +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 dusty +plains; he knew nothing, nothing. He moved, ran, walked; he was a living +organism without a governing power of mind. + +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. + +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 +dragged wearily on towards the hut. It was the forest instinct obeyed +mechanically. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The fair fresh daylight was streaming in through 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. + +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. + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +WHERE THE LAWS OF MIGHT ALONE PREVAIL + + +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. + +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 the floor about +it was littered with food and crumbs. Everywhere were signs of +half-breed slovenliness. + +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. + +Victor's attention was for the moment upon a rough-hewn chest which was +standing on the floor at the big man's feet. + +"An' why didn't she come right along with you?" + +"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." + +The big man spoke quite calmly, but his very calmness was portentous. + +"Smarter?" said Victor contemptuously, ignoring the latter part of the +other's remark. + +"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." + +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. + +"But that ain't on'y the reason, I guess. I wanted her to stay. You an' +me are goin' to talk, Victor Gagnon." + +The trader glanced angrily at the man with the hood. + +"See here, Jean Leblaude, you allus had a crank in yer head, an' I don't +cotton to cranks anyhow." + +"But you'll cotton to this," replied Jean drily. + +"Eh?" + +"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?" + +There was a look in Jean's eyes that brooked no denial or evasion. He +had driven straight to the point, nor was there any likelihood of his +drawing back. + +"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. + +"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--" + +"Or--what?" broke in Victor contemptuously. + +"Or not one blazin' cent o' the stuff in this chest'll you touch." + +Victor sprang from his seat and his eyes shone furiously. + +"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. + +Then the great Jean lowered his eyes to the hewn chest upon the floor. +The lid had been forced open 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. + +"Guess I'll git blankets out o' your store," he said. + +Victor remained rapt in moody silence. + +"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. + +At last Victor looked up and the dark half-breed blood slowly mounted +and flushed his narrow face. + +"You're goin' to stop here--wher' the stuff is?" + +"I guess." + +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. + +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. + +Victor had sought to obtain good service, forgetting 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 about in his mind for a means of +getting away with the money. Jean was at his post in the inner room. + +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. + +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. + +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 him, and he wondered what he +was doing. But he did not turn to see. + +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. + +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. + +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 pig-headed Jean, the man who had +dared to dictate to Victor Gagnon. The trader laughed silently. + +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. + +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. + +Jean eyed his prisoner coldly as he drew up beside him. + +"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." + +Jean was the picture of strong, unimaginative purpose. But Victor had +that in his mind which made him bold. + +"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." + +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. + +At last he grunted, which was his way of announcing that his decision +was taken. + +"I'll have they dogs hitched this afternoon," he said slowly, and with +meaning. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 +the valley, I guess. When they've gone, we'll see." + +And Victor smiled to himself when the giant had once more departed. Then +he put his pistol away. + +"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.'" + +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. + +The company's dog-train came up. Two sleds, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +"'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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Ho, Jean, man," cried the latter. "No bad blood, I'm guessin'. Ther's +good thick rum, lad, an' I mind you're a'mighty partial most gener'ly." + +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. + +Pierre seeing the action stepped up to him and shook a warning finger in +his face. + +"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." + +Jean looked slightly abashed. Then Ambrose chimed in. + +"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' to hev a time to-night, or I'll quit the +road for ever." + +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. + +The armistice was declared, and Victor, in imagination, already saw the +treasure his. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +Victor alone kept his head. + +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 shook him gently, then more +roughly. He was like a log. Victor grinned with a fiendish leer. + +"Guess he's fixed," he muttered. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +Now was the trader to be seen in his true light. Here was emergency, +when all veneer fell from 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. + +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 the heart of the mountains. He shivered, and started at every +night-sound that broke the stillness. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 a mere puppet, and the voice of +Jean Leblaude broke harshly upon his ears. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You'll pay fer this," the trader said, between his teeth. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +Gagnon realized to the full the calamity which had befallen him. + +"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." + +With easy deftness Jean gagged his prisoner. Then he glanced round the +windowless shack to 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +OUT ON THE NORTHLAND TRAIL + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When, at last, the two men stirred he was at 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. + +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. + +"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." + +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 else, might go hang. +All they thought of was the awful thirst that assailed them. + +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." + +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. 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. + +But the tragedy was working itself out in a manner little suspected, +little expected, by him. This he was soon to learn. + +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. + +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. + +Awhile, and his attention became fixed upon the 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. + +He waited. + +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. + +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. + +"Quick, let's git inside," she cried, in a choking voice. Then she added +hysterically: "He's on the trail." + +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 +her face. She was strong, a woman bred to hardship and toil. + +Jean waited; then he put a question with characteristic abruptness. + +"Who's on the trail?" + +"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." + +The man did not move a muscle. Only his eyes darkened as he heard the +announcement. + +"Mad," he said, thoughtfully. "An' he's comin' fer Victor. Wal?" + +Davia sat up. Her brother's calmness had a soothing effect upon her. + +"Listen, an' I'll tell you." + +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. + +Jean listened unemotionally and with a judicial air. Only his eyes +shoved that he was in any way moved. + +When she had finished he asked her, "An' when'll he git