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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4743-0.txt b/4743-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df4bdd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/4743-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9281 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Country Beyond + A Romance of the Wilderness + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Posting Date: July 1, 2009 [EBook #4743] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 12, 2002 +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by +Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: “We'll make it, Peter,” she whispered.] + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + +A ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +AUTHOR OF THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN, THE FLAMING FOREST, ETC. + +JTABLE 5 23 1 + + +List of Illustrations + + +“We'll make it, Peter,” she whispered. . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +“I've come to tell you things, Nada. I've been living a lie.” + +They hurried to the camp, the children racing ahead to tell the news. + +“--a squaw named Yellow Bird sent word that you would be welcome.” + + + + + +A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty +battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a +million people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in +the history of human lives; yet these things Peter did not know. + + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Not far from the rugged and storm-whipped north shore of Lake Superior, +and south of the Kaministiqua, yet not as far south as the Rainy River +waterway, there lay a paradise lost in the heart of a wilderness +world--and in that paradise “a little corner of hell.” + +That was what the girl had called it once upon a time, when sobbing out +the shame and the agony of it to herself. That was before Peter had +come to leaven the drab of her life. But the hell was still there. + +One would not have guessed its existence, standing at the bald top of +Cragg's Ridge this wonderful thirtieth day of May. In the whiteness of +winter one could look off over a hundred square miles of freezing +forest and swamp and river country, with the gleam of ice-covered lakes +here and there, fringed by their black spruce and cedar and balsam--a +country of storm, of deep snows, and men and women whose blood ran red +with the thrill that the hardship and the never-ending adventure of the +wild. + +But this was spring. And such a spring as had not come to the Canadian +north country in many years. Until three days ago there had been a +deluge of warm rains, and since then the sun had inundated the land +with the golden warmth of summer. The last chill was gone from the air, +and the last bit of frozen earth and muck from the deepest and blackest +swamps, North, south, east and west the wilderness world was a glory of +bursting life, of springtime mellowing into summer. Ridge upon ridge of +yellows and greens and blacks swept away into the unknown distances +like the billows of a vast sea; and between them lay the valleys and +swamps, the lakes and waterways, glad with the rippling song of running +waters, the sweet scents of early flowering time, and the joyous voice +of all mating creatures. + +Just under Cragg's Ridge lay the paradise, a meadow-like sweep of plain +that reached down to the edge of Clearwater Lake, with clumps of +poplars and white birch and darker tapestries of spruce and balsams +dotting it like islets in a sea of verdant green. The flowers were two +weeks ahead of their time and the sweet perfumes of late June, instead +of May, rose up out of the plain, and already there was nesting in the +velvety splashes of timber. + +In the edge of a clump of this timber, flat on his belly, lay Peter. +The love of adventure was in him, and today he had sallied forth on his +most desperate enterprise. For the first time he had gone alone to the +edge of Clearwater Lake, half a mile away; boldly he had trotted up and +down the white strip of beach where the girl's footprints still +remained in the sand, and defiantly he had yipped at the shimmering +vastness of the water, and at the white gulls circling near him in +quest of dead fish flung ashore. Peter was three months old. Yesterday +he had been a timid pup, shrinking from the bigness and strangeness of +everything about him; but today he had braved the lake trail on his own +nerve, and nothing had dared to come near him in spite of his yipping, +so that a great courage and a great desire were born in him. + +Therefore, in returning, he had paused in the edge of a great clump of +balsams and spruce, and lay flat on his belly, his sharp little eyes +leveled yearningly at the black mystery of its deeper shadows. The bit +of forest filled a cup-like depression in the plain, and was possibly +half a rifle-shot distance from end to end--but to Peter it was as vast +as life itself. And something urged him to go in. + +And as he lay there, desire and indecision struggling for mastery +within him, no power could have told Peter that destinies greater than +his own were working through the soul of the dog that was in him, and +that on his decision to go in or not to go in--on the triumph of +courage or cowardice--there rested the fates of lives greater than his +own, of men, and women, and of little children still unborn. A glass of +wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty battle, +and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a million +people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in the +history of human lives, yet these things Peter did not know--nor that +his greatest hour had come. + +At last he rose from his squatting posture, and stood upon his feet. He +was not a beautiful pup, this Peter Pied-Bot--or Peter Club-foot, as +Jolly Roger McKay--who lived over in the big cedar swamp--had named him +when he gave Peter to the girl. He was, in a way, an accident and a +homely one at that. His father was a blue-blooded fighting Airedale who +had broken from his kennel long enough to commit a MESALLIANCE with a +huge big footed and peace-loving Mackenzie hound--and Peter was the +result. He wore the fiercely bristling whiskers of his Airedale father +at the age of three months; his ears were flappy and big, his tail was +knotted, and his legs were ungainly and loose, with huge feet at the +end of them--so big and heavy that he stumbled frequently, and fell on +his nose. One pitied him at first--and then loved him. For Peter, in +spite of his homeliness, had the two best bloods of all dog creation in +his veins. Yet in a way it was like mixing nitro-glycerin with olive +oil, or dynamite and saltpeter with milk and honey. + +Peter's heart was thumping rapidly as he took a step toward the deeper +shadows. He swallowed hard, as if to clear a knot out of his scrawny +throat. But he had made up his mind. Something was compelling him, and +he would go in. Slowly the gloom engulfed him, and once again the +whimsical spirit of fatalism had chosen a trivial thing to work out its +ends in the romance and tragedy of human lives. + +Grim shadows began to surround Peter, and his ears shot up, and a +scraggly brush stood out along his spine. But he did not bark, as he +had barked along the shore of the lake, and in the green opens. Twice +he looked back to the shimmer of sunshine that was growing more and +more indistinct. As long as he could see this, and knew that his +retreat was open, there still remained a bit of that courage which was +swiftly ebbing in the thickening darkness. But the third time he looked +back the light of the sun was utterly gone! For an instant the knot +rose up in his throat and choked him, and his eyes popped, and grew +like little balls of fire in his intense desire to see through the +gloom. Even the girl, who was afraid of only one thing in the world, +would have paused where Peter stood, with a little quickening of her +heart. For all the light of the day, it seemed to Peter, had suddenly +died out. Over his head the spruce and cedar and balsam tops grew so +thick they were like a canopy of night. Through them the snow never +came in winter, and under them the light of a blazing sun was only a +ghostly twilight. + +And now, as he stood there, his whole soul burning with a desire to see +his way out, Peter began to hear strange sounds. Strangest of all, and +most fearsome, was a hissing that came and went, sometimes very near to +him, and always accompanied by a grating noise that curdled his blood. +Twice after that he saw the shadow of the great owl as it swooped over +him, and he flattened himself down, the knot in his throat growing +bigger and more choking. And then he heard the soft and uncanny +movement of huge feathered bodies in the thick shroud of boughs +overhead, and slowly and cautiously he wormed himself around, +determined to get back to sunshine and day as quickly as he could. It +was not until he had made this movement that the real chill of horror +gripped at his heart. Straight behind him, directly in the path he had +traveled, he saw two little green balls of flame! + +It was instinct, and not reason or experience, which told Peter there +was menace and peril in these two tiny spots blazing in the gloom. He +did not know that his own eyes, popping half out of his head, were +equally terrifying in that pit of silence, nor that from him emanated a +still more terrifying thing--the scent of dog. He trembled on his +wobbly legs as the green eyes stared at him, and his back seemed to +break in the middle, so that he sank helplessly down upon the soft +spruce needles, waiting for his doom. In another flash the twin balls +of green fire were gone. In a moment they appeared again, a little +farther away. Then a second time they were gone, and a third time they +flashed back at him--so distant they appeared like needle-points in the +darkness. Something stupendous rose up in Peter. It was the soul of his +Airedale father, telling him the other thing was running away! And in +the joy of triumph Peter let out a yelp. In that night-infested place, +alive with hiding things, the yelp set loose weird rustlings in the +tangled treetops, strange murmurings of chortling voices, and the nasty +snapping of beaks that held in them the power to rend Peter's skinny +body into a hundred bits. From deeper in the thicket came the sudden +crash of a heavy body, and with it the chuckling notes of a porcupine, +and a HOO-HOO-HOO-EE of startled inquiry that at first Peter took for a +human voice. And again he lay shivering close to the foot-deep carpet +of needles under him, while his heart thumped against his ribs, and his +whiskers stood out in mortal fear. There followed a weird and appalling +silence, and in that stillness Peter quested vainly for the sunlight he +had lost. And then, indistinctly, but bringing with it a new thrill, he +heard another sound. It was a soft and distant rippling of running +water. He knew that sound. It was friendly. He had played among the +rocks and pebbles and sand where it was made. His courage came back, +and he rose up on his legs, and made his way toward it. Something +inside him told him to go quietly, but his feet were big and clumsy, +and half a dozen times in the next two minutes he stumbled on his nose. +At last he came to the stream, scarcely wider than a man might have +reached across, rippling and plashing its way through the naked roots +of trees. And ahead of him Peter saw light. He quickened his pace, +until at the last he was running when he came out into the edge of the +meadowy plain, with its sweetness of flowers and green grass and song +of birds, and its glory of blue sky and sun. + +If he had ever been afraid, Peter forgot it now. The choking went out +of his throat, his heart fell back in its place, and the fierce +conviction that he had vanquished everything in the world possessed +him. He peered back into the dark cavern of evergreen out of which the +streamlet gurgled, and then trotted straight away from it, growling +back his defiance as he ran. At a safe distance he stopped, and faced +about. Nothing was following him, and the importance of his +achievements grew upon him. He began to swell; his fore-legs he planted +pugnaciously, he hollowed his back, and began to bark with all the +puppyish ferocity that was in him. And though he continued to yelp, and +pounded the earth with his paws, and tore up the green grass with his +sharp little teeth, nothing dared to come out of the black forest in +answer to his challenge! + +His head was high and his ears cocked jauntily as he trotted up the +slope, and for the first time in his three months of existence he +yearned to give battle to something that was alive. He was a changed +Peter, no longer satisfied with the thought of gnawing sticks or stones +or mauling a rabbit skin. At the crest of the slope he stopped, and +yelped down, almost determined to go back to that black patch of forest +and chase out everything that was in it. Then he turned toward Cragg's +Ridge, and what he saw seemed slowly to shrink up the pugnaciousness +that was in him, and his stiffened tail drooped until the knotty end of +it touched the ground. + +Three or four hundred yards away, out of the heart of that cup-like +paradise which ran back through a break in the ridge, rose a spiral of +white smoke, and with the sight of that smoke Peter heard also the +chopping of axe. It made him shiver, and yet he made his way toward it. +He was not old enough--nor was it in the gentle blood of his Mackenzie +mother--to know the meaning of hate; but something was growing swiftly +in Peter's shrewd little head, and he sensed impending danger whenever +he heard the sound of the axe. For always there was associated with +that sound the cat-like, thin-faced man with the red bristle on his +upper lip, and the one eye that never opened but was always closed. And +Peter had come to fear this one eyed man more than he feared any of the +ghostly monsters hidden in the black pit of the forest he had braved +that day. + +But the owls, and the porcupine, and the fiery-eyed fox that had run +away from him, had put into Peter something which was not in him +yesterday, and he did not slink on his belly when he came to the edge +of the cup between the broken ridge, but stood up boldly on his crooked +legs and looked ahead of him. At the far edge of the cup, under the +western shoulder of the ridge, was a thick scattering of tall cedars +and green poplars and white birch, and in the shelter of these was a +cabin built of logs. A lovelier spot could not have been chosen for the +home of man. The hollow, from where Peter stood, was a velvety carpet +of green, thickly strewn with flowers and ferns, sweet with the scent +of violets and wild honey-suckle, and filled with the song of birds. +Through the middle of it purled a tiny creek which disappeared between +the ragged shoulders of rock, and close to this creek stood the cabin, +its log walls smothered under a luxuriant growth of wood-vine. But +Peter's quizzical little eyes were not measuring the beauty of the +place, nor were his ears listening to the singing of birds, or the +chattering of a red-squirrel on a stub a few yards away. He was looking +beyond the cabin, to a chalk-white mass of rock that rose like a giant +mushroom in the edge of the trees--and he was listening to the ringing +of the axe, and straining his ears to catch the sound of a voice. + +It was the voice he wanted most of all, and when this did not come he +choked back a whimper in his throat, and went down to the creek, and +waded through it, and came up cautiously behind the cabin, his eyes and +ears alert and his loosely jointed legs ready for flight at a sign of +danger. He wanted to set up his sharp yipping signal for the girl, but +the menace of the axe choked back his desire. At the very end of the +cabin, where the wood-vine grew thick and dense, Peter had burrowed +himself a hiding-place, and into this he skulked with the quickness of +a rat getting away from its enemies. From this protecting screen he +cautiously poked forth his whiskered face, to make what inventory he +could of his chances for supper and a safe home-coming. + +And as he looked forth his heart gave a sudden jump. + +It was the girl, and not the man who was using the axe today. At the +big wood-pile half a stone's throw away he saw the shimmer of her brown +curls in the sun, and a glimpse of her white face as it was turned for +an instant toward the cabin. In his gladness he would have leaped out, +but the curse of a voice he had learned to dread held him back. + +A man had come out of the cabin, and close behind the man, a woman. The +man was a long, lean, cadaverous-faced creature, and Peter knew that +the devil was in him as he stood there at the cabin door. His breath, +if one had stood close enough to smell it, was heavy with whiskey. +Tobacco juice stained the corners of his mouth, and his one eye gleamed +with an animal-like exultation as he nodded toward the girl with the +shining curls + +“Mooney says he'll pay seven-fifty for her when he gets his tie-money +from the Government, an' he paid me fifty down,” he said. “It'll help +pay for the brat's board these last ten years--an' mebby, when it comes +to a show-down, I can stick him for a thousand.” + +The woman made no answer. She was, in a way, past answering with a mind +of her own. The man, as he stood there, was wicked and cruel, every +line in his ugly face and angular body a line of sin. The woman was +bent, broken, a wreck. In her face there was no sign of a living soul. +Her eyes were dull, her heart burned out, her hands gnarled with toil +under the slavedom of a beast. Yet even Peter, quiet as a mouse where +he lay, sensed the difference between them. He had seen the girl and +this woman sobbing in each other's arms. And often he had crawled to +the woman's feet, and occasionally her hand had touched him, and +frequently she had given him things to eat. But it was seldom he heard +her voice when the man was near. + +The man was biting off a chunk of black tobacco. Suddenly he asked, + +“How old is she, Liz?” + +And the woman answered in a strange and husky voice. + +“Seventeen the twelfth day of this month.” + +The man spat. + +“Mooney ought to pay a thousand. We've had her better'n ten years--an' +Mooney's crazy as a loon to git her. He'll pay!” + +“Jed--” The woman's voice rose above its hoarseness. “Jed--it ain't +right!” + +The man laughed. He opened his mouth wide, until his yellow fangs +gleamed in the sun, and the girl with the axe paused for a moment in +her work, and flung back her head, staring at the two before the cabin +door. + +“Right?” jeered the man. “Right? That's what you been preachin' me +these last ten years 'bout whiskey-runnin,' but it ain't made me stop +sellin' whiskey, has it? An' I guess it ain't a word that'll come +between Mooney and me--not if Mooney gits his thousand.” Suddenly he +turned upon her, a hand half raised to strike. “An' if you whisper a +word to her--if y' double-cross me so much as the length of your little +finger--I'll break every bone in your body, so help me God! You +understand? You won't say anything to her?” + +The woman's uneven shoulders drooped lower. + +“I won't say ennything, Jed. I--promise.” + +The man dropped his uplifted hand with a harsh grunt. + +“I'll kill y' if you do,” he warned. + +The girl had dropped her axe, and was coming toward them. She was a +slim, bird-like creature, with a poise to her head and an up-tilt to +her chin which warned that the man had not yet beaten her to the level +of the woman. She was dressed in a faded calico, frayed at the bottom, +and with the sleeves bobbed off just above the elbows of her slim white +arms. Her stockings were mottled with patches and mends, and her shoes +were old, and worn out at the toes. + +But to Peter, worshipping her from his hiding place, she was the most +beautiful thing in the world. Jolly Roger had said the same thing, and +most men--and women, too--would have agreed that this slip of a girl +possessed a beauty which it would take a long time for unhappiness and +torture to crush entirely out of her. Her eyes were as blue as the +violets Peter had thrust his nose among that day. And her hair was a +glory, loosed by her exertion from its bondage of faded ribbon, and +falling about her shoulders and nearly to her waist in a mass of +curling brown tresses that at times had made even Jed Hawkins' one eye +light of with admiration. And yet, even in those times, he hated her, +and more than once his bony fingers had closed viciously in that mass +of radiant hair, but seldom could he wring a scream of pain from Nada. +Even now, when she could see the light of the devil in his one gleaming +eye, it was only her flesh--and not her soul--that was afraid. + +But the strain had begun to show its mark. In the blue of her eyes was +the look of one who was never free of haunting visions, her cheeks were +pallid, and a little too thin, and the vivid redness of her lips was +not of health and happiness, but a touch of the color which should have +been in her face, and which until now had refused to die. + +She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm. + +“I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her,” she cried in +a fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming loathing and +hatred at him. “If you hit her once more--something is going to happen. +If you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand it. But--look at her! +You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled her--an' you oughta die!” + +The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him Peter +felt something he had never felt before. For the first time in his life +he had no desire to run away from the man. Something rose up from his +bony little chest, and grew in his throat, until it was a babyish snarl +so low that no human ears could hear it. And in his hiding-place his +needle-like fangs gleamed under snarling lips. + +But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his fingers in +the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if something was choking +him, and turned away with a toss of his arms. + +“You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?” he said, and +disappeared around the end of the cabin. + +The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but she was +trembling. + +“I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any more,” she +comforted. “If he does, I'll end him. I will! I'll bring the police. +I'll show 'em the places where he hides his whiskey. I'll--I'll put him +in jail, if I die for it!” + +The woman's bony hands clutched at one of Nada's. + +“No, no, you mustn't do that,” she pleaded. “He was good to me once, a +long time ago, Nada. It ain't Jed that's bad--it's the whiskey. You +mustn't tell on him, Nada--you mustn't!” + +“I've promised you I won't--if he don't hit you any more. He kin shake +me by the hair if he wants to. But if he hits you--” + +She drew a deep breath, and also passed around the end of the cabin. + +For a few moments Peter listened. Then he slipped back through the +tunnel he had made under the wood-vine, and saw Nada walking swiftly +toward the break in the ridge. He followed, so quietly that she was +through the break, and was picking her way among the tumbled masses of +rock along the farther foot of the ridge, before she discovered his +presence. With a glad cry she caught him up in her arms and hugged him +against her breast. + +“Peter, Peter, where have you been?” she demanded. “I thought something +had happened to you, and I've been huntin' for you, and so has Roger--I +mean Mister Jolly Roger.” + +Peter was hugged tighter, and he hung limply until his mistress came to +a thick little clump of dwarf balsams hidden among the rocks. It was +their “secret place,” and Peter had come to sense the fact that its +mystery was not to be disclosed. Here Nada had made her little bower, +and she sat down now upon a thick rug of balsam boughs, and held Peter +out in front of her, squatted on his haunches. A new light had come +into her eyes, and they were shining like stars. There was a flush in +her cheeks, her red lips were parted, and Peter, looking up--and being +just dog--could scarcely measure the beauty of her. But he knew that +something had happened, and he tried hard to understand. + +“Peter, he was here ag'in today--Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger,” she +cried softly, the pink in her cheeks growing brighter. “And he told me +I was pretty!” + +She drew a deep breath, and looked out over the rocks to the valley and +the black forest beyond. And her fingers, under Peter's scrawny +armpits, tightened until he grunted. + +“And he asked me if he could touch my hair--mind you he asked me that, +Peter!--And when I said 'yes' he just put his hand on it, as if he was +afraid, and he said it was beautiful, and that I must take wonderful +care of it!” + +Peter saw a throbbing in her throat. + +“Peter--he said he didn't want to do anything wrong to me, that he'd +cut off his hand first. He said that! And then he said--if I didn't +think it was wrong--he'd like to kiss me--” + +She hugged Peter up close to her again. + +“And--I told him I guessed it wasn't wrong, because I liked him, and +nobody else had ever kissed me, and--Peter--he didn't kiss me! And when +he went away he looked so queer--so white-like--and somethin' inside me +has been singing ever since. I don't know what it is, Peter. But it's +there!” + +And then, after a moment. + +“Peter,” she whispered, “I wish Mister Jolly Roger would take us away!” + +The thought drew a tightening to her lips, and the pucker of a frown +between her eyes, and she sat Peter down beside her and looked over the +valley to the black forest, in the heart of which was Jolly Roger's +cabin. + +“It's funny he don't want anybody to know he's there, ain't it--I +mean--isn't it, Peter?” she mused. “He's livin' in the old shack Indian +Tom died in last winter, and I've promised not to tell. He says it's a +great secret, and that only you, and I, and the Missioner over at +Sucker Creek know anything about it. I'd like to go over and clean up +the shack for him. I sure would.” + +Peter, beginning to nose among the rocks, did not see the flash of fire +that came slowly into the blue of the girl's eyes. She was looking at +her ragged shoes, at the patched stockings, at the poverty of her faded +dress, and her fingers clenched in her lap. + +“I'd do it--I'd go away--somewhere--and never come back, if it wasn't +for her,” she breathed. “She treats me like a witch most of the time, +but Jed Hawkins made her that way. I kin remember--” + +Suddenly she jumped up, and flung back her head defiantly, so that her +hair streamed out in a sun-filled cloud in a gust of wind that came up +the valley. + +“Some day, I'll kill 'im,” she cried to the black forest across the +plain. “Some day--I will!” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering in her +brain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her +unhappiness, so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of it. +But today the betrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in a hard +little voice she had told Jolly Roger--the stranger who had come into +the black forest--how her mother and father had died of the same plague +more than ten years ago, and how Jed Hawkins and his woman had promised +to keep her for three silver fox skins which her father had caught +before the sickness came. That much the woman had confided in her, for +she was only six when it happened. And she had not dared to look at +Jolly Roger when she told him of what had passed since then, so she saw +little of the hardening in his face as he listened. But he had blown +his nose--hard. It was a way with Jolly Roger, and she had not known +him long enough to understand what it meant. And a little later he had +asked her if he might touch her hair--and his big hand had lain for a +moment on her head, as gently as a woman's. + +Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that hand. It +had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as Peter's +vanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the same for him. +Peter was no longer afraid, and the girl was no longer afraid, and +together they went along the slope of the ridge, until they came to a +dried-up coulee which was choked with a wild upheaval of rock. Here +Peter suddenly stopped, with his nose to the ground, and then his legs +stiffened, and for the first time the girl heard the babyish growl in +his throat. For a moment she stood very still, and listened, and +faintly there came to her a sound, as if someone was scraping rock +against rock. The girl drew in a quick breath; she stood straighter, +and Peter--looking up--saw her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And +then she bent down, and picked up a jagged stick. + +“We'll go up, Peter,” she whispered. “It's one of his hiding-places!” + +There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no longer +afraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating little heart +as he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl on tip-toe, and +Peter making no sound with his soft footpads, so that Jed Hawkins was +still on his knees, with his back toward them, when they came out into +a square of pebbles and sand between two giant masses of rock. +Yesterday, or the day before, both Peter and Nada would have slunk +back, for Jed was at his devil's work, and only evil could come to the +one who discovered him at it. He had scooped out a pile of sand from +under the edge of the biggest rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy +leather flasks from a jug which he had pulled from the hole. And then +he paused to drink. They could hear the liquor gurgling down his throat. + +Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot the +man whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he saw who +it was, and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, his two big +fists clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her. + +“You damned--spy!” he cried chokingly. “If you was a man--I'd kill you!” + +The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spots +flamed in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her eyes. +And there was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, as she said +tauntingly. + +“If I was a man, Jed Hawkins--you'd run!” + +He took a step toward her. + +“You'd run,” she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a tighter +grip of her stick. “I ain't ever seen you hit anything but a woman, an' +a girl, or some poor animal that didn't dare bite back. You're a +coward, Jed Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey-sellin' coward--and +you oughta die!” + +Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this moment +between the two big rocks. It held something in the air, like the +impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the world. He +forgot himself, and looked up at his mistress, a wonderful, slim little +thing standing there at last unafraid before the future--and in his dog +heart and soul a part of the truth came to him, and he planted his big +feet squarely in front of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had +never snarled before in his life. + +And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he had +humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without suspicion +until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After that--after he +had delivered her to the other's shack--it would all be up to Mooney, +he figured. And this was what had come of his peace-loving efforts! She +was taking advantage of him, defying him, spying upon him--the brat he +had fed and brought up for ten years! Her beauty as she stood there did +not hold him back. It was punishment she needed, a beating, a +hair-pulling, until there was no breath left in her impudent body. He +sprang forward, and Peter let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her +stick. But she was a moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his +right hand shot forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of +her hair. + +It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, this +hour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. All things +in the world were blotted out for him except one--the six inches of +naked shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and his shoe. He dove +in. His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, sank into it. And a wild +and terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins as he loosed the girl's hair. +Peter heard the yell, and his teeth sank deeper in the flesh of the +first thing he had ever hated. It was the girl, more than Peter, who +realized the horror of what followed. The man bent down and his +powerful fingers closed round Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his +wind suddenly shut off, and his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew +back the arm that held him, as he would have drawn it back to fling a +stone. + +With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, and +Peter went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him fiercely +across the face, and in that same moment there was a sickening, +crushing thud as Peter's loosely-jointed little body struck against the +face of the great rock. When Nada turned Peter was groveling in the +sand, his hips and back broken down, but his bright eyes were on her, +and without a whimper or a whine he was struggling to drag himself +toward her. Only Jolly Roger could tell the story of how Peter's mother +had died for a woman, and in this moment it must have been that her +spirit entered into Peter's soul, for the pain of his terrible hurt was +forgotten in his desire to drag himself back to the feet of the girl, +and die facing her enemy--the man. He did not know that he was dragging +his broken body only an inch at a time through the sand. But the girl +saw the terrible truth, and with a cry of agony which all of Hawkin's +torture could not have wrung from her she ran to him, and fell upon her +knees, and gathered him tenderly in her arms. Then, in a flash, she was +on her feet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little demon. + +“For that--I'll kill you!” she panted. “I will. I'll kill you!” + +The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but he +was coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as the +man's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind her a wild fear +possessed her--fear for Peter, and not for herself. Very soon Hawkins +was left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at the +fate that had robbed him of an eye. + +Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran +Nada, her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter +to her breast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, +just as once upon a time she had heard a baby cry--a little baby that +was dying. And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that Peter, +too, was dying. And as she stumbled onward--on toward the black forest, +she put her face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name. + +“Peter--Peter--Peter--” + +And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voice +even in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, +and the girl's breath came in a great sob as she staggered on. + +“It's all right now, Peter,” she crooned. “It's all right, baby. He +won't hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to Mister +Roger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy--” + +Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her, +just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when the baby +died. For their grief, in God's reckoning of things, was the same; and +little Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that had made them +one in flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, +crying softly to her, and content to die there close to the warmth of +the creature he loved. + +“Don't cry, baby,” she soothed. “Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soon be +all right--all right--” And the sob came again into her throat, and +clung there like a choking fist, until they came to the edge of the big +forest. + +She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not until +then did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there +was no difference at all between the dying baby's face and dying +Peter's, except that one had been white and soft, and Peter's was +different--and covered with hair. + +“God'll take care o' you, Peter,” she whispered. “He will--God, 'n' me, +and Mister Roger--” + +She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not even +God, would ever take care of Peter again--in life. His still little +face and the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. For Peter's +back was broken, and he was going--going even now--as she ran moaningly +with him through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he died, +before his heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach Jolly +Roger's friendly cabin, in the big swamp beyond the creek. It was not +that he could save Peter, but something told her that Jolly Roger's +presence would make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her, +for in this first glad spring of her existence the stranger in the +forest shack had brought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her +life; and they had set him up, she and Peter, as they would have set up +a god on a shrine. + +So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good half +mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She was +staggering, and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and when she +saw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she remembered what Jolly +Roger had said about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes widened. +Then she looked down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms, +and she drew a quick breath and made up her mind. She knew that at this +shallow place the water could not be more than up to her waist, even at +the flood-tide. But it was running like a mill-race. + +She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them there +for a moment, and kissed him. + +“We'll make it, Peter,” she whispered. “We ain't afraid, are we, baby? +We'll make it--sure--sure--we'll make it--” + +She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to her +knees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the water +seemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and tugging at +her as the water deepened to her waist. In another moment she was +fighting, fighting to hold her feet, struggling to keep the forces from +driving her downstream. And then came the supreme moment, close to the +shore for which she was striving. She felt herself giving away, and she +cried out brokenly for Peter not to be afraid. And then something drove +pitilessly against her body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter +close with the other--and caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded +like a handle from the black and slippery log the flood-water had +brought down upon her. + +“We're all right, Peter,” she cried, even in that moment when she knew +she had lost. “We're all ri--” + +And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with her +went Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush of the +flood. + +Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow she +was not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been of the +flood-rush of waters that smashed down the creeks in springtime. An +inundating roar was over her, under her, and all about her; it beat in +a hissing thunder against the drums of her ears, yet it did not +frighten her as she had sometimes been frightened. Even in that black +chaos which was swiftly suffocating the life from her, unspoken words +of cheer for Peter formed in her heart, and she struggled to hold him +to her, while with her other hand she fought to raise herself by the +stub of the log to which she clung. For she was not thinking of him as +Peter, the dog, but as something greater--something that had fought for +her that day, and because of her had died. + +Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big log, +turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space her weight +had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the water swirled +but did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then her white face, and +with a last mighty effort she thrust up Peter so that his dripping body +was on the log. Sobbingly she filled her lungs with air. But the drench +of water and her hair blinded her so that she could not see. And she +found all at once that the strength had gone from her body. Vainly she +tried to drag herself up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised +herself a little, so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like +a mighty arm from the log. + +With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was +gone, and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins +himself had often pulled it, and for a few moments the current pounded +against her body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth as it held her +there by her hair. + +If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She could +see now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool into which +the log was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, suddenly, her heart +seemed to stop its beating, and her eyes widened, and in that moment of +astounding miracle she forgot that she was hanging by her hair in the +ugly lip of the flood, with slippery hands beating and pulling at her +from below. For she saw Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making +his way toward the shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be +his dead body drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his +head was above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling-- + +Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something gave +way. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged into the +current, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the pool struck out +with all her last strength until her feet touched bottom, and she could +stand. She wiped the water from her eyes, sobbing in her breathless +fear--her mighty hope. Peter had reached the shore. He had dragged +himself out, and had crumpled down in a broken heap--but he was facing +her, his bright eyes wide open and questing for her. Slowly Nada went +to him. Until now, when it was all over, she had not realized how +helplessly weak she was. Something was turning round and round in her +head, and she was so dizzy that the shore swam before her eyes, and it +seemed quite right to her that Peter should be alive--and not dead. She +was still in a foot of water when she fell on her knees and dragged +herself the rest of the way to him, and gathered him in her arms again, +close up against her wet, choking breast. + +And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a twig +overhead; and the water that a little while before had sung of death +rippled with its old musical joy, and about them the birds sang, and +very near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels chattered and played +in a mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair brightened in the sun, and +began to ripple into curls at the end, and Peter's bristling whiskers +grew dry--so that half an hour after she had dragged herself out of the +water there was a new light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her +cheeks that was like the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a +rose. + +“We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter,” she +whispered, a little thrill in her voice. + +She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked up +Peter--and winced when he gave a little moan. + +“He'll fix you, Peter,” she comforted. “An' it'll be so nice over +here--with him.” + +Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun-filled +forest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world filled her +soul, and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill in the touch of +the soft earth under her feet. + +“Flowers,” she cried softly. “Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, Peter--” + She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of light and life +about her. And then, “I guess we'll go to Mister Jolly Roger now,” she +said. + +She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and rebellious +glory about her, and the violet light grew a little darker in her eyes, +and the color a bit deeper in her cheeks as she walked on into the +forest over the faintly worn foot-trail that led to the old cabin where +Jolly Roger was keeping himself away from the eyes of men. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +From the little old cabin of dead Indian Tom, built in a grassy glade +close to the shore of Sucker Creek, came the sound of a man's laughter. +In this late afternoon the last flooding gold of the sun filled the +open door of the poplar shack. The man's laughter, like the sun on the +mottled tapestry of the poplar-wood, was a heart-lightening thing there +on the edge of the great swamp that swept back for miles to the north +and west. It was the sort of laughter one seldom hears from a man, not +riotous of over-bold, but a big, clean laughter that came from the soul +out. It was an infectious thing. It drove the gloom out of the blackest +night. It dispelled fear, and if ever there were devils lurking in the +edge of old Indian Tom's swamp they slunk away at the sound of it. And +more than once, as those who lived in tepee and cabin and far-away +shack could testify, that laugh had driven back death itself. + +In the shack, this last day of May afternoon, stood leaning over a +rough table the man of the laugh--Roger McKay, known as Jolly Roger, +outlaw extraordinary, and sought by the men of every Royal Northwest +Mounted Police patrol north of the Height of Land. + +It was incongruous and inconceivable to think of him as an outlaw, as +he stood there in the last glow of the sun--an outlaw with the weirdest +and strangest record in all the northland hung up against his name. He +was not tall, and neither was he short, and he was as plump as an apple +and as rosy as its ripest side. There was something cherubic in the +smoothness and the fullness of his face, the clear gray of his eyes, +the fine-spun blond of his short-cropped hair, and the plumpness of his +hands and half-bared arms. He was a priestly, well-fed looking man, was +this Jolly Roger, rotund and convivial in all his proportions, and some +in great error would have called him fat. But it was a strange kind of +fatness, as many a man on the trail could swear to. And as for sin, or +one sign of outlawry, it could not be found in any mark upon +him--unless one closed his eyes to all else and guessed it by the belt +and revolver holster which he wore about his rotund waist. In every +other respect Jolly Roger appeared to be not only a harmless creature, +but one especially designed by the Creator of things to spread cheer +and good-will wherever he went. His age, if he had seen fit to disclose +it, was thirty-four. + +There seemed, at first, to be nothing that even a contented man might +laugh at in the cabin, and even less to bring merriment from one on +whose head a price was set--unless it was the delicious aroma of a +supper just about ready to be served. On a little stove in the farthest +corner of the shack the breasts of two spruce partridges were turning +golden brown in a skittle, and from the broken neck of a coffee pot a +rich perfume was rising with the steam. Piping hot in the open oven +half a dozen baked potatoes were waiting in their crisp brown jackets. + +From the table Jolly Roger turned, rubbing his hands and chuckling as +he went for a third time to a low shelf built against the cabin wall. +There he carefully raised a mass of old papers from a box, and at the +movement there came a protesting squeak, and a little brown mouse +popped up to the edge of it and peered at him with a pair of bright +little questioning eyes. + +“You little devil!” he exulted. “You nervy little devil!” + +He raised the papers higher, and again looked upon his discovery of +half an hour ago. In a soft nest lay four tiny mice, still naked and +blind, and as he lowered the mass of papers the mother burrowed back to +them, and he could hear her squeaking and chirruping to the little +ones, as if she was trying to tell them not to be afraid of this man, +for she knew him very well, and it wasn't in his mind to hurt them. And +Jolly Roger, as he returned to the setting of his table, laughed +again--and the laugh rolled out into the golden sunset, and from the +top of a spruce at the edge of the creek a big blue-jay answered it in +a riotous challenge. + +But at the bottom of that laugh, if one could have looked a bit deeper, +was something more than the naked little mice in the nest of torn-up +paper. Today happiness had strangely come this gay-hearted freebooter's +way, and he might have reached out, and seized it, and have kept it for +his own. But in the hour of his opportunity he had refused it--because +he was an outlaw--because strong within him was a peculiar code of +honor all his own. There was nothing of man-made religion in the soul +of Roger McKay. Nature was his god; its manifestations, its life, and +the air it gave him to breathe were the pages which made up the Book +that guided him. And within the last hour, since the sun had begun to +drop behind the tips of the tallest trees, these things had told him +that he was a fool for turning away from the one great thing in all +life--simply because his own humors of existence had made him an +outcast and hunted by the laws of men. So the change had come, and for +a space his soul was filled with the thrill of song and laughter. + +Half an hour ago he believed that he had definitely made up his mind. +He had forced himself into forgetfulness of laws he had broken, and the +scarlet-coated men who were ever on the watch for his trail. They would +never seek him here, in the wilderness country close to the edge of +civilization, and time, he had told himself in that moment of optimism, +would blot out both his identity and his danger. Tomorrow he would go +over to Cragg's Ridge again, and then-- + +His mind was crowded with a vision of blue eyes, of brown curls glowing +in the pale sun, of a wistful, wide-eyed little face turned up to him, +and red lips that said falteringly, “I don't think it's wrong for you +to kiss me--if you want to, Mister Jolly Roger!” + +Boldly he had talked about it to the bright-eyed little mother-mouse +who peered at him now and then over the edge of her box. + +“You're a little devil of iniquity yourself,” he told her. “You're a +regular Mrs. Captain Kidd, and you've eaten my cheese, and chawed my +snowshoe laces, and robbed me of a sock to make your nest. I ought to +catch you in a trap, or blow your head off. But I don't. I let you +live--and have a fam'ly. And it's you who have given me the Big Idea, +Mrs. Captain Kidd. You sure have! You've told me I've got a right to +have a nest of my own, and I'm going to have it--an' in that nest is +going to be the sweetest, prettiest little angel that God Almighty ever +forgot to make into a flower! Yessir. And if the law comes--” + +And then, suddenly, the vision clouded, and there came into Jolly +Roger's face the look of a man who knew--when he stood the truth out +naked--that he was facing a world with his back to the wall. + +And now, as the sun went down, and his supper waited--that cloud which +came to blot out his picture grew deeper and more sinister, and the +chill of it entered his heart. He turned from his table to the open +door, and his fingers drew themselves slowly into clenched fists, and +he looked out quietly and steadily into his world. The darkening depths +of the forest reached out before his eyes, mottled and painted in the +fading glory of the sun. It was his world, his everything--father, +mother, God. In it he was born, and in it he knew that some day he +would die. He loved it, understood it, and night and day, in sunshine +and storm, its mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company. But +it held no message for him now. And his ears scarcely heard the raucous +scolding of the blue-jay in the fire-tipped crest of the tall black +spruce. + +And then that something which was bigger than desire came up within +him, and forced itself in words between his grimly set lips. + +“She's only a--a kid,” he said, a fierce, low note of defiance in his +voice. “And I--I'm a damned pirate, and there's jails waiting for me, +and they'll get me sooner or later, sure as God lets me live!” + +He turned from the sun to his shadowing cabin, and for a moment a ghost +of a smile played in his face as he heard the little mother-mouse +rustling among her papers. + +“We can't do it,” he said. “We simply can't do it, Mrs. Captain Kidd. +She's had hell enough without me taking her into another. And it'd be +that, sooner or later. It sure would, Mrs. Captain Kidd. But I'm glad, +mighty glad, to think she'd let me kiss her--if I wanted to. Think of +that, Mrs. Captain Kidd!--if I wanted to. Oh, Lord!” + +And the humor of it crept in alongside the tragedy in Jolly Roger's +heart, and he chuckled as he bent over his partridge breasts. + +“If I wanted to,” he repeated. “Why, if I had a life to give, I'd give +it--to kiss her just once! But, as it happens, Mrs. Captain Kidd--” + +Jolly Roger's breath cut itself suddenly short, and for an instant he +grew tense as he bent over the stove. His philosophy had taught him one +thing above all others, that he was a survival of the fittest--only so +long as he survived. And he was always guarding against the end. His +brain was keen, his ears quick, and every fibre in him trained to its +duty of watchfulness. And he knew, without turning his head, that +someone was standing in the doorway behind him. There had come a faint +noise, a shadowing of the fading sun-glow on the wall, the electrical +disturbance of another presence, gazing at him quietly, without motion, +and without sound. After that first telegraphic shock of warning he +stabbed his fork into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled +loudly--and then with a lightning movement was facing the door, his +forty-four Colt leveled waist-high at the intruder. + +Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his side. + +“Well, I'll be--” + +He stared. And the face in the doorway stared back at him. + +“Nada!” he gasped. “Good Lord, I thought--I thought--” He swallowed as +he tried to lie. “I thought--it might be a bear!” + +He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little figure +of Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet. Her blue eyes were +shining at him, wide and startled. Her cheeks were flushed. A strange +look had frozen on her parted red lips, and her hair was falling loose +in a cloud of curling brown tresses about her shoulders. Jolly Roger, +dreaming of her in his insane happiness of a few minutes ago, sensed +nothing beyond the beauty and the unexpectedness of her in this first +moment. Then--swiftly--he saw the other thing. The last glow of the sun +glistened in her wet hair, her dress was sodden and clinging, and +little pools of water were widening slowly about her ragged shoes. +These things he might have expected, for she had to cross the creek. +But it was the look in her eyes that startled him, as she stood there +with Peter, the mongrel pup, clasped tightly in her arms. + +“Nada, what's happened?” he asked, laying his gun on the table. “You +fell in the creek--” + +“It--it's Peter,” she cried, with a sobbing break in her voice. “We +come on Jed Hawkins when he was diggin' up some of his whiskey, and he +was mad, and pulled my hair, and Peter bit him--and then he picked up +Peter and threw him against a rock--and he's terribly hurt! Oh, Mister +Jolly Roger--” + +She held out the pup to him, and Peter whimpered as Jolly Roger took +his wiry little face between his hands, and then lifted him gently. The +girl was sobbing, with passionate little catches in her breath, but +there were no tears in her eyes as they turned for an instant from +Peter to the gun on the table. + +“If I'd had that,” she cried, “I'd hev killed him!” + +Jolly Roger's face was coldly gray as he knelt down on the floor and +bent over Peter. + +“He--pulled your hair, you say?” + +“I--forgot,” she whispered, close at his shoulder. “I wasn't goin' to +tell you that. But it didn't hurt. It was Peter--” + +He felt the damp caress of her curls upon his neck as she bent over him. + +“Please tell me, Mister Jolly Roger--is he hurt--bad?” + +With the tenderness of a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over +Peter's scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt the +infinite consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid of Jed +Hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its +measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie +here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over +him and Jolly Roger's hands working to mend his hurt. He whimpered when +Jolly Roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little +child when there came the sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even +then he turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue +against the back of his man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he +worked, was giving instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to +bring him cloth which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten +minutes Peter's right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it was as +stiff and as useless as a piece of wood. + +“His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken,” said Jolly Roger when +he had finished. “He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will +be on his feet again.” + +He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his +bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he +turned to Nada. + +She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. And +Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had given his +storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that day. They were +blue, so blue that he had never seen violets like them--and he knew +that in her heart there was no guile behind which she could hide the +secret they were betraying. A yearning such as had never before come +into his life urged him to open his arms to her, and he knew that she +would have come into them; but a still mightier will held them tense +and throbbing at his side. Her cheeks were aflame as she looked at him, +and he told himself that God could not have made a lovelier thing, as +she stood there in her worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light +of glory in her face, and her damp hair waving and curling about her in +the last light of the day. + +“I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger,” she whispered, a great pride and +faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. “I knew it!” + +Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began +spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he said, +with his back toward her, + +“You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat--and then I'll go +home with you, as far as the Ridge.” + +Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and comfortable +in Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face on his fore-paws +his bright eyes followed every movement of these two who so completely +made up his world. He heard that sweet little laugh which came only now +and then from Nada's lips, when for a moment she was happy; he saw her +shake out her hair in the glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted, +and he observed Jolly Roger standing at the stove--looking at her as +she did it--a worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes +turned toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to +nothing of definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed +happiness, for--somehow--there was always that feeling when they were +with Jolly Roger, no matter whether the sun was shining or the day was +dark and filled with gloom. Many times in his short life he had seen +grief and tears in Nada's face, and had seen her cringe and hide +herself at the vile cursing and witch-like voice of the man and woman +back in the other cabin. But there was nothing like that in Jolly +Roger's company. He had two eyes, and he was not always cursing, and he +did not pull Nada's hair--and Peter loved him from the bottom of his +soul. And he knew that his mistress loved him, for she had told him so, +and there was always a different look in her eyes when she was with +Jolly Roger, and it was only then that she laughed in that glad little +way--as she was laughing now. + +Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, her +face flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring his coffee. +And then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the nicest of the +partridge breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes calm and quiet as he +looked at the adorable sweetness of her across the table from him. To +Nada there was nothing of shame in what lay behind the happiness in the +violet radiance of her eyes. Jolly Roger had brought to her the only +happiness that had ever come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed +Hawkins and his witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought +of this stranger who for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's +cabin. And, like Peter, she loved him. The innocence of it lay naked in +her eyes. + +“Nada,” said Jolly Roger. “You're seventeen--” + +“Goin' on eighteen,” she corrected quickly. “I was seventeen two weeks +ago!” + +The quick, undefined little note of eagerness in her voice made his +heart thump. He nodded, and smiled. + +“Yes, going on eighteen,” he said. “And pretty soon some young fellow +will come along, and see you, and marry you--” + +“O-o-o-h-h-h!” + +It was a little, strange cry that came to her lips, and Jolly Roger saw +a quick throbbing in her bare throat, and her eyes were so wide-open +and startled as she looked at him that he felt, for a moment, as if the +resolution in his soul was giving way. + +“Where are you goin', Mister Roger?” + +“Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere--not for a time, at least. But +you--you'll surely be going away with some one--some day.” + +“I won't,” she denied hotly. “I hate men! I hate all but you, Mister +Jolly Roger. And if you go away--” + +“Yes, if I go away-- + +“I'll kill Jed Hawkins!” + +Involuntarily she reached out a slim hand to the big gun on the corner +of the table. + +“I'll kill 'im, if you go away,” she threatened again, “He's broken his +wife, and crippled her, and if it wasn't for her I'd have gone long +ago. But I've promised, and I'm goin' to stay--until something happens. +And if you go--now--” + +At the choking throb in her throat and the sudden quiver that came to +her lips, Jolly Roger jumped up for the coffee pot, though his cup was +still half full. + +“I won't go, Nada,” he cried, trying to laugh. “I promise--cross my +heart and hope to die! I won't go--until you tell me I can.” + +And then, feeling that something had almost gone wrong for a moment, +Peter yipped from his nest in the bunk, and the gladness in Nada's eyes +thanked Jolly Roger for his promise when he came back with the coffee +pot. Standing behind her, he made pretense of refilling her cup, though +she had scarcely touched it, and all the time his eyes were looking at +her beautiful head, and he saw again the dampness in her hair. + +“What happened in the creek, Nada?” he asked. + +She told him, and at the mention of his name Peter drew his bristling +little head erect, and waited expectantly. He could see Jolly Roger's +face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a quick smile +flashing over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly Roger leaned a +little toward her in the lampglow, and said, + +“You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever hits you +again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it--will you tell +me?” Nada hesitated. + +“If you don't--I'll take back my promise, and won't stay,” he added. + +“Then--I'll promise,” she said. “If he does it, I'll tell you. But I +ain't--I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins will sure +kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep him here? +And--o-o-o-h!--if I could only stay, too--” + +The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant a +flood of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger turned +again to the stove, and made as if he had not seen the blush or heard +her last words, so that the shame of her embarrassment was gone as +quickly as it had come. + +“Yes, I'll keep Peter,” he said over his shoulder. And in his heart +another voice which she could not hear, was crying, “And I'd give my +life if I could keep you!” + +Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger and +Nada out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half an hour +later. It was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed only the +mosquito-screen, leaving the door wide open, and Peter could hear their +footsteps disappearing slowly into the deep gloom of the forest. It was +a little before moonrise, and under the spruce and cedar and thick +balsam the world was like a black pit. It was very still, and except +for the soft tread of their own feet and the musical ripple of water in +the creek there was scarcely a sound in this first hour of the night. +In Jolly Roger there rose something of exultation, for Nada's warm +little hand lay in his as he guided her through the darkness, and her +fingers had clasped themselves tightly round his thumb. She was very +close to him when he paused to make sure of the unseen trail, so close +that her cheek rested against his arm, and--bending a little--his lips +touched the soft ripples of her hair. But he could not see her in the +gloom, and his heart pounded fiercely all the way to the ford. + +Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like Jolly +Roger. + +“I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada,” he said. + +Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of losing him +there in the blackness that lay about them like a great ink-blotch. And +she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all the power in his soul +fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from putting his arms about her slim +little body and crying out the worship that was in him. + +“I ain't--I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet,” he heard her whisper +then. “You're so big and strong, Mister Roger--” + +Gently he freed his thumb from her fingers, and picked her up, and held +her high, so that she was against his breast and above the deepest of +the water. Lightly at first Nada's arms lay about his shoulders, but as +the flood began to rush higher and she felt him straining against +it,--her arms tightened, until the clasp of them was warm and thrilling +round Jolly Roger's neck. She gave a big gasp of relief when he stood +her safely down upon her feet on the other side. And then again she +reached out, and found his hand, and twined her fingers about his big +thumb--and Jolly Roger went on with her over the plain toward Cragg's +Ridge, dripping wet, just as the rim of the moon began to rise over the +edge of the eastern forests. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed an interminable wait to Peter, back in the cabin. Jolly Roger +had put out the light, and when the moon came up the glow of it did not +come into the dark room where Peter lay, for the open door was to the +west, and curtains were drawn closely at both windows. But through the +door he could see the first mellowing of the night, and after that the +swift coming of a soft, golden radiance which swallowed all darkness +and filled his world with the ghostly shadows which seemed alive, yet +never made a sound. It was a big, splendid moon this night, and Peter +loved the moon, though he had seen it only a few times in his three +months of life. It fascinated him more than the sun, for it was always +light when the sun came, and he had never seen the sun eat up darkness, +as the moon did. Its mystery awed him, but did not frighten. He could +not quite understand the strange, still shadows which were always +unreal when he nosed into them, and it puzzled him why the birds did +not fly about in the moon glow, and sing as they did in the day-time. +And something deep in him, many generations older than himself, made +his blood run faster when this thing that ate up darkness came creeping +through the sky, and he was filled with a yearning to adventure out +into the strange glow of it, quietly and stealthily, watching and +listening for things he had never seen or heard. + +In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon the +open door, and for a long time he listened only for the returning +footsteps of Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts to drag +himself to the edge of the bunk, but the movement sent such a cutting +pain through him that he did not make a third. And outside, after a +time, he heard the Night People rousing themselves. They were very +cautious, these Night People, for unlike the creatures of the dawn, +waking to greet the sun with song and happiness, most of them were +sharp-fanged and long-clawed-rovers and pirates of the great +wilderness, ready to kill. And this, too, Peter sensed through the +generations of northland dog that was in him. He heard a wolf howl, +coming faintly through the night from miles away, and something told +him it was not a dog. From nearer came the call of a moose, and that +same sense told him he had heard a monster bear which his eyes had +never seen. He did not know of the soft-footed, night-eyed creatures of +prey--the fox, the lynx, the fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine, nor +of the round-eyed, feathered murderers in the tree-tops--yet that same +something told him they were out there among the shadows, under the +luring glow of the moon. And a thing happened, all at once, to stab the +truth home to him. A baby snowshoe rabbit, a third grown, hopped out +into the open close to the cabin door, and as it nibbled at the green +grass, a gray catapult of claw and feathers shot out of the air, and +Peter heard the crying agony of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into +the thick spruce tops. Even then--unafraid--Peter wanted to go out into +the moon glow! + +At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and Jolly +Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and stopped in +front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and looking into +the west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over the tree-tops. There +was a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but he choked it back. Jolly +Roger was strangely quiet, and Peter could not hear Nada, and as he +sniffed, and gulped the lump in his throat, he seemed to catch the +breath of something impending in the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and +sat down in darkness near the table, and for a long time Peter kept his +eyes fixed on the shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and +listened to his breathing, until he could stand it no longer, and +whined. + +The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match--and then blew +the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and stroked him with +his hand. + +“Peter,” he said in a low voice, “I guess we've got a job on our hands. +You began it today--and I've got to finish it. We're goin' to kill Jed +Hawkins!” + +Peter snuggled closer. + +“Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me,” Jolly Roger went +on in the darkness, “but until tonight I never made up my mind to kill +a man. I'm ready--now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again we're goin' to +kill him! Understand, Pied-Bot?” + +He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a nest for +Peter on the floor, and stretched himself out in the bunk; and after +that, for a long time, there seemed to be something heavier than the +gloom of night in the cabin for Peter, and he listened and waited and +prayed in his dog way for Nada's return, and wondered why it was that +she left him so long. And the Night People held high carnival under the +yellow moon, and there was flight and terror and slaughter in the glow +of it--and Jolly Roger slept, and the wolf howled nearer, and the creek +chortled its incessant song of running water, and in the end Peter's +eyes closed, and a red-eyed ermine peeped over the sill into the +man-and dog-scented stillness of the outlaw's cabin. + +For many days after this first night in the cabin, Peter did not see +Nada. There was more rain, and the creek flooded higher, so that each +time Jolly Roger went over to Cragg's Ridge he took his life in his +hands in fording the stream. Peter saw no one but Jolly Roger, and at +the end of the second week he was going about on his mended leg. But +there would always be a limp in his gait, and always his right +hind-foot would leave a peculiar mark in the trail. + +These two weeks of helplessness were an education in Peter's life and +were destined to leave their mark upon him always. He learned to know +Jolly Roger, not alone from seeing events, but through an intuitive +instinct that grew swiftly somewhere in his shrewd head. This instinct, +given widest scope in these weeks of helplessness, developed faster +than