here?" + +"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. + +"Fer Victor? Sure?" Jean asked again presently, like a man weighing up a +difficult problem. + +"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. + +"Him an' me's changed places. He's back ther'." Jean jerked a thumb over +his shoulder to indicate the huts in the wood. + +Davia was on her feet in an instant and her eyes sparkled angrily. + +"What d'ye mean, Jean?" + +The man shrugged. But his words came full of anger. + +"He didn't mean marryin' ye." + +"Well?" The blue eyes fairly blazed. + +"The boodle," with a glance in the direction of the treasure. "He was +fer jumpin' the lot." + +"Hah! An'--?" + +And Jean told his story. And after that a silence fell. + +"It's cursed--it's blood-money!" Davia's voice was hoarse with emotion +as she said the words. + +Jean started. + +"We're goin' to git," he said slowly. And he looked into the woman's +eyes as though he would read her very soul. + +"An' Victor?" said Davia harshly. + +"Come, we'll go to him." + +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. + +"Let's git on quick," Davia whispered. And her mouth was dry with her +terror. + +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. + +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 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. + +"Wal?" he said. + +And Davia turned to Jean. + +"Loose him!" she said imperiously. + +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. + +"What are you goin' to do with him?" Davia asked. + +She could scarcely withhold the anger which had risen within her. + +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. + +"Now," he said, addressing them both. "Say your says--quick." + +"You ain't leavin' him here," said the woman, looking squarely into her +brother's eyes. + +"That's so." + +A strange light leapt into Davia's eyes. Jean saw it and went on with a +frown. + +"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." + +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. + +"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' 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." + +Jean finished up with profound emphasis. Then he turned about and faced +his sister. + +"Now, gal, we're goin'." + +"Not while Victor's left here." + +Jean stood quite still for a moment. Then his rage suddenly broke forth. + +"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." + +He made a step towards her. Then he brought 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. + +Now he thrust her out of the hut and secured the door. He believed that +what he had done was only right. + +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. + +"Let me stop, Jean," she cried, while a sob broke from her. "I love him. +He's mine." + +"God's curse on ye, no!" came the swift response, and the man's eyes +blazed. + +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 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. + +Davia caught Jean's arm as though seeking protection. + +"I will go," she cried, and the man took her answer to be a final +submission. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Then he prodded the ice with his iron-shod staff. + +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. + +"What are ye doin'?" she asked, quite suddenly. + +And Jean's retort was a repetition of her own words. + +"It's cursed--it's blood-money!" + +She took his meaning, and her cupidity cried out in revolt. But her +protest was useless. + +"You're not goin'--" she began. + +"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. + +Davia's eyes expressed more than any words could have told. She stood +silently by, a mute but 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. + +"Mebbe the water'll wash the blood off'n it," he exclaimed. "Mebbe." + +Davia's eyes looked derisively upon the giant figure as he straightened +himself up. She could not understand. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +WHO SHALL FATHOM THE DEPTHS OF A WOMAN'S LOVE? + + +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. + +All the world seems to be reaching to the sky vault above. Everything is +vast; only is the work of human hands puny. + +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 reecho, and, to human ears, the savage din is +full of portentous meaning, but it is lost beyond the confines of the +valley; and the silent guardians of the peaks above sleep on +undisturbed. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Suddenly the bush parts. There stands the store of Victor Gagnon in the +bright light of day. Swift 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. + +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. + +All is silent again except for the shuffling of his almost bare feet +upon the uneven ladder. The last rung is gone, and he drops heavily to +the ground. Then, for awhile, silence reigns. + +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. + +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. + +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 not what, makes him look about him fearfully, but he +remains at his post. He dare not move. + +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. + +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. + +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 building, for Victor can hear his voice as +he talks and laughs at the result of his handiwork. + +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. + +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. + +"Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I'm comin'." + +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. + +"Aim-sa! Aim-sa!" + +The cry echoes and reechoes, 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; on, to the dark woods in +which he plunges from view. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"See," he said, without turning from his contemplation, and pointing +with one arm outstretched. "He's paid, an' paid bad. The teachin's come +to him. Maybe he's learned." + +There was no reply, and he went on. + +"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." + +Still there was no answer. + +Suddenly the giant swung round and looked at the spot where Davia had +been standing. She had vanished. + +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 undoing of his schemes. Davia had seen the trader bereft of +all, homeless, penniless; and she had gone to him. + +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. + +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. + +"Maybe it's a fine thing. Maybe they're queer critturs. Mostly saft an' +gentle an'--um--I wonder--" + +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. +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE TRAGEDY OF THE WILD + + +"Aim-sa! Aim-sa! I come!" + +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. + +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. + +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. +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. + +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. + +"Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I come!" + +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 +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. + +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 +satanic fires. There is nought for him but possession; possession of the +woman he seeks. + +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. + +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. + +He pauses, breathing hard, and the expression 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. + +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. + +Suddenly he starts. A sound such as he craves has come to him again. He +wheels to the right, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Then as if by chance, one great dog-wolf is driven out upon the +battleground. He is a leader, high 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. + +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 recesses, where storms +cannot reach, and scarcely the forest beasts dare penetrate. + +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. + +"Aim-sa! Aim-sa!" he cries aloud. And again "Aim-sa!" + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Every trailing stride lessens the distance between them. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +THE END. + + + + + + +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.txt or 31607.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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