any other in him, until in the end, he could judge Jolly Roger's +humor by the sound of his approaching footsteps. Never was there a +waking hour in which he was not fighting to comprehend the mystery of +the change that had come over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and +each day that passed put her farther away from him, yet he also sensed +the fact that Jolly Roger went to her, and when the outlaw returned to +the cabin Peter was filled with a yearning hope that Nada was returning +with him. + +But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about Jolly +Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man which was +greater than all other things in his world. And in these days Jolly +Roger found in Peter's comradeship and growing understanding a +comforting outlet for the things which at times consumed him. Peter saw +it all--hours when Jolly Roger's voice and laughter filled the cabin +with cheer and happiness, and others when his face was set in grim +lines, with that hard, far-away look in his eyes that Peter could never +quite make out. It was at such times, when Jolly Roger held a choking +grip on the love in his heart, that he told Peter things which he had +never revealed to a human soul. + +In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the +creek, he said to Peter, + +“We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight. +Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for her. +I'd die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a prison +cell--if I could have her with me. And that's dangerous, Peter, because +we can't have her. It's impossible, boy. She doesn't guess why I'm +here. She doesn't know I've been outlawin' it for years, and that I'm +hiding here because the Police would never think of looking for Jolly +Roger McKay this close to civilization. If I told her, she would think +I was worse than Jed Hawkins, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her +I've outlawed with my wits instead of a gun, and that I've never +criminally hurt a person in my life. No, she wouldn't believe that, +Peter. And she--she cares for me, Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And +she's got faith in me, and would go with me to the Missioner's +tomorrow. I know it. I can see it, feel it, and I--” + +His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck. + +“Peter,” he whispered in the thickening darkness. “I believe there's a +God, but He's a different sort of God than most people believe in. He +lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in the birds, the sky, in +everything--and I hope that God will strike me dead if I do what isn't +right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he strikes me dead!” + +And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly in +his bunk, and slept but little. + +But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding over the +wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he cooked their +breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling thing about this man. +With gloom and oppression fastened upon him he would rise up suddenly, +and start whistling or singing, and once he said to Peter, + +“I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, no +matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see it. A +laugh never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung.” + +Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By that +time he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the fording-place, +and there he would wait, sometimes hours at a stretch, while his +comrade and master went over to Cragg's Ridge. But frequently Jolly +Roger would not cross, but remained with Peter, and would lie on his +back at the edge of a grassy knoll they had found, reading one of the +little old-fashioned red books which Peter knew were very precious to +him. Often he wondered what was between the faded red covers that was +so interesting, and if he could have read he would have seen such +titles as “Margaret of Anjou,” “History of Napoleon,” “History of Peter +the Great,” “Caesar,” “Columbus the Discoverer,” and so on through the +twenty volumes which Jolly Roger had taken from a wilderness mail two +years before, and which he now prized next to his life. + +This afternoon, as they lay in the sleepy quiet of June, Jolly Roger +answered the questioning inquisitiveness in Peter's face and eyes. + +“You see, Pied-Bot, it was this way,” he said, beginning a little +apologetically. “I was dying for something to read, and I figgered +there'd be something on the Mail--newspapers, you know. So I stopped +it, and tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I didn't take +anything else--that time. There's twenty of them, and they weigh nine +pounds, and in the last two years I've toted them five thousand miles. +I wouldn't trade them for my weight in gold, and I'm pretty heavy. I +named you after one of them--Peter. I pretty near called you +Christopher Columbus. And some day we've got to take these books to the +man they were going to, Peter. I've promised myself that. It seems sort +of like stealing the soul out of someone. I just borrowed them, that's +all. And I've kept the address of the owner, away up on the edge of the +Barrens. Some day we're going to make a special trip to take the books +home.” + +Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and +following the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada +standing quietly on the opposite side of the stream, looking at them. +In a moment Peter knew her, and he was trembling in every muscle when +Jolly Roger caught him up under his arm, and with a happy laugh plunged +through the creek with him. For a good five minutes after that Jolly +Roger stood aside watching Peter and Nada, and there was a glisten of +dampness in his eyes when he saw the wet on Nada's cheeks, and the +whimpering joy of Peter as he caressed her face and hands. Three weeks +had been a long time to Peter, but he could see no difference in the +little mistress he worshipped. There were still the radiant curls to +hide his nose in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, the warm thrill of +her body as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know that she had +new shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had gone from her +red lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could no longer +hide the old haunted look in her eyes. + +But Jolly Roger saw the look, and the growing pallor, and had noted +them for two weeks past. And later that afternoon, when Nada returned +to Cragg's Ridge, and he re-crossed the stream with Peter, there was a +hard and terrible look in his eyes which Peter had caught there more +and more frequently of late. And that evening, in the twilight of their +cabin, Jolly Roger said, + +“It's coming soon, Peter. I'm expecting it. Something is happening +which she won't tell us about. She is afraid for me. I know it. But I'm +going to find out--soon. And then, Pied-Bot, I think we'll probably +kill Jed Hawkins, and hit for the North.” + +The gloom of foreboding that was in Jolly Roger's voice and words +seemed to settle over the cabin for many days after that, and more than +ever Peter sensed the thrill and warning of that mysterious something +which was impending. He was developing swiftly, in flesh and bone and +instinct, and there began to possess him now the beginning of that +subtle caution and shrewdness which were to mean so much to him later +on. An instinct greater than reason, if it was not reason itself, told +him that his master was constantly watching for something which did not +come. And that same instinct, or reason, impinged upon him the fact +that it was a thing to be guarded against. He did not go blindly into +the mystery of things now. He circumvented them, and came up from +behind. Craft and cunning replaced mere curiosity and puppyish egoism. +He was quick to learn, and Jolly Roger's word became his law, so that +only once or twice was he told a thing, and it became a part of his +understanding. While the keen, shrewd brain of his Airedale father +developed inside Peter's head, the flesh and blood development of his +big, gentle, soft-footed Mackenzie hound mother kept pace in his body. +His legs and feet began to lose their grotesqueness. Flesh began to +cover the knots in his tail. His head, bristling fiercely with wiry +whiskers, seemed to pause for a space to give his lanky body a chance +to catch up with it. And in spite of his big feet, so clumsy that a few +weeks ago they had stumbled over everything in his way, he could now +travel without making a sound. + +So it came to pass, after a time, that when Peter heard footsteps +approaching the cabin he made no effort to reveal himself until he knew +it was Jolly Roger who was coming. And this was strangely in spite of +the fact that in the five weeks since Nada had brought him from Cragg's +Ridge no one but Jolly Roger and Nada had set foot within sight of the +shack. It was an inborn caution, growing stronger in him each day. +There came one early evening when Peter made a discovery. He had +returned with Jolly Roger from a fishing trip farther down the creek, +and scarcely had he set nose to the little clearing about the cabin +when he caught the presence of a strange scent. He investigated it +swiftly, and found it all about the cabin, and very strong close up +against the cabin door. There were no doubts in Peter's mind. A man had +been there, and this man had gone around and around the cabin, and had +opened the door, and had even gone inside, for Peter found the scent of +him on the floor. He tried, in a way, to tell Jolly Roger. He bristled, +and whined, and looked searchingly into the darkening edge of the +forest. Jolly Roger quested with him for a few moments, and when he +failed to find marks in the ground he began cleaning a fish for supper, +and said. + +“Probably a wolverine, Pied-Bot. The rascal came to see what he could +find while we were away.” + +But Peter was not satisfied. He was restless all that night. Sounds +which had been familiar now held a new significance for him. The next +day he was filled with a quiet but brooding expectancy. He resented the +intrusion of the strange footprints. It was, in his process of +instinctive reasoning, an encroachment upon the property rights of his +master, and he was--true to the law of his species--the guardian of +those rights. + +The fourth evening after the stranger's visit to the cabin Jolly Roger +was later than usual in returning from Cragg's Ridge. Peter had been on +a hunting adventure of his own, and came to the cabin at sunset. But he +never came out of cover now without standing quietly for a few moments, +getting the wind, and listening. And tonight, poking his head between +some balsams twenty yards from the shack, he was treated to a sudden +thrill. The cabin door was open. And standing close to this door, +looking quietly and cautiously about, stood a stranger. He was not like +Jed Hawkins, was Peter's first impression. He was tall, with a +wide-brimmed hat, and wore boots with striped trousers tucked into +them, and on his coat were bits of metal which caught the last gleams +of the sun. Peter knew nothing of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. +But he sensed danger, and he remained very quiet, without moving a +muscle of his head or body, while the stranger looked about, with a +hand on his unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he entered the cabin, +and closed the door after him, did Peter move back into the deeper +gloom of the forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked through +cover to the foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, across which +Jolly Roger would come from Cragg's Ridge. + +There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. +Peter did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. He +remained sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears flattened, and +in his whole attitude no sign of gladness at his master's coming. With +every instinct of caution developed to the highest degree within him, +Jolly Roger was lightning quick to observe the significance of small +things. He spoke to Peter, caressed him with his hand, and moved on +along the foot-trail toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him +moodily, and after a few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches +again. Jolly Roger was puzzled. + +“What is it, Peter?” he asked. “Are you afraid of that wolverine--” + +Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, and his +eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail beyond the +outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he disappeared around a +twist in the path. There he stopped, and peered back. Peter was not +following him, but still sat where he had left him. A quicker breath +came to Jolly Roger's lips, and he went back to Peter. For fully a +minute he stood beside him, watching and listening, and not once did +the reddish glare in Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. +Jolly Roger's eyes had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on +his knees beside Peter, and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear. + +“You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying to +tell me?” + +Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes from +ahead. + +There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his feet, +and he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the forest, and in +the gloom that was gathering there his hand carried the big automatic. +Peter followed him now, and Jolly Roger swung in a wide circle, so that +they came up on that forest side of the cabin where there was no +window. And here Jolly Roger knelt down beside Peter again, and +whispered to him. + +“You stay here, Pied-Bot. Understand? You stay here.” + +He pressed him down gently with his hand, so that Peter understood. +Then, slinking low, and swift as a cat, Jolly Roger ran to the end of +the cabin where there was no window. With his head close to the ground +he peered out cautiously at the door. It was closed. Then he looked at +the windows. To the west the curtains were up, as he had left them. And +to the east-- + +A whimsical smile played at the corners of his mouth. Those curtains he +had kept tightly drawn. One of them was down now. But the other was +raised two inches, so that one hidden within the cabin could watch the +approach from the trail! + +He drew back, and under his breath he chuckled. He recognized the sheer +nerve of the thing, the clever handiwork of it. Someone was inside the +cabin, and he was ready to stake his life it was Cassidy, the Irish +bloodhound of “M” Division. If anyone ferreted him out way down here on +the edge of civilization he had gambled with himself that it would be +Cassidy. And Cassidy had come--Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to his +trails for three years, who had chased him across the Barren Lands, who +had followed him up the Mackenzie, and back again--who had fought with +him, and starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought +him to prison. Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy. They +had played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that +game had become the life's ambition of each. And now Cassidy was in +there, confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for him to +step into the trap. + +To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a +deep-seated humor in the situation. Three times in the last year and a +half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him floundering in +the cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had placed for his victim. +This was the fourth time. And Cassidy would be tremendously upset! + +Praying that Peter would remain quiet, Jolly Roger took off his shoes. +After that he made no more sound than a ferret as he crept to the door. +An inch at a time he raised himself, until he was standing up, with his +ear half an inch from the crack that ran lengthwise of the frame. +Holding his breath, he listened. For an interminable time, it seemed to +him, there was no sound from within. He guessed what Cassidy was +doing--peering through that slit of window under the curtain. But he +was not absolutely sure. And he knew the necessity of making no error, +with Cassidy in there, gripping the butt of his gun. + +Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet distinct, +were moving from the window toward the door. Half way they paused, and +turned to one of the windows looking westward. But it was evident the +watcher was not expecting his game from that direction, for after a +moment's silence he returned to the window through which he could see +the trail. This time Jolly Roger was sure. Cassidy was again peering +through the window, with his back toward him, and every muscle in the +forest rover's body gathered for instant action. In another moment he +had flung open the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to +find himself looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun. + +For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly Roger's, +Peter lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly popping from +his head in his eagerness to see what was happening. He heard voices, +and then the wild thrill of Jolly Roger's laughter, and restraining +himself no longer he trotted cautiously to the open door of the cabin. +In a chair sat the stranger with the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, +with his hands securely tied behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling +about, filling a shoulder-pack in the last light of the day. + +“Cassidy, I oughta kill you,” Jolly Roger was saying as he worked, an +exultant chuckle in his voice. “You don't give me any peace. No matter +where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I ever +invited you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant flowers over +you, now that I've got the chance. But I'm too chicken-hearted. +Besides, I like you. By the time you get tired of chasing me you should +be a pretty good man-hunter. But just now you lack finesse, +Cassidy--you lack finesse.” And Jolly Roger's chuckle broke into +another laugh. + +Cassidy heaved out a grunt. + +“It's luck--just damned luck!” he growled. + +“If it is, I hope it keeps up,” said Jolly Roger. “Now, look here, +Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it. If you don't get me next +time--if you fail, and I turn the trick on you once more--will you +quit?” + +Cassidy's eyes gleamed in the thickening dusk. + +“If I don't get you next time--I'll hand in my resignation!” + +The laughter went out of Jolly Roger's voice. + +“I believe you, Cassidy. You've played square--always. And now--if I +free your hands--will you swear to give me a two hours' start before +you leave this cabin?” + +“I'll give you the start,” said Cassidy. + +His lean face was growing indistinct in the gloom. + +Jolly Roger came up behind him. There was the slash of a knife. Then he +picked up his shoulder-pack. At the door he paused. + +“Look at your watch when I'm gone, Cassidy, and be sure you make it a +full two hours.” + +“I'll make it two hours and five minutes,” said Cassidy. “Hittin' north +are you, Jolly Roger?” + +“I'm hittin'--bushward,” replied the outlaw. “I'm going where it's +plenty thick and hard to travel, Cassidy. Goodby--” + +He was gone. He hit straight north, making noise as he went, but once +in the timber he swung southward, and plunged through the creek with +Peter under his arm. Not until they had traveled a good half mile over +the plain did Jolly Roger speak. Then he said, speaking directly at +Peter, + +“Cassidy thinks I'll sure hit for the North country again, Pied-Bot. +But we're foolin' him. I've sort of planned on something like this +happening, and right now we're hittin' for the tail-end of Cragg's +Ridge where there's a mess of rock that the devil himself can hardly +get into. We've got to do it, boy. We can't leave the girl--just now. +We can't leave--her--” + +Jolly Roger's voice choked. Then he paused for a moment, and bent over +to put his hand on Peter. + +“If it hadn't been for you, Peter--Cassidy would have got me--sure. And +I'm wondering, Peter--I'm wondering--why did God forget to give a dog +speech?” + +Peter whined in answer, and through the darkness of the night they went +on together. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away as +Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and Cragg's +Ridge. + +They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew the +red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise--he would wait the +full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five minutes after +that. In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed, exultation at his +achievement died away, and there filled him again the old +loneliness--the loneliness which called out against the fate which had +made of Cassidy an enemy instead of a friend. And yet--what an enemy! + +He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand. + +“Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us down,” he +protested. “Someone we could have hated, and who would have hated us! +Why did they send Cassidy--the fairest and squarest man that ever wore +red? We can't do him a dirty turn--we can't hurt him, Pied-Bot, even at +the worst. And if ever he takes us in to Headquarters, and looks at us +through the bars, I feel it's going to be like a knife in his heart. +But he'll do it, Peter, if he can. It's his job. And he's honest. We've +got to say that of Cassidy.” + +The Ridge loomed up at the edge of the level plain, and for a few +moments Jolly Roger paused, while he looked off through the eastward +gloom. A mile in that direction, beyond the cleft that ran like a great +furrow through the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, still and dark under +the faint glow of the stars. And in that cabin was Nada. He felt that +she was sitting at her little window, looking out into the night, +thinking of him--and a great desire gripped at his heart, tugging him +in its direction. But he turned toward the west. + +“We can't let her know what has happened, boy,” he said, feeling the +urge of caution. “For a little while we must let her think we have left +the country. If Cassidy sees her, and talks with her, something in +those blue-flower eyes of hers might give us away if she knew we were +hiding up among the rocks of the Stew-Kettle. But I'm hopin' God +A'mighty won't let her see Cassidy. And I'm thinking He won't, +Pied-Bot, because I've a pretty good hunch He wants us to settle with +Jed Hawkins before we go.” + +It was a habit of his years of aloneness, this talking to a creature +that could make no answer. But even in the darkness he sensed the +understanding of Peter. + +Rocks grew thicker and heavier under their feet, and they went more +slowly, and occasionally stumbled in the gloom. But, after a fashion, +they knew their way even in darkness. More than once Peter had wondered +why his master had so carefully explored this useless mass of upheaved +rock at the end of Cragg's Ridge. They had never seen an animal or a +blade of grass in all its gray, sun-blasted sterility. It was like a +hostile thing, overhung with a half-dead, slow-beating something that +was like the dying pulse of an evil thing. And now darkness added to +its mystery and its unfriendliness as Peter nosed close at his master's +heels. Up and up they picked their way, over and between ragged +upheavals of rock, twisting into this broken path and that, feeling +their way, partly sensing it, and always ascending toward the stars. +Roger McKay did not speak again to Peter. Each time he came out where +the sky was clear he looked toward the solitary dark pinnacle, far up +and ahead, strangely resembling a giant tombstone in the star-glow, +that was their guide. And after many minutes of strange climbing, in +which it seemed to Jolly Roger the nail-heads in the soles of his boots +made weirdly loud noises on the rocks, they came near to the top. + +There they stopped, and in a deeply shadowed place where there was a +carpet of soft sand, with walls of rock close on either side, Jolly +Roger spread out his blankets. Then he went out from the black shadow, +so that a million stars seemed not far away over their heads. Here he +sat down, and began to smoke, thinking of what tomorrow would hold for +him, and of the many days destined to follow that tomorrow. Nowhere in +the world was there to be--for him--the peace of an absolute certainty. +Not until he felt the cold steel of iron bars with his two hands, and +the fatal game had been played to the end. + +There was no corrosive bitterness of the vengeful in Jolly Roger's +heart. For that reason even his enemies, the Police, had fallen into +the habit of using the nickname which the wilderness people had given +him. He did not hate these police. Curiously, he loved them. Their type +was to him the living flesh and blood of the finest manhood since the +Crusaders. And he did not hate the law. At times the Law, as +personified in all of its unswerving majesty, amused him. It was so +terribly serious over such trivial things--like himself, for instance. +It could not seem to sleep or rest until a man was hanged, or snugly +put behind hard steel, no matter how well that man loved his +human-kind--and the world. And Jolly Roger loved both. In his heart he +believed he had not committed a crime by achieving justice where +otherwise there would have been no justice. Yet outwardly he cursed +himself for a lawbreaker. And he loved life. He loved the stars +silently glowing down at him tonight. He loved even the gray, lifeless +rock, which recalled to his imaginative genius the terrific and +interesting life that had once existed--he loved the ghostly majesty of +the grave-like pinnacle that rose above him, and beyond that he loved +all the world. + +But most of all, more than his own life or all that a thousand lives +might hold for him, he loved the violet-eyed girl who had come into his +life from the desolation and unhappiness of Jed Hawkins' cabin. + +Forgetting the law, forgetting all but her, he went at last into the +dungeon-like gloom between the rocks, and after Peter had wallowed +himself a bed in the carpet of sand they fell asleep. + +They awoke with the dawn. But for three days thereafter they went forth +only at night, and for three days did not show themselves above the +barricade of rocks. The Stew-Kettle was what Jolly Roger had called it, +and when the sun was straight above, or descending with the last half +of the day, the name fitted. + +It was a hot place, so hot that at a distance its piled-up masses of +white rock seemed to simmer and broil in the blazing heat of the July +sun. Neither man nor beast would look into the heart of it, Jolly Roger +had assured Peter, unless the one was half-witted and the other a fool. +Looking at it from the meadowy green plain that lay between the Ridge +and the forest their temporary retreat was anything but a temptation to +the eye. Something had happened there a few thousand centuries before, +and in a moment of evident spleen and vexation the earth had vomited up +that pile of rock debris, and Jolly Roger good humoredly told himself +and Peter that it was an act of Providence especially intended for +them, though planned and erupted some years before they were born. + +The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon action. + +This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had seemed +to concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though it was now +almost sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence still hovered +about it. The huge masses of stone were like baked things to the touch +of hand and foot, and one breathed a smoldering air in between their +gray and white walls. + +Thus forbidding looked the Stew-Kettle, when viewed from the plain. But +from the top-most crag of the mass, which rose a hundred feet high at +the end of the Ridge, one might find his reward for a blistering climb. +On all sides, a paradise of green and yellow and gold, stretched the +vast wilderness, studded with shimmering lakes that gleamed here and +there from out of their rich dark frames of spruce and cedar and +balsam. And half way between the edge of the plain and this highest +pinnacle of rock, utterly hidden from the eyes of both man and beast, +nestled the hiding place which Jolly Roger and Peter had found. + +It was a cool and cavernous spot, in spite of the Sahara-like heat of +the great pile. In the very heart of it two gigantic masses of rock had +put their shoulders together, like Gog and Magog, so that under their +ten thousand tons of weight was a crypt-like tunnel as high as a man's +head, into which the light and the glare of the sun never came. + +Peter, now that he had grown accustomed to the deadness of it, liked +this change from Indian Tom's cabin. He liked his wallow of soft sand +during the day, and he liked still more the aloneness and the aloofness +of their ramparted stronghold when the cool of evening came. He did +not, of course, understand just what their escape from Cassidy had +meant, but instinct was shrewdly at work within him, and no wolf could +have guarded the place more carefully than he. And he had all creation +in mind when he guarded the rock-pile. + +All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call +for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart. And on this third afternoon, as +the hot July sun dipped half way to the western forests, both Peter and +his master were looking yearningly, and with the same thought, toward +the east, where over the back-bone of Cragg's Ridge Jed Hawkins' cabin +lay. + +“We'll let her know tonight,” Roger McKay said at last, with something +very slow and deliberate in his voice. “We'll take the chance--and let +her know.” + +Peter's bristling Airedale whiskers, standing out like a bunch of broom +splints about his face, quivered sympathetically, and he thumped his +tail in the sand. He was an artful hypocrite, was Peter, because he +always looked as if he understood, whether he did or not. And Jolly +Roger, staring at the gray rock-backs outside their tunnel door, went +on. + +“We must play square with her, Pied-Bot, and it's a crime worse than +murder not to let her know the truth. If she wasn't a kid, Peter! But +she's that--just a kid--the sweetest, purest thing God A'mighty ever +made, and it isn't fair to live this lie any longer, no matter how we +love her. And we do love her, Peter.” + +Peter lay very quiet, watching the strange gray look that had settled +in Jolly Roger's face. + +“I've got to tell her that I'm a damned highwayman,” he added, in a +moment. “And she won't understand, Peter. She can't. But I'm going to +do it. I'm going to tell her--today. And then--I think we'll be hittin' +north pretty soon, Pied-Bot. If it wasn't for Jed Hawkins--” He rose up +out of the sand, his hands clenched. + +“We ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for her,” + he finished. + +He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path until +he stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into the northern +wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand miles--was +home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay to the Rockies, from the +Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and in it he had lived the thrill +of life according to his own peculiar code. He knew that he had loved +life as few had ever loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon +and the stars. The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in +spite of its ceaseless peril for him. + +But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood in the +blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a little while, +and because of it he had lived a lie. He had not told Jed Hawkins' +foster-girl that he was an outlaw, and that he had come to the edge of +civilization because he thought it was the last place the Royal Mounted +would look for him. When he went to her this evening it would probably +be for the last time. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her +the police were after him from one end of the Canadian northland to the +other. And that same night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for the +Barren Lands, a thousand miles away. He was sure of himself +now--sure--even as the dark wall of the forest across the plain faded +out, and gave place to a pale, girlish face with eyes blue as flowers, +and brown curls filled with the lustre of the sun--a face that had +taken the place of mother, sister and God deep down in his soul. Yes, +he was sure of himself--even with that face rising lo give battle to +his last great test of honor. He was an outlaw, and the police wanted +him, but-- + +Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face. +They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley +McKay led the way out of the rock-pile. + +An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay +between the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light in the +cabin, but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down under the +warning pressure of McKay's hand. + +“I'll go on alone,” he said. “You stay here.” + +It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not hear +the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the glass of +Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to that +signal-tapping, heard nothing from within, except a monotone of voice +that came from the outer room. For half an hour he waited, repeating +the signals at intervals. At last a door opened, and Nada stood +silhouetted against the light of the room beyond. + +McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly behind +the girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was raised a little +from the bottom. + +“Mister--Roger--” she whispered. “Is it--YOU?” + +“Yes,” he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. “It's me.” + +The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the girl +was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up quietly in +the dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of Nada's voice at +the window. There was something in the note of it, and in the caution +of Jolly Roger's reply, that held him stiff and attentive, his ears +wide-open for approaching sound. For several minutes he stood thus, and +then the whispering voices at the window ceased and he heard his master +retreating very quietly through the night. When Jolly Roger spoke to +him, back under the broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that +Peter had stood near the window. + +McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin. + +“Something happened there tonight--something she wouldn't tell me +about,” he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself. “I could +FEEL it. I wish I could have seen her face.” + +He set out over the plain; and then, as if remembering that he must +explain the matter to Peter, he said: + +“She can't get out tonight, Pied-Bot, but she'll come to us in the +jackpines tomorrow afternoon. We'll have to wait.” + +He tried to say the thing cheerfully, but between this night and +tomorrow afternoon seemed an interminable time, now that he was +determined to make a clean breast of his affairs to Nada, and leave the +country. Most of that night he walked in the coolness of the moonlit +plain, and for a long time he sat amid the flower-scented shadows of +the trysting-place in the heart of the jackpine clump, where Nada had a +hidden place all her own. It was here that Peter discovered something +which Jolly Roger could not see in the deep shadows, a bundle warm and +soft and sweet with the presence of Nada herself. It was hidden under a +clump of young banksians, very carefully hidden, and tucked about with +grass and evergreen boughs. When McKay left the jackpines he wondered +why it was that Peter showed no inclination to follow him until he was +urged. + +They did not return to the Stew-Kettle until dawn, and most of that day +Jolly Roger spent in sleep between the two big rocks. It was late +afternoon when they made their last meal. In this farewell hour McKay +climbed up close to the pinnacle, where he smoked his pipe and measured +the shadows of the declining sun until it was time to leave for the +jackpines. + +Retracing his steps to the hiding place under Gog and Magog he looked +for Peter. But Peter's sand-wallow was empty, and Peter was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Peter was on his way to the mystery of the bundle he had found in the +jackpines. + +At the foot of the ridge, where the green plain fought with the +blighting edge of the Stew-Kettle, he stood for many minutes before he +started east-ward. With keen eyes gleaming behind his mop of scraggly +face-bristles he critically surveyed both land and air, and then, with +the slight limp in his gait which would always remain as a mark of Jed +Hawkins' brutality, he trotted deliberately in the direction of the +whiskey-runner's cabin home. + +A bitter memory of Jed Hawkins flattened his ears when he came near the +rock-cluttered coulee in which he had fought for Nada, and had suffered +his broken bones, and today--even as he obeyed the instinctive caution +to stop and listen--Jed Hawkins himself came out of the mouth of the +coulee, bearing a brown jug in one hand and a thick cudgel in the +other. His one wicked eye gleamed in the waning sun. His lean and +scraggly face was alight with a sinister exultation as he paused for a +moment close to the rock behind which Peter was hidden, and Peter's +fangs lay bare and his body trembled while the man stood there. Then he +moved on, and Peter did not stir, but waited until the jug and the +cudgel and the man were out of sight. + +Low under his breath he was snarling when he went on. Hatred, for a +moment, had flamed hot in his soul. Then he turned, and buried himself +in a clump of balsams that reached out into the plain, and a few +moments later came to the edge of a tiny meadow in the heart of them, +where a warbler was bursting its throat in evening-song. + +Around the edge of the meadow Peter circled, his feet deep in +buttercups and red fire-flowers, and crushing softly ripe strawberries +that grew in scarlet profusion in the open, until he came to a screen +of young jackpines, and through these he quietly and apologetically +nosed his way. Then he stood wagging his tail, with Nada sitting on the +grass half a dozen steps from him, wiping the strawberry stain from her +finger-tips. And the stain was on her red lips, and a bit of it against +the flush of her cheek, as she gave a little cry of gladness and +greeting to Peter. Her eyes flashed beyond him, and every drop of blood +in her slim, beautiful little body seemed to be throbbing with an +excitement new to Peter as she looked for Jolly Roger. + +Peter went to her, and dropped down, with his head in her lap, and +looking up through his bushy eye-brows he saw a livid bruise just under +the ripples of her brown hair, where there had been no mark yesterday, +or the day before. Nada's hands drew him closer, until he was half in +her lap, and she bent her face down to him, so that her thick, shining +hair fell all about him. Peter loved her hair, almost as much as Jolly +Roger loved it, and he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath of +content as the smothering sweetness of it shut out the sunlight from +him. + +“Peter,” she whispered, “I'm almost scared to have him come today. I've +promised him. You remember--I promised to tell him if Jed Hawkins +struck me again. And he has! He made that mark, and if Jolly Roger +knows it he'll kill him. I've got to lie--lie--” + +Peter wriggled, to show his interest, and his hard tail thumped the +ground. For a space Nada said nothing more, and he could hear and feel +the beating of her heart close down against him. Then she raised her +head, and looked in the direction from which she would first hear Jolly +Roger as he came through the young jackpines. Peter, with his eyes half +closed in a vast contentment, did not see or sense the change in her +today--that her blue eyes were brighter, her cheeks flushed, and in her +body a strange and subdued throbbing that had never been there before. +Not even to Peter did she whisper her secret, but waited and listened +for Jolly Roger, and when at last she heard him and he came through the +screen of jackpines, the color in her cheeks was like the stain of +strawberries crimsoning her finger-tips. In an instant, looking down +upon her, Jolly Roger saw what Peter had not discovered, and he stopped +in his tracks, his heart thumping like a hammer inside him. Never, even +in his dreams, had the girl looked lovelier than she did now, and never +had her eyes met his eyes as they met them today, and never had her red +lips said as much to him, without uttering a word. In the same instant +he saw the livid bruise, half hidden under her hair--and then he saw a +big bundle behind her, partly screened by a dwarfed banksian. After +that his eyes went back to the bruise. + +“Jed Hawkins didn't do it,” said Nada, knowing what was in his mind. +“It was Jed's woman. And you can't kill her!” she added a little +defiantly. + +Jolly Roger caught the choking throb in her throat, and he knew she was +lying. But Nada thrust Peter from her lap, and stood up, and she seemed +taller and more like a woman than ever before in her life as she faced +Jolly Roger there in the tiny open, with violets and buttercups and red +strawberries in the soft grass under their feet. And behind them, and +very near, a rival to the warbler in the meadow began singing. But Nada +did not hear. The color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but +now it was fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in +front of her. But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the +sky as she looked at Jolly Roger. + +“I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger,” she said. + +A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead, +revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and Nada saw +gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter which always +frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and when she reached +out and touched his arm the flesh of it was as hard as white birch. +Even in her fear there was glory in the thought that at a word from her +he would kill the man who had struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, +timidly, and the blue in her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading +tremble in the curve of her lips as she looked straight at him. + +“I'm not going back,” she repeated. + +Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the bundle. +His eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed to swell in +his chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense muscles relax. He +tried to smile. He struggled to bring up the courage which would make +possible the confession he had to make. And Peter, sitting on his +haunches in a patch of violets, watched them both, wondering what was +going to happen between these two. + +“Where are you going?” Jolly Roger asked. + +Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were twisting at +his flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth part of a second did +she drop her eyes, and that strange, wonderful something which he saw +looking at him so clearly out of her soul brought the truth to Jolly +Roger, before she had spoken. + +“I'm goin' with you and Peter.” + +The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he stepped +back from her. He looked away from her--at Peter. But her pale face, +her parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her radiant hair +stirred by the wind--came between them. She was no longer the little +girl--“past seventeen, goin' on eighteen.” To Jolly Roger she was all +that the world held of glorious womanhood. + +“But--you can't!” he cried desperately. “I've come to tell you things, +Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been livin' a +lie--” + +[Illustration: “I've come to tell you things, Nada. I've been living +a lie.”] + +He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth. + +“You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is bad. +But the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've wanted me for +years. That's why I came down here, and hid over in Indian Tom's +cabin--near where I first met you. I thought they wouldn't find me away +down here, but they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big +rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. I'm--an outlaw. I've done a lot of +bad things--in the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet +in me, or in jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life to +be able to tell you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be +square.” + +He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as he +went on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. Her lips +seemed redder, and what he was saying did not seem to startle her, or +frighten her. + +“Don't you understand, Nada?” he cried. “I'm bad. The police want me. +I'm a fugitive--always running away, always hiding--an outlaw--” + +She nodded. + +“I know it, Mister Roger,” she said quietly. “I heard you tell Peter +that a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place the day after +you and Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and I showed him the +way to Father John's, and he told me a lot about you, and he told +Father John a lot more, and it made me awful proud of you, Mister +Roger--and I want to go with you and Peter!” + +“Proud!” gasped Jolly Roger. “Proud, of ME--” + +She nodded again. + +“Mister Cassidy--the policeman--he used just the word you used a minute +ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other people. He said +he had to get you in jail if he could, but he hoped he never would. He +said he'd like to have a man like you for a brother. And Peter loves +you. And I--” + +The color came into her white face. + +“I'm goin' with you and Peter,” she finished. + +Something came to relieve the tenseness of the moment for Jolly Roger. +Peter, nosing in a thick patch of bunch-grass, put out a huge snowshoe +rabbit, and the two crashed in a startling avalanche through the young +jackpines, Peter's still puppyish voice yelling in a high staccato as +he pursued. Jolly Roger turned from Nada, and stared where they had +gone. But he was seeing nothing. He knew the hour of his mightiest +fight had come. In the reckless years of his adventuring he had more +than once faced death. He had starved. He had frozen. He had run the +deadliest gantlets of the elements, of beast, and of man. Yet was the +strife in him now the greatest of all his life. His heart thumped. His +brain was swirling in a vague and chaotic struggle for the mastery of +things, and as he fought with himself--his unseeing eyes fixed on the +spot where Peter and the snowshoe rabbit had disappeared--he heard +Nada's voice behind him, saying again that she was going with him and +Peter. In those seconds he felt himself giving way, and the determined +action he had built up for himself began to crumble like sand. He had +made his confession and in spite of it this young girl he +worshipped--sweeter and purer than the flowers of the forest--was +urging herself upon him! And his soul cried out for him to turn about, +and open his arms to her, and gather her into them for as long as God +saw fit to give him freedom and life. + +But still he fought against that mighty urge, dragging reason and right +back fragment by fragment, while Nada stood behind him, her wide-open, +childishly beautiful eyes beginning to comprehend the struggle that was +disrupting the heart of this man who was an outlaw--and her god among +men. And when Jolly Roger turned, his face had aged to the grayness of +stone, and his eyes were dull, and there was a terribly dead note in +his voice. + +“You can't go with us,” he said. “You can't. It's wrong--all wrong. I +couldn't take care of you in jail, and some day--that's where I'll be.” + +More than once when she had spoken of Jed Hawkins he had seen the swift +flash of lightning come into the violet of her eyes. And it came now, +and her little hands grew tight at her sides, and bright spots burned +in her cheeks. + +“You won't!” she cried. “I won't let you go to jail. I'll fight for +you--if you'll let me go with you and Peter!” + +She came a step nearer. + +“And if I stay here Jed Hawkins is goin' to sell me to a tie-cutter +over on the railroad. That's what it is--sellin' me. I ain't--I mean I +haven't--told you before, because I was afraid of what you'd do. But +it's goin' to happen, unless you let me go with you and Peter. Oh, +Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger--” + +Her fingers crept up his arms. They reached his shoulders, and her blue +eyes, and her red lips, and the woman's soul in her girl-body were so +close to him he could feel their sweetness and thrill, and then he saw +a slow-gathering mist, and tears-- + +“I'll go wherever you go,” she was whispering, “And we'll hide where +they won't ever find us, and I'll be happy, so happy, Mister Roger--and +if you won't take me I want to die. Oh--” + +She was crying, with her head on his breast, and her slim, half bare +arms around his neck, and Jolly Roger listened like a miser to the +choking words that came with her sobs. And where there had been tumult +and indecision in his heart there came suddenly the clearness of +sunshine and joy, and with it the happiness of a new and mighty +possession as his arms closed about her, and he turned her face up, so +that for the first time he kissed the soft red lips that for some +inscrutable reason the God of all things had given into his keeping +this day. + +And then, holding her close, with her arms still tighter about his +neck, he cried softly, + +“I'm goin' to take you, little girl. You're goin' with Peter and me, +for ever--and ever. And we'll go--tonight!” + +When Peter came back, just in the last sunset glow of the evening, he +found his master alone in the bit of jackpine opening, and Nada was +swiftly crossing the larger meadow that lay between them and the break +in Cragg's Ridge, beyond which was Jed Hawkins' cabin. It was not the +same Jolly Roger whom he had left half an hour before. It was not the +man of the hiding-place in the rock-pile. Jolly Roger McKay, standing +there in the last soft glow of the day, was no longer the fugitive and +the outcast. He stood with silent lips, yet his soul was crying out its +gratitude to all that God of Life which breathed its sweetness of +summer evening about him. He was the First Possessor of the earth. In +that hour, that moment, he would not have sold his place for all the +happiness of all the remaining people in the world. He cried out aloud, +and Peter, squatted at his feet with his red tongue lolling out, +listened to him. + +“She is mine, mine, mine,” he was saying, and he repeated that word +over and over, until Peter quirked his ears, and wondered what it +meant. And then, seeing Peter, Jolly Roger laughed softly, and bent +over him, with a look of awe and wonderment mingling with the happiness +in his face. + +“She's mine--ours,” he cried boyishly. “God A'mighty took a hand, +Pied-Bot, and she's going with us! We're going tonight, when the moon +comes up. And Peter--Peter--we're going straight to the Missioner's, +and he'll marry us, and then we'll hit for a place where no one in the +world will ever find us. The law may want us, Pied-Bot, but God--this +God all around--is good to us. And we'll try and pay Him back. We will, +Peter!” + +He straightened himself, and faced the west. Then he picked up the +bundle Nada had brought, and dived through the jackpines, with Peter at +his heels. Swiftly they moved through the shadowing dusk of the plain, +and came at last to the Stew-Kettle, and to their hiding-place under +the shoulders of Gog and Magog. There was still a faint twilight in the +tunnel, and in this twilight Jolly Roger McKay packed his possessions; +and then, with fingers that trembled as if they were committing a +sacrilege, he drew Nada's few treasures from her bundle and placed them +tenderly with his own. And all the time Peter heard him saying things +under his breath, so softly that it was like the whispered drone of +song. + +In darkness they went down through the rocks to the plain, and half an +hour later they came to the break in the Ridge, and went through it, +and stopped in the black shadow of a great rock, with Jed Hawkins' +cabin half a rifle-shot away. Here Nada was to come to them with the +first rising of the moon. + +It was very still all about, and Peter sensed a significance in the +silence, and lay very quietly watching the light in the cabin, and the +shadowy form of his master. Also he knew that somewhere in the distance +a storm was gathering. The breath of it was in the air, though the sky +was clear of cloud overhead, except for the haze of a gray and ghostly +mist that lay between them and the yellow stars. Jolly Roger counted +the seconds between then and moonrise. It seemed hours before the +golden rim of it rose in the east. Shadows grew swiftly after that. +Grotesque things took shape. The rock-caps of the ridge began to light +up, like timid signal-fires. Black spruce and balsam and cedar +glistened as if bathed in enamel. And the moon came on, and mellow +floods of light played in the valleys and plains, and danced over the +forest-tops, and in voice-less and soundless miracle called upon all +living things to look upon the glory of God. In his soul Jolly Roger +McKay felt the urge and the call of that voiceless Master Power, and +through his lips came an unconscious whisper of prayer--of gratitude. + +And he watched the light in Jed Hawkins' cabin, and strained his ears +to hear a sound of footsteps coming through the moonlight. + +But there was no change. The light did not move. A door did not open or +close. There was no sound, except the growing whisper of the wind, the +call of a night bird, and the howl of the old gray wolf that always +cried out to the moon from the tangled depths of Indian Tom's swamp. + +A thrill of nervousness swept through Jolly Roger. He waited half an +hour, three-quarters, an hour--after the moon had risen. And Nada did +not come. The nervousness grew in him, and he moved out into the +moon-glow, and slowly and watchfully followed the edge of the +rock-shadows until he came to the fringe of cedars and spruce behind +the cabin. Peter, careful not to snap a twig under his paws, followed +closely. They came to the cabin, and there--very distinctly--Jolly +Roger McKay heard the low moaning of a voice. + +He edged his way to the window, and looked in. + +Crouched beside a chair in the middle of the floor was Jed Hawkins's +woman. She was moaning, and her thin body was rocking back and forth, +and with her hands clasped at her bony breast she was staring at the +open door. With a shock Jolly Roger saw that except for the strangely +crying old woman the cabin was empty. Sudden fear chilled his blood--a +fear that scarcely took form before he was at the door, and in the +cabin. The woman's eyes were red and wild as she stared at him, and she +stopped her moaning, and her hands unclasped. Jolly Roger went nearer +and bent over her and shivered at the half-mad terror he saw in her +face. + +“Where is Nada?” he demanded. “Tell me--where is she?” + +“Gone, gone, gone,” crooned the woman, clutching her hands at her +breast again. “Jed has taken her--taken her to Mooney's shack, over +near the railroad. Oh, my God!--I tried to keep her, but I couldn't. He +dragged her away, and tonight he's sellin' her to Mooney--the +devil--the black brute--the tie-cutter--” + +She choked, and began rocking herself back and forth, and the moaning +came again from her thin lips. Fiercely McKay gripped her by the +shoulder. + +“Mooney's shack--where?” he cried. “Quick! Tell me!” + +“A thousand--a thousand--he's givin' a thousand dollars to git her in +the shack--alone,” she cried in a dull, sing-song voice. “The road out +there leads straight to it. Near the railroad. A mile. Two miles. I +tried to keep him from doin' it, but I couldn't--I couldn't--” + +Jolly Roger heard no more. He was out of the door, and running across +the open, with Peter racing close behind him. They struck the road, and +Jolly Roger swung into it, and continued to run until the breath was +out of his lungs. And all that time the things Nada had told him about +Jed Hawkins and the tie-cutter were rushing madly through his brain. An +hour or two ago, when the words had come from her lips in the jackpine +thicket, he had believed that Nada was frightened, that a distorted +fear possessed her, that such a thing as she had half confessed to him +was too monstrous to happen. And now he cried out aloud, a groaning, +terrible cry as he went on. Hawkins and Nada had reached Mooney's shack +long before this, a shack buried deep in the wilderness, a shack from +which no cries could be heard-- + +Peter, trotting behind, whined at what he heard in Jolly Roger McKay's +panting voice. And the moon shone on them as they staggered and ran, +and here and there dark clouds were racing past the face of it, and the +slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in the air. And then came the +time when one of the dark clouds rode under the moon and the two ran on +in darkness. The cloud passed, and the moon flooded the road again with +light--and suddenly Jolly Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart +almost broke in the strain of that moment. + +Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was Nada. +Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid light of the +moon. Her hair was tangled and twisted about her shoulders and over her +breast. One arm was bare where the sleeve had been torn away, and her +girlish breast gleamed white where her waist had been stripped half +from her body. And then she saw Jolly Roger in the trail, with +wide-open, reaching arms, and with a cry such as Peter had never heard +come from her lips before she ran into them, and held up her face to +him in the yellow moon-light. In her eyes--great, tearless, burning +pools--he saw the tragedy and yet it was only that, and not horror, not +despair, NOT the other thing. His arms closed crushingly about her. Her +slim body seemed to become a part of him. Her hot lips reached up and +clung to his. + +And then, + +“Did--he get you--to--Mooney's shack--” He felt her body stiffen +against him. + +“No,” she panted. “I fought--every inch. He dragged me, and hit me, and +tore my clothes--but I fought. And up there--in the trail--he turned +his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and I hit him with a +club. And he's there, now, on his back--” + +She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's length. +A cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was low, and +terrible. + +“Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can,” he said, fighting to +speak coolly. “Take Peter--and go. You will make it before the storm +breaks. I am going back to have a few words with Jed Hawkins--alone. +Then I will join you, and the Missioner will marry us--” + +The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear had +disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of the night. +Her red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure of their purity +and love, and for a moment he held her close in his arms again, kissing +her as he might have kissed an angel, while her little hands stroked +his face, and she laughed softly and strangely in her happiness--the +wonder of a woman's soul rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her +girlhood. + +And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to go. + +“Hurry, little girl,” he said. “Hurry--before the storm breaks!” + +She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the trail, +not once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he would this +night wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation. Never before had he +felt the desire to kill. But he felt that desire now. Before the night +was much older he would do unto Hawkins and Mooney as Hawkins had done +unto Peter. He would leave them alive, but broken and crippled and +forever punished. + +And then he stumbled over something in another darkening of the moon. +He stopped, and the light came again, and he looked down into the +upturned face of Jed Hawkins. It was a distorted and twisted face, and +its one eye was closed. The body did not move. And close to the head +was the club which Nada had used. + +Jolly Roger laughed grimly. Fate was kind to him in making a half of +his work so easy. But he wanted Hawkins to rouse himself first. Roughly +he stirred him with the toe of his boot. + +“Wake up, you fiend,” he said. “I'm going to break your bones, your +arms, your legs, just as you broke Peter--and that poor old woman back +in the cabin. Wake up!” + +Jed Hawkins made no stir. He was strangely limp. For many seconds Jolly +Roger stood looking down at him, his eyes growing wider, more staring. +Darkness came again. It was an inky blackness this time, like a blotter +over the world. Low thunder came out of the west. The tree-tops +whispered in a frightened sort of way. And Jolly Roger could hear his +heart beating. He dropped upon his knees, and his hands moved over Jed +Hawkins. For a space not even Peter could have heard his movement or +his breath. + +In the ebon darkness he rose to his feet, and the night--lifelessly +still for a moment--heard the one choking word that came from his lips. + +“Dead!” + +And there he stood, the heat of his rage changing to an icy chill, his +heart dragging within him like a chunk of lead, his breath choking in +his throat. Jed Hawkins was dead! He was growing stiff there in the +black trail. He had ceased to breathe. He had ceased to be a part of +life. And the wind, rising a little with the coming of storm, seemed to +whisper and chortle over the horrible thing, and the lone wolf in +Indian Tom's swamp howled weirdly, as if he smelled death. + +Jolly Roger McKay's finger-nails dug into the flesh of his palms. If he +had killed the human viper at his feet, if his own hands had meted out +his punishment, he would not have felt the clammy terror that wrapped +itself about him in the darkness. But he had come too late. It was Nada +who had killed Jed Hawkins. Nada, with her woman's soul just born in +all its glory, had taken the life of her foster-father. And Canadian +law knew no excuse for killing. + +The chill crept to his finger-tips, and unconsciously, in a childish +sort of way, he sobbed between his clenched teeth. The thunder was +rolling nearer, and it was like a threatening voice, a deep-toned +booming of a thing inevitable and terrible. He felt the air shivering +about him, and suddenly something moved softly against his foot, and he +heard a questioning whine. It was Peter--come back to him in this hour +when he needed a living thing to give him courage. With a groan he +dropped on his knees again, and clutched his hands about Peter. + +“My God,” he breathed huskily. “Peter, she's killed him. And she +mustn't know. We mustn't let anyone know--” + +And there he stopped, and Peter felt him growing rigid as stone, and +for many moments Jolly Roger's body seemed as lifeless as that of the +man who lay with up-turned face in the trail. Then he fumbled in a +pocket and found a pencil and an old envelope. And on the envelope, +with the darkness so thick he could not see his hand, he scribbled, “I +killed Jed Hawkins,” and after that he signed his name firmly and +fully--“Jolly Roger McKay.” + +Then he tucked the envelope under Jed Hawkins' body, where the rain +could not get at it. And after that, to make the evidence complete, he +covered the dead man's face with his coat. + +“We've got to do it, Peter,” he said, and there was a new note in his +voice as he stood up on his feet again. “We've got to do it--for her. +We'll--tell her we caught Jed Hawkins in the trail and killed him.” + +Caution, cleverness, his old mental skill returned to him. He dragged +the boot-legger's body to a new spot, turned it face down, threw the +club away, and kicked up the earth with his boots to give signs of a +struggle. + +The note in his voice was triumph--triumph in spite of its +heartbreak--as he turned back over the trail after he had finished, and +spoke to Peter. + +“We may have done some things we oughtn't to, Pied-Bot,” he said, “but +tonight I sort o' think we've tried to make--restitution. And if they +hang us, which they probably will some time, I sort o' think it'll make +us happy to know we've done it--for her. Eh, Pied-Bot?” + +And the moon sailed out for a space, and shone on the dead whiteness of +Jolly Roger's face. And on the lips of that face was a strange, cold +smile, a smile of mastery, of exaltation, and the eyes were looking +straight ahead--the eyes of a man who had made his sacrifice for a +thing more precious to him than his God. + +Only now and then did the moon gleam through the slow-moving masses of +black cloud when he came to the edge of the Indian settlement clearing +three miles away, where stood the cabin of the Missioner. The storm had +not broken, but seemed holding back its forces for one mighty onslaught +upon the world. The thunder was repressed, and the lightning held in +leash, with escaping flashes of it occasionally betraying the impending +ambuscades of the sky. + +The clearing itself was a blot of stygian darkness, with a yellow patch +of light in the center of it--the window of the Missioner's cabin. And +Jolly Roger stood looking at it for a space, as a carven thing of rock +might have stared. His heart was dead. His soul crushed. His dream +broken. There remained only his brain, his mind made up, his worship +for the girl--a love that had changed from a thing of joy to a fire of +agony within him. Straight ahead he looked, knowing there was only one +thing for him to do. And only one. There was no alternative. No hope. +No change of fortune that even the power of God might bring about. What +lay ahead of him was inevitable. + +After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of +dying for one's country--or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay +felt that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at +the door, and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired +Missioner in the lampglow. + +Swift as one of the flashes of lightning in the sky the anxiety and +fear had gone out of Nada's face, and in an instant it was flooded with +the joy of his coming. She did not mark the strange change in him, but +went to him as she had gone to him in the trail, and Jolly Roger's arms +closed about her, but gently this time, and very tenderly, as he might +have held a little child he was afraid of hurting. Then she felt the +chill of his lips as she pressed her own to them. Startled, she looked +up into his eyes. And as he had done in the trail, so now Jolly Roger +stood her away from him, and faced the Missioner. In a cold, hard voice +he told what had happened to Nada that evening, and of the barbarous +effort Jed Hawkins had made to sell her to Mooney. Then, from a pocket +inside his shirt, he drew out a small, flat leather wallet, and thrust +it in the little Missioner's hand. + +“There's close to a thousand dollars in that,” he said. “It's mine. And +I'm giving it to you--for Nada. I want you to keep her, and care for +her, and mebby some day--” + +With both her hands Nada clutched his arm. Her eyes had widened. Swift +pallor had driven the color from her face, and a broken cry was in her +voice. + +“I'm goin' with you,” she protested. “I'm goin' with you--and Peter!” + +“You can't--now,” he said. “I've got to go alone, Nada. I went +back--and I killed Jed Hawkins.” + +Over the roof of the cabin rolled a crash of thunder. As the explosion +of it rocked the floor under their feet, Jolly Roger pointed to a door, +and said, + +“Father, if you will leave us alone--just a minute--” + +White-faced, clutching the wallet, the little gray Missioner nodded, +and went to the door, and as he opened it and entered into the darkness +of the other room he saw Jolly Roger McKay open wide his arms, and the +girl go into them. After that the storm broke. The rain descended in a +deluge upon the cabin roof. The black night was filled with the rumble +and roar and the hissing lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly +freed of bondage. And in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a +little gray man of tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer +and of faith in God--his heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he +waited. The minutes passed. Five. Ten. And then there came a louder +roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew +that a door was opened--and closed. + +He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled at +the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the +lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair--lay Nada, and close +beside her was Peter. He went to her. Tenderly he knelt down beside +her. His thin arm went about her, and as the storm raved and shrieked +above them he tried to comfort her--and spoke of God. + +And through that storm, his head bowed, his heart gone, went Jolly +Roger McKay--heading north. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter, thrust back from the door through which through which his master +had gone, listened vainly for the sound of returning footsteps in the +beat of rain and the crash of thunder outside. A strange thing had +burned itself into his soul, a thing that made his flesh quiver and set +hot fires running in his blood. As a dog sometimes senses the stealthy +approach of death, so he began to sense the tragedy of this night that +had brought with it not only a chaos of blackness and storm, but an +anguish which roused an answering whimper in his throat as he turned +toward Nada. + +She was crumpled with her head in her arms, where she had flung herself +with Jolly Roger's last kiss of worship on her lips, and she was +sobbing like a child with its heart broken. And beside her knelt the +old gray Missioner, man of God in the deep forest, who stroked her hair +with his thin hand, whispering courage and consolation to her, with the +wind and rain beating overhead and the windows rattling to the +accompaniment of ghostly voices that shrieked and wailed in the +tree-tops outside. + +Peter trembled at the sobbing, but his heart and his desire were with +the man who had gone. In his unreasoning little soul it was Jed Hawkins +who was rattling the windows with his unseen hands and who was pounding +at the door with the wind, and who was filling the black night with its +menace and fear. He hated this man, who lay back in the trail with his +lifeless face turned up to the deluge that poured out of the sky. And +he was afraid of the man, even as he hated him, and he believed that +Nada was afraid of him, and that because of her fear she was crying +there in the middle of the floor, with Father John patting her shoulder +and stroking her hair, and saying things to her which he could not +understand. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to feel himself close +against her, as Nada had held him so often in those hours when she had +unburdened her grief and her unhappiness to him. But even stronger than +this desire was the one to follow his master. + +He went to the door, and thrust his nose against the crack at the +bottom of it. He felt the fierceness of the wind fighting to break in, +and the broken mist of it filled his nostrils. But there came no scent +of Jolly Roger McKay. For a moment he struggled at the crack with his +paws. Then he flopped himself down, his heart beating fast, and fixed +his eyes inquiringly on Nada and the Missioner. + +His four and a half months of life in the big wilderness, and his weeks +of constant comradeship with Jolly Roger, had developed in him a brain +that was older than his body. No process of reasoning could impinge +upon him the fact that his master was an outlaw, but with the swift +experiences of tragedy and hiding and never-ceasing caution had come +instinctive processes which told him almost as much as reason. He knew +something was wrong tonight. It was in the air. He breathed it. It +thrilled in the crash of thunder, in the lightning fire, in the mighty +hands of the wind rocking the cabin and straining at the windows. And +vaguely the knowledge gripped him that the dead man back in the trail +was responsible for it all, and that because of this something that had +happened his mistress was crying and his master was gone. And he +believed he should also have gone with Jolly Roger into the blackness +and mystery of the storm, to fight with him against the one creature in +all the world he hated--the dead man who lay back in the thickness of +gloom between the forest walls. + +And the Missioner was saying to Nada, in a quiet, calm voice out of +which the tragedies of years had burned all excitement and passion: + +“God will forgive him, my child. In His mercy He will forgive Roger +McKay, because he killed Jed Hawkins to save YOU. But man will not +forgive. The law has been hunting him because he is an outlaw, and to +outlawry he has added what the law will call murder. But God will not +look at it in that way. He will look into the heart of the man, the man +who sacrificed himself--” + +And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting hand, and +Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the lampglow. + +“I don't care what God thinks,” she cried passionately. “God didn't do +right today. Mister Roger told me everything, that he was an outlaw, +an' I oughtn't to marry him. But I didn't care. I loved him. I could +hide with him. An' we were coming to have you marry us tonight when God +let Jed Hawkins drag me away, to sell me to a man over on the +railroad--an' it was God who let Mister Roger go back and kill him. I +tell you He didn't do right! He didn't--he didn't--because Mister Roger +brought me the first happiness I ever knew, an' I loved him, an' he +loved me--an' God was wicked to let him kill Jed Hawkins--” + +Her voice cried out, a woman's soul broken in a girl's body, and Peter +whimpered and watched the Missioner as he raised Nada to her feet and +went with her into his bedroom, where a few minutes before he had +lighted a lamp. And Peter crept in quietly after them, and when the +Missioner had gone and closed the door, leaving them alone in their +tragedy, Nada seemed to see him for the first time and slowly she +reached out her arms. + +“Peter!” she whispered. “Peter--Peter--” + +In the minutes that followed, Peter could feel her heart beating. +Clutched against her breast he looked up at the white, beautiful face, +the trembling throat, the wide-open blue eyes staring at the one black +window between them and the outside night. A lull had come in the +storm. It was quiet and ominous stillness, and the ticking of a clock, +old and gray like the Missioner himself, filled the room. And Nada, +seated on the edge of Father John's bed, no longer looked like the +young girl of “seventeen goin' on eighteen.” That afternoon, in the +hidden jackpine open, with its sweet-scented jasmines, its violets and +its crimson strawberries under their feet, the soul of a woman had +taken possession of her body. In that hour the first happiness of her +life had come to her. She had heard Jolly Roger McKay tell her those +things which she already knew--that he was an outlaw, and that he was +hiding down on the near-edge of civilization because the Royal Mounted +were after him farther north--and that he was not fit to love her, and +that it was a crime to let her love him. It was then the soul of the +woman had come to her in all its triumph. She had made her choice, +definitely and decisively, without hesitation and without fear. And +now, as she stared unseeingly at the window against which the rain was +beating, the woman in her girlish body rose in her mightier than in the +hour of her happiness, fighting to find a way--crying out for the man +she loved. + +Her mind swept back in a single flash through all the years she had +lived, through her years of unhappiness and torment as the foster-girl +of Jed Hawkins and his broken, beaten wife; through summers and winters +that had seemed ages to her, eternities of desolation, of heartache, of +loneliness, with the big wilderness her one friend on earth. As the +window rattled in a fresh blast of storm, she thought of the day months +ago when she had accidentally stumbled upon the hiding-place of Roger +McKay. Since that day he had been her God, and she had lived in a +paradise. He had been father, mother, brother, and at last--what she +most yearned for--a lover to her. And this day, when for the first time +he had held her in his arms, when the happiness of all the earth had +reached out to them, God had put it into Jed Hawkins' heart to destroy +her--and Jolly Roger had killed him! + +With a sharp little cry she sprang to her feet, so suddenly that Peter +fell with a thump to the floor. He looked up at her, puzzled, his jaws +half agape. She was breathing quickly. Her slender body was quivering. +Suddenly Peter saw the fire in her eyes and the flame that was rushing +into her white cheeks. Then she turned to him, and panted in a wild +little whisper, so low that the Missioner could not hear: + +“Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill Jed +Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be killed. +Peter--Peter--we don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' with him. +We're goin'--goin'--” + +She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she strained at +it with all her strength, and he could hear her sobbing: + +“We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'--if we die for it!” + +An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A gust of +wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada saw a knife +in an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped for it, and +clutched it in her hand as she climbed through the window and dropped +to the soggy ground beneath. In a single leap Peter followed her. +Blackness swallowed them as they turned toward the trail leading +north--the only trail which Jolly Roger could travel on a night like +this. They heard the voice of the Missioner calling from the window +behind them. Then a crash of thunder set the earth rolling under their +feet, and the lull in the storm came to an end. The sky split open with +the vivid fire of lightning. The trees wailed and whined, the rain fell +again in a smothering deluge, and through it Nada ran, gripping the +knife as her one defense against the demons of darkness--and always +close at her side ran Peter. + +He could not see her in that pitchy blackness, except when the +lightning flashes came. Then she was like a ghostly wraith, with +drenched clothes clinging to her until she seemed scarcely dressed, her +wet hair streaming and her wide, staring eyes looking straight ahead. +After the lightning flashes, when the world was darkest, he could hear +the stumbling tread of her feet and the panting of her breath, and now +and then the swish of brush as it struck across her face and breast. +The rain had washed away the scent of his master's feet but he knew +they were following Jolly Roger, and that the girl was running to +overtake him. In him was the desire to rush ahead, to travel faster +through the night, but Nada's stumbling feet and her panting breath and +the strange white pictures he saw of her when the sky split open with +fire held him back. Something told him that Nada must reach Jolly +Roger. And he was afraid she would stop. He wanted to bark to give her +encouragement, as he had often barked in their playful races in the +green plain-lands on the farther side of Cragg's Ridge. But the rain +choked him. It beat down upon him with the weight of heavy hands, it +slushed up into his face from pools in the trail and drove the breath +from him when he attempted to open his jaws. So he ran close--so close +that at times Nada felt the touch of his body against her. + +In these first minutes of her fight to overtake the man she loved Nada +heard but one voice--a voice crying out from her heart and brain and +soul, a voice rising above the tumult of thunder and wind, urging her +on, whipping the strength from her frail body in pitiless exhortation. +Jolly Roger was less than half an hour ahead of her. And she must +overtake him--quickly--before the forests swallowed him, before he was +gone from her life forever. + +The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. When +the brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and stumbled +on. Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay across her path, +and dragged her bruised body through their twisted tops, moaning to +Peter and clutching tightly to the sheathed knife in her hand. And the +wild spirits that possessed the night seemed to gather about her, and +over her, exulting in the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in +weird and savage joy at the discovery of this human plaything +struggling against their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he +heard it now. It rocked the earth under his feet. It filled the world +with a ceaseless rumble, and the lightning came like flashes from +swift-loading guns, and with it all a terrific assault of wind and rain +that at last drove Nada down in a crumpled heap, panting for breath, +with hands groping out wildly for him. + +Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found the +palm of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to her, while +she bowed her head until her drenched curls became a part of the mud +and water of the trail. Peter could hear her sobbing for breath. And +then suddenly, there came a change. The thunder was sweeping eastward. +The lightning was going with it. The wind died out in wailing sobs +among the treetops, and the rain fell straight down. Swiftly as its +fury had come, the July storm was passing. And Nada staggered to her +feet again and went on. + +Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging +itself out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. She +began to reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith and +confidence gave her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger would take +this trail, for it was the one trail leading from the Missioner's cabin +through the thick forest country north. And in half an hour he would +not travel far. The thrilling thought came to her that possibly he had +sought shelter in the lee of a big tree trunk during the fury of the +storm. If he had done that he would be near, very near. She paused in +the trail and gathered her breath, and cried out his name. Three times +she called it, and only the low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. +Twice again during the next ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she +could into the darkness. And still no answer came back to her through +the gloom ahead. + +The trail had dipped, and she felt the deepening slush of swamp-mire +under her feet. She sank in it to her shoe-tops, and stumbled into +pools knee-deep, and Peter wallowed in it to his belly. A quarter of an +hour they fought through it to the rising ground beyond. And by that +time the last of the black storm clouds had passed overhead. The rain +had ceased. The rumble of thunder came more faintly. There was no +lightning, and the tree-tops began to whisper softly, as if rejoicing +in the passing of the wind. About them--everywhere--they could hear the +run and drip of water, the weeping of the drenched trees, the gurgle of +flooded pools, and the trickle of tiny rivulets that splashed about +their feet. Through a rift in the breaking clouds overhead came a +passing flash of the moon. + +“We'll find him now, Peter,” moaned the girl. “We'll find him--now. He +can't be very far ahead--” + +And Peter waited, holding his breath, listening for an answer to the +cry that went out for Jolly Roger McKay. + +The glory of July midnight, with a round, full moon straight overhead, +followed the stress of storm. The world had been lashed and inundated, +every tree whipped of its rot and slag, every blade of grass and flower +washed clean. Out of the earth rose sweet smells of growing life, the +musky fragrance of deep moss and needle-mold, and through the clean air +drifted faintly the aroma of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of +unending canopies and glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into +the night. The deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an +invisible and mysterious life--life that was still, yet wide-awake, +breathing, watchful, drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air +which had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar of +wind and rain. And the moon, like a queen who had so ordered these +things, looked down in a mighty triumph. Her radiance, without dust or +fog or forest-smoke to impede its way, was like the mellow glow of +half-day. It streamed through the treetops in paths of gold and silver, +throwing dark shadows where it failed to penetrate, and gathering in +wide pools where its floods poured through broad rifts in the roofs of +the forest. And the trail, leading north, was like a river of +shimmering silver, splitting the wilderness from earth to sky. + +In this trail, clearly made in the wet soil, were Jolly Roger's +foot-prints, and in a wider space, where at some time a trapper had +cleared himself a spot for his tepee or shack, Jolly Roger had paused +to rest after his fight through the storm--and had then continued on +his way. And into this clearing, three hours after they left the +Missioner's cabin, came Nada and Peter. + +They came slowly, the girl a slim wraith in the moon-light; in the open +they stood for a moment, and Peter's heart weighed heavily within him +as his mistress cried out once more for Jolly Roger. Her voice rose +only in a sob, and ended in a sob. The last of her strength was gone. +Her little figure swayed, and her face was white and haggard, and in +her drawn lips and staring eyes was the agony of despair. She had lost, +and she knew that she had lost as she crumpled down in the trail, +crying out sobbingly to the footprints which led so clearly ahead of +her. + +“Peter, I can't go on,” she moaned. “I can't--go on--” + +Her hands clutched at her breast. Peter saw the glint of the moonlight +on the ivory sheath of the Eskimo knife, and he saw her white face +turned up to the sky--and also that her lips were moving, but he did +not hear his name come from them, or any other sound. He whined, and +foot by foot began to nose along the trail on the scent left by Jolly +Roger. It was very clear to his nostrils, and it thrilled him. He +looked back, and again he whined his encouragement to the girl. + +“Peter!” she called. “Peter!” + +He returned to her. She had drawn the knife out of its scabbard, and +the cold steel glistened in her hand. Her eyes were shining, and she +reached out and clutched Peter close up against her, so that he could +hear the choke and throb of her heart. + +“Oh, Peter, Peter,” she panted. “If you could only talk! If you could +run and catch Mister Roger, an' tell him I'm here, an' that he must +come back--” + +She hugged him closer. He sensed the sudden thrill that leapt through +her body. + +“Peter,” she whispered, “will you do it?” + +For a few moments she did not seem to breathe. Then he heard a quick +little cry, a sob of inspiration and hope, and her arms came from about +him, and he saw the knife flashing in the yellow moonlight. + +He did not understand, but he knew that he must watch her carefully. +She had bent her head, and her hair, nearly dry, glowed softly in the +face of the moon. Her hands were fumbling in the disheveled curls, and +Peter saw the knife flash back and forth, and heard the cut of it, and +then he saw that in her hand she held a thick brown tress of hair that +she had severed from her head. He was puzzled. And Nada dropped the +knife, and his curiosity increased when she tore a great piece out of +her tattered dress, and carefully wrapped the tress of hair in it. Then +she drew him to her again, and tied the knotted fold of dress securely +about his neck; after that she tore other strips from her dress, and +wound them about his neck until he felt muffled and half smothered. + +And all the time she was talking to him in a half sobbing, excited +little voice, and the blood in Peter's body ran swifter, and the +strange thrill in him was greater. When she had finished she rose to +her feet, and stood there swaying back and forth, like one of the +spruce-top shadows, while she pointed up the moonlit trail. + +“Go, Peter!” she cried softly. “Quick! Follow him, Peter--catch +him--bring him back! Mister Roger--Jolly Roger--go, Peter! Go--go--go--” + +It was strange to Peter. But he was beginning to understand. He sniffed +in Jolly Roger's footprints, and then he looked up quickly, and saw +that it had pleased the girl. She was urging him on. He sniffed from +one footprint to another, and Nada clapped her hands and cried out that +he was right--for him to hurry--hurry-- + +Impulse, thought, swiftly growing knowledge of something to be done +thrilled in his brain. Nada wanted him to go. She wanted him to go to +Jolly Roger. And she had put something around his neck which she wanted +him to take with him. He whined eagerly, a bit excitedly. Then he began +to trot. Instinctively it was his test. She did not call him back. He +flattened his ears, listening for her command to return, but it did not +come. And then the thrill in him leapt over all other things. He was +right. He was not abandoning Nada. He was not running away. She WANTED +him to go! + +The night swallowed him. He became a part of the yellow floods of its +moonlight, a part of its shifting shadows, a part of its stillness, its +mystery, its promise of impending things. He knew that grim and +terrible happenings had come with the storm, and he still sensed the +nearness of tragedy in this night-world through which he was passing. +He did not go swiftly, yet he went three times as fast as the girl and +he had traveled together. He was cautious and watchful, and at +intervals he stopped and listened, and swallowed hard to keep the whine +of eagerness out of his throat. Now that he was alone every instinct in +him was keyed to the pulse and beat of life about him. He knew the +Night People of the deep forests were awake. Softly padded, clawed, +sharp-beaked and feathered--the prowlers of darkness were on the move. +With the stillness of shadows they were stealing through the moonlit +corridors of the wilderness, or hovering gray-winged and ghostly in the +ambuscades of the treetops, eager to waylay and kill, hungering for the +flesh and blood of creatures weaker than themselves. Peter knew. Both +heritage and experience warned him. And he watched the shadows, and +sniffed the air, and kept his fangs half bared and ready as he followed +the trail of McKay. + +He was not stirred by the impulse of adventure alone. Without the +finesse of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he had +sensed a responsibility. It was present in the closely drawn strips of +faded cloth about his neck. It was, in a way, a part of the girl +herself, a part of her flesh and blood, a part of her spirit--something +vital to her and dependent upon him. He was ready to guard it with +every instinct of caution and every ounce of courage there was in him. +And to protect it meant to fight. That was the first law of his breed, +the primal warning which came to him through the red blood of many +generations of wilderness forefathers. So he listened, and he watched, +and his blood pounded hot in his veins as he followed the footprints in +the trail. A bit of brush, swinging suddenly free from where it had +been prisoned by the storm, drew a snarl from him as he faced the sound +with the quickness of a cat. A gray streak, passing swiftly over the +trail ahead of him, stirred a low growl in his throat. It was a lynx, +and for a space Peter paused, and then sped soft-footed past the +moon-lit spot where the stiletto-clawed menace of the woods had passed. + +Now that he was alone, and no longer accompanied by a human presence +whose footsteps and scent held the wild things aloof and still, Peter +felt nearer and nearer to him the beat and stir of life. Powerful +beaks, instead of remaining closed and without sound, snapped and +hissed at him as the big gray owls watched his passing. He heard the +rustling of brush, soft as the stir of a woman's dress, where living +things were secretly moving, and he heard the louder crash of clumsy +and piggish feet, and caught the strong scent of a porcupine as it +waddled to its midnight lunch of poplar bark. Then the trail ended, and +Jolly Roger's scent led into the pathless forest, with its shifting +streams and pools of moonlight, its shadows and black pits of darkness. +And here--now--Peter began his trespass into the strongholds of the +People of the Night. He heard a wolf howl, a cry filled with +loneliness, yet with a shivering death-note in it; he caught the musky, +skunkish odor of a fox that was stalking prey in the face of a +whispering breath of wind; once, in a moment of dead stillness, he +listened to the snap of teeth and the crackle of bones in one of the +dark pits, where a fisher-cat--with eyes that gleamed like coals of +fire--was devouring the warm and bleeding carcass of a mother +partridge. And beaks snapped at him more menacingly as he went on, and +gray shapes floated over his head, and now and then he heard the cries +of dying things--the agonized squeak of a wood-mouse, the cry of a +day-bird torn from its sleeping place by a sinuous, beady-eyed creature +of fur and claw, the noisy screaming of a rabbit swooped upon and +pierced to the vitals by one of the gray-feathered pirates of the air. +And then, squarely in the center of a great pool of moonlight, Peter +came upon a monster. It was a bear, a huge mother bear, with two +butter-fat cubs wrestling and rolling in the moon glow. Peter had never +seen a bear. But the mother, who raised her brown nose suddenly from +the cool mold out of which she had been digging lily-bulbs, had seen +dogs. She had seen many dogs, and she had heard their howl, and she +knew that always they traveled with man. She gave a deep, chesty sniff, +and close after that sniff a WHOOF that startled the cubs like the +lashing end of a whip. They rolled to her, and with two cuffs of the +mother's huge paws they were headed in the right direction, and all +three crashed off into darkness. + +In spite of his swelling heart Peter let out a little yip. It was a +great satisfaction, just at a moment when his nerves were getting +unsteady, to discover that a monster like this one in the moonlight was +anxious to run away from him. And Peter went on, a bit of pride and +jauntiness in his step, his bony tail a little higher. + +A mile farther on, in another yellow pool of the moon, lay the partly +devoured carcass of a fawn. A wolf had killed it, and had fed, and now +two giant owls were rending and tearing in the flesh and bowels of what +the wolf had left. They were Gargantuans of their kind, one a male, the +other a female. Their talons warm in blood, their beaks red, their slow +brains drunk with a ravenous greed, they rose on their great wings in +sullen rage when Peter came suddenly upon them. He had ceased to be +afraid of owls. There was something shivery in the gritting of their +beaks, especially in the dark places, but they had never attacked him, +and had always kept out of his reach. So their presence in a black +spruce top directly over the dead fawn did not hold him back now. He +sniffed at the fresh, sweet meat, and hunger all at once possessed him. +Where the wolf had stripped open a tender flank he began to eat, and as +he ate he growled, so that warning of his possessorship reached the +spruce top. + +In answer to it came a stir of wings, and the male owl launched himself +out into the moon glow. The female followed. For a few moments they +floated like gray ghosts over Peter, silent as the night shadows. Then, +with the suddenness and speed of a bolt from a catapult, the giant male +shot out of a silvery mist of gloom and struck Peter. The two rolled +over the carcass of the fawn, and for a space Peter was dazed by the +thundering beat of powerful wings, and the hammering of the owl's beak +at the back of his neck. The male had missed his claw-hold, and driven +by rage and ferocity, fought to impale his victim from the ground, +without launching himself into the air again. Swiftly he struck, again +and again, while his wings beat like clubs. Suddenly his talons sank +into the cloth wrapped about Peter's neck. Terror and shock gave way to +a fighting madness inside Peter now. He struck up, and buried his fangs +in a mass of feathers so thick he could not feel the flesh. He tore at +the padded breast, snarling and beating with his feet, and then, as the +stiletto-points of the owl's talons sank through the cloth into his +neck, his jaws closed on one of the huge bird's legs. His teeth sank +deep, there was a snapping and grinding of tendon and bone, and a +hissing squawk of pain and fear came from above him as the owl made a +mighty effort to launch himself free. As the five-foot pinions beat the +air Peter was lifted from the ground. But the owl's talons were +hopelessly entangled in the cloth, and the two fell in a heap again. +Peter scarcely sensed what happened after that, except that he was +struggling against death. He closed his eyes, and the leg between his +jaws was broken and twisted into pulp. The wings beat about him in a +deafening thunder, and the owl's beak tore at his flesh, until the pool +of moonlight in which they fought was red with blood. At last something +gave way. There was a ghastly cry that was like the cry of neither bird +nor beast, a weak flutter of wings, and Gargantua of the Air staggered +up into the treetops and fell with a crash among the thick boughs of +the spruce. + +Peter raised himself weakly, the severed leg of the owl dropping from +his jaws. He was half blinded. Every muscle in his body seemed to be +torn and bleeding, yet in his discomfort the thrilling conviction came +to him that he had won. He tensed himself for another attack, hugging +the ground closely as he watched and waited, but no attack came. He +could hear the flutter and wheeze of his maimed adversary, and slowly +he drew himself back--still facing the scene of battle--until in a +farther patch of gloom he turned once more to his business of following +the trail of Jolly Roger McKay. + +There was no mark of bravado in his advance now. If he had possessed an +over-growing confidence, Gargantua's attack had set it back, and he +stole like a shifty fox through the night. Driven into his brain was +the knowledge that all things were not afraid of him, for even the +snapping beaks and floating gray shapes to which he had paid but little +attention had now become a deadly menace. His egoism had suffered a +jolt, a healthful reaction from its too swift ascendency. He sensed the +narrowness of his escape without the mental action of reasoning it out, +and his injuries were secondary to the oppressive horror of the uncanny +combat out of which he had come alive. Yet this horror was not a fear. +Heretofore he had recognized the ghostly owl-shapes of night more or +less as a curious part of darkness, inspiring neither like nor dislike +in him. Now he hated them, and ever after his fangs gleamed white when +one of them floated over his head. + +He was badly hurt. There were ragged tears in his flank and back, and a +last stroke of Gargantua's talons had stabbed his shoulder to the bone. +Blood dripped from him, and one of his eyes was closing, so that shapes +and shadows were grotesquely dim in the night. Instinct and caution, +and the burning pains in his body, urged him to lie down in a thicket +and wait for the day. But stronger than these were memory of the girl's +urging voice, the vague thrill of the cloth still about his neck, and +the freshness of Jolly Roger's trail as it kept straight on through the +forest's moonlit corridors and caverns of gloom. + +It was in the first graying light of July dawn that Peter dragged +himself up the rough side of a ridge and looked down into a narrow +strip of plain on the other side. Just as Nada had given up in weakness +and despair, so now he was almost ready to quit. He had traveled miles +since the owl fight, and his wounds had stiffened, and with every step +gave him excruciating pain. His injured eye was entirely closed, and +there was a strange, dull ache in the back of his head, where Gargantua +had pounded him with his beak. The strip of valley, half hidden in its +silvery mist of dawn, seemed a long distance away to Peter, and he +dropped on his belly and began to lick his raw shoulder with a feverish +tongue. He was sick and tired, and the futility of going farther +oppressed him. He looked again down into the strip of plain, and whined. + +Then, suddenly, he smelled something that was not the musty fog-mist +that hung between the ridges. It was smoke. Peter's heart beat faster, +and he pulled himself to his feet, and went in its direction. + +Hidden in a little grassy cup between two great boulders that thrust +themselves out from the face of the ridge, he found Jolly Roger. First +he saw the smouldering embers of a fire that was almost out--and then +his master. Jolly Roger was asleep. Storm-beaten and strangely haggard +and gray his face was turned to the sky. Peter did not awaken him. +There was something in his master's face that quieted the low whimper +in his throat. Very gently he crept to him, and lay down. The movement, +slight as it was, made the man stir. His hand rose, and then fell +limply across Peter's body. But the fingers moved. + +Unconsciously, as if guided by the spirit and prayer of the girl +waiting far back in the forest, they twined about the cloth around +Peter's neck--his message to his master. + +And for a long time after that, as the sun rose over a wonderful world, +Peter and his master slept. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the restlessness of Peter that roused Jolly Roger. Half awake, +and before he opened his eyes, life seized upon him where sleep had cut +it off for a time last night. His muscles ached. His neck was stiff. He +seemed weighted like a log to the hard earth. Swiftly the experience of +the preceding hours rushed upon him, and it was in the first of this +wakefulness that he felt the presence of Peter. + +He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the dog. The fact that Peter had +escaped from the cabin, and had followed him, was not altogether +amazing. It was quite the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. But +the unexpectedness of it held McKay speechless, and at first a little +disappointed. It was as if Peter had deliberately betrayed a trust. +During the storm and flight of the night McKay had thought of him as +the one connecting link remaining between him and the girl he loved. He +had left Peter to fill his place, to guard and watch and keep alive the +memory of the man who was gone. For him there had been something of +consolation in this giving up of his comradeship to Nada. And Peter had +turned traitor. + +Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was +passing behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay +squatted on his belly, with his nose straight out on the ground between +his forepaws. It was his attitude of self-immolation. His +acknowledgment of the other's right to strike with lash or club. Yet in +his eyes, bright and steady behind his mop of whiskers, Jolly Roger saw +a prayer. + +Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and in a +moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there was a +mighty something that reached from heart to heart of these two, and +Jolly Roger said, with a sound that was half laugh and half sob in his +throat, + +“Pied-Bot, you devil--you little devil--” + +His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart +jumped when he saw what it was--a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, +realizing that at last the importance of his mission was understood, +waited in eager watchfulness while his master untied the knot. And in +another moment, out in the clean and glorious sun that had followed +storm, McKay held the shining tress of Nada's hair. + +It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him crush +the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while strange quivers +ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness that was not rain +gathered in his eyes. + +“God bless her!” he whispered. And then he said, “I wish I was a kid, +Peter--a kid. Because--if I ever wanted to cry--IT'S NOW.” + +In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his lips, +Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and looked +south, back over the trail he had followed through the blackness and +storm of night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada in Father John's +cabin, urging Peter out into the wild tumult of thunder and lightning +with that precious part of her which she knew he would love forever. +Her last message to him. Her last promise of love and faith until the +end of time. + +He guessed only the beginning of the truth. And Peter, denied the power +of thought transmission because of an error in the creation of things, +ran back a little way over the trail, trying to tell his master that +Nada had come with him through the storm, and was back in the deep +forest calling for him to return. + +But McKay's mind saw nothing beyond the dimly lighted room of the +Missioner's cabin. + +He pressed his lips to the silken tress of Nada's hair, still damp with +the rain; and after that, with the care of a miser he smoothed it out, +and tied the end of the tress tightly with a string, and put it away in +the soft buckskin wallet which he carried. + +There was a new singing in his heart as he gathered sticks with which +to build a small fire, for after this he would not travel quite alone. + +That day they went on; and day followed day, until August came, and +north--still farther north they went into the illimitable wilderness +which reached out in the drowsing stillness of the Flying-up-Month--the +month when newly fledged things take to their wings, and the deep +forests lie asleep. + +Days added themselves into weeks, until at last they were in the +country of the Reindeer waterways. + +To the east was Hudson's Bay; westward lay the black forests and +twisting waterways of Upper Saskatchewan; and north--always +north--beckoned the lonely plains and unmapped wildernesses of the +Athabasca, the Slave and the Great Bear--toward which far country their +trail was slowly but surely wending its way. + +The woodlands and swamps were now empty of man. Cabin and shack and +Indian tepee were lifeless, and waited in the desolation of +abandonment. No smoke rose in the tree-tops; no howl of dog came with +the early dawn and the setting sun; trap lines were over-growing, and +laughter and song and the ring of the trapper's axe were gone, leaving +behind a brooding silence that seemed to pulse and thrill like a great +heart--the heart of the wild unchained for a space from its human +bondage. + +It was the vacation time--the midsummer carnival weeks of the +wilderness people. Wild things were breeding. Fur was not good. Flesh +was unfit to kill. And so they had disappeared, man, woman and child, +and their dogs as well, to foregather at the Hudson's Bay Company's +posts scattered here and there in the fastnesses of the wilderness +lands. A few weeks more and they would return. Cabins would send up +their smoke again. Brown-faced children would play about the tepee +door. Ten thousand dwellers of the forests, white and half-breed and +Indian born, would trickle in twos and threes and family groups back +into the age-old trade of a domain that reached from Hudson's Bay to +the western mountains and from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. + +Until then nature was free, and in its freedom ran in riotous silence +over the land. These were days when the wolf lay with her young, but +did not howl; when the lynx yawned sleepily, and hunted but +little--days of breeding, nights of drowsy whisperings, and of big red +moons, and of streams rippling softly at lowest ebb while they dreamed +of rains and flood-time. And through it all--through the lazy drone of +insects, the rustling sighs of the tree-tops and the subdued notes of +living things ran a low and tremulous whispering, as if nature had +found for itself a new language in this temporary absence of man. + +To Jolly Roger this was Life, It breathed for him out of the cool +earth. He heard it over him, and under him, and on all sides of him +where other ears would have found only a thing vast and oppressive and +silent. On what he called these “motherhood days of the earth” the +passing years had built his faith and his creed. + +One evening he stopped for camp at the edge of the Burntwood. From his +feet reached out the wide river, ankle deep in places, knee deep in +others, rippling and singing between sandbars and driftwood where in +May and June it had roared with the fury of flood Peter, half asleep +after their day's travel through a hot forests watched his master. +Since their flight from the edge of civilization far south he had grown +heavier and broadened out. The hardship of adventuring and the craft of +fighting for food and life had whipped the last of his puppyhood behind +him At six months of age he was scarred, and lithe-muscled, and ready +for instant action at all times. Through the mop of Airedale whiskers +that covered his face his bright eyes were ever alert, and always they +watched the back-trail as he wondered why the slim, blue-eyed girl they +both loved and missed so much did not come. And vaguely he wondered why +it was that his master always went on and on, and never waited for her +to catch up with them. + +And Jolly Roger was changed. He was not the plump and rosy-faced +wilderness freebooter who whistled and sang away down at Cragg's Ridge +even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness of their +flight had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in his face. But +in his clear eyes was still the love of life--a thing even stronger +than the grief which was eating at his heart as their trail reached +steadily toward the Barren Lands. + +In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes saw his +master draw forth their treasure. + +It was something he had come to look for, and expect--once, twice, and +sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the setting of the +sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight for the day, Jolly +Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. Peter drew nearer to +where his master was sitting with his back to the big rock, and his +eyes glistened. Always he caught the sweet, illusive perfume of the +girl when Jolly Roger drew out their preciously guarded package. He +unwrapped it gently now, and in a moment held in his hands the tress of +Nada's hair, the last of her they would ever possess or see. And Peter +wondered again why they did not go back to where they had left the rest +of the girl. Many times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, +Jolly Roger had tried to make him understand. And Peter tried to +comprehend. But always in his dreams he was with the girl he loved, +following her, playing with her, fighting for her, hearing her +voice--feeling the touch of her hand. In his dog soul he wanted her, +just as Jolly Roger wanted her with all the yearning and heartbreak of +the man. Yet always when he awoke from his dreams they went on +again--not south--but north. To Peter this was hopeless mystery, and he +possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor could he speak in words +the message which he carried in his heart--that last crying agony of +the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of Roger McKay, +entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would always love in +spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the world. + +That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his master +crying out Nada's name in his sleep. + +And the next dawn they went on--still farther north. + +In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness +about him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were +struggling to break down the first law of his creed. The law might +catch him, and probably would, and when it caught him the law might +hang him--and probably would. But it would never KNOW him. There was +something grimly and tragically humorous in this. It would never know +of the consuming purity of his worship for little children, and old +people--and women. It would laugh at the religion he had built up for +himself, and it would cackle tauntingly if he dared to say he was not +wholly bad. For it believed he was bad, and it believed he had killed +Jed Hawkins, and he knew that seven hundred men were anxious to get +him, dead or alive. + +But was he bad? + +He took the matter up one evening, with Peter. + +“If I'm bad, mebby it isn't all my fault, Pied-Bot,” he said. “Mebby +it's this--” and he swept his arms out to the gathering night. “I was +born in the open, on a night just like this is going to be. My mother, +before she died, told me many times how she watched the moon come up +that night, and how it seemed to look down on her, and talk to her, +like a living thing. And I've loved the moon ever since, and the sun, +and everything that's outdoors--and if there's a God I don't believe He +ever intended man to make a law that wasn't right according to the +plans He laid out. That's where I've got in wrong, Pied-Bot, I haven't +always believed in man-made law, and I've settled a lot of things in my +own way. And I guess I've loved trees and flowers and sunshine and wind +and storm too much. I've just wandered. And I've done things along the +way. The thrill of it got into me, Pied-Bot, and--the law wants me!” + +Peter heard the subdued humor of the man, a low laugh that held neither +fear nor regret. + +“It was the Treaty Money first,” he went on, leaning very seriously +toward Peter, as if he expected an argument. “You see, Yellow Bird was +in that particular tribe, Pied-Bot. I remember her as she looked to me +when a boy, with her two long, shining black braids and her face that +was almost as beautiful to me as my mother's. My mother loved her, and +she loved my mother, and I loved Yellow Bird, just as a child loves a +fairy. And always Yellow Bird has been my fairy, Peter. I guess child +worship is the one thing that lasts through life, always remaining +ideal, and never forgotten. Years after my mother's death, when I was a +young man, and had been down to Montreal and Ottawa and Quebec, I went +back to Yellow Bird's tribe. And it was starving, Pied-Bot. Starving to +death!” + +Reminiscent tenderness and humor were gone from McKay's voice. It was +hard and flinty. + +“It was winter,” he continued, “the dead of winter. And cold. So cold +that even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in. No fish that +autumn, no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were starving. +Pied-Bot, my heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird. There didn't seem +to be anything left of her but her eyes and her hair--those two great, +shining braids, and eyes that were big and deep and dark, like +beautiful pools. Boy, you never saw an Indian--an Indian like Yellow +Bird--cry. They don't cry very much. But when that childhood fairy of +mine first saw me she just stood there, swaying in her weakness, and +the tears filled those big, wide-open eyes and ran down her thin +cheeks. She had married Slim Buck. Two of their three children had died +within a fortnight. Slim Buck was dying of hunger and exhaustion. And +Yellow Bird's heart was broken, and her soul was crying out for God to +let her lie down beside Slim Buck and die with him--when I happened +along. + +“Peter--” Jolly Roger leaned over in the thickening dusk, and his eyes +gleamed. “Peter, if there's a God, an' He thinks I did wrong then, let +Him strike me dead right here! I'm willin'. I found out what the +trouble was. There was a new Indian Agent, a cur. And near the tribe +was a Free Trader, another cur. The two got together. The Agent sent up +the Treaty Money, and along with it--underground, mind you--he sent a +lot of whiskey to the Free Trader. Inside of five days the whiskey got +the Treaty Money from the Indians. Then came winter. Everything went +bad, When I came--and found out what had happened--eighteen out of +sixty had died, and inside of another two weeks half the others would +follow. Pied-Bot, away back--somewhere--there must have been a pirate +before me--mebby a great-grandfather of mine. I set out, I came back in +three days, and I had a sledge-load of grub, and warm things to +wear--plenty of them. My God, how those starving things did eat! I went +again, and returned in another week, with a still bigger sledge-load. +And Yellow Bird was getting beautiful again, and Slim Buck was on his +feet, growing strong, and there was happiness--and I think God A'mighty +was glad. I kept it up for two months. Then the back-bone of the winter +broke. Game came into the country I left them well supplied--and +skipped. That was what made me an outlaw, Pied-Bot. That!” + +He chuckled, and Peter heard the rubbing of his hands in the gloom. + +“Want to know why?” he asked. “Well, you see, I went over to the Free +Trader's, and this God the law don't take into account went with me, +and we found the skunk alone. First I licked him until he was almost +dead. Then, sticking a knife into him about half an inch, I made him +write a note saying he was called south suddenly, and authorizing me to +take charge in his absence. Then I chained him in a dugout in a place +where nobody would find him. And I took charge. Pied-Bot, I sure did! +Everybody was on the trap-lines, and I wasn't bothered much by callers. +And I fed and clothed my tribe for eight straight weeks, fed 'em until +they grew fat, Boy--and Yellow Bird's eyes were bright as stars again. +Then I brought Roach--that was his name--back to his empty post, and I +lectured him, an' gave him another licking--and left.” + +McKay rose to his feet. The first stars were peeping out of the velvety +darkness of the sky, and Peter heard his master draw in a deep +breath--the breath of a man whose lungs rejoice in the glory of life. + +After a moment he said, + +“And the Royal Mounted have been after me ever since that winter, +Peter. And the harder they've chased me the more I've given them reason +to chase me. I half killed Beaudin, the Government mail-runner, because +he insulted another man's wife when that man--my friend--was away. Then +Beaudin, seeing his chance, robbed the mail himself, and the crime was +laid to me. Well, I got even, and stuck up a mail-sledge myself--but I +guess there was a good reason for it. I've done a lot of things since +then, but I've done it all with my naked fists, and I've never put a +bullet or a knife into a man except Roach the Free Trader. And the +funniest thing of the whole business, Pied-Bot, is this--I didn't kill +Jed Hawkins. Some day mebby I'll tell you about what happened on the +trail, the thing which you and Nada didn't see. But now--” + +For a moment he stood very still, and Peter sensed the sudden thrill +that was going through the man as he stood there in darkness. And then, +suddenly, Jolly Roger bent over him. + +“Peter, there's three women we'll love as long as we live,” he +whispered. “There's my mother, and she is dead. There's Nada back +there, and we'll never see her again--” His voice choked for an +instant. “And then--there's Yellow Bird--” he added. “It's five years +since I fed the tribe. Mebby they've had more kids! Boy, let's go and +see!” + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +North and west, in the direction of Yellow Bird's people, went Jolly +Roger and Peter after that night. They traveled slowly and cautiously, +and with each day Peter came to understand more clearly there was some +reason why they must be constantly on their guard. His master, he +noticed, was thrillingly attentive whenever a sound came to their +ears--perhaps the cracking of a twig, a mysterious movement of brush, +or the tread of a cloven hoof. And instinctively he came to know they +were evading Man. He remembered vividly their escape from Cassidy and +their quiet hiding for many days in the mass of sun-baked rocks which +Jolly Roger had called the Stew-Kettle. The same vigilance seemed to be +a part of his master's movements now. He did not laugh, or sing, or +whistle, or talk loudly. He built fires so small that at first Peter +was absorbed in an almost scientific analysis of them; and instead of +shooting game which could have been easily secured he set little snares +in the evening, and caught fish in the streams. At night they always +slept half a mile or more from the place where they had built their +tiny supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep Peter was ready to +rouse himself at the slightest sound of movement near them. Scarcely a +night passed that his low growl of warning did not bring Jolly Roger +out of his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open. + +Whether he would have used the gun had the red-coated police suddenly +appeared, McKay had not quite assured himself. Day after day the same +old fight went on within him. He analyzed his situation from every +point of view, and always--no matter how he went about it--eventually +found himself face to face with the same definite fact. If the law +succeeded in catching Him it would not trouble itself to punish him for +stealing back the Treaty Money, or for holding up Government mails, or +for any of his other misdemeanors. It would hang him for the murder of +Jed Hawkins. And the minions of the law would laugh at the truth, even +if he told it--which he never would. More than once his imaginative +genius had drawn up a picture of that impossible happening. For it was +a truth so inconceivable that he found the absurdity of it a grimly +humorous thing. Even Nada believed he had killed her scoundrelly +foster-father. Yet it was she--herself--who had killed him! And it was +Nada whom the law would hang, if the truth was known--and believed. + +Frequently he went back over the scenes of that tragic night at Cragg's +Ridge when all the happiness in the world seemed to be offering itself +to him--the night when Nada was to go with him to the Missioner's, to +become his wife, And then--the dark trail--the disheveled girl +staggering to him through the starlight, and her sobbing story of how +Jed Hawkins had tried to drag her through the forest to Mooney's cabin, +and how--at last--she had saved herself by striking him down with a +stick which she had caught up out of the darkness. Would the police +believe HIM--an outlaw--if he told the rest of the story?--how he had +gone back to give Jed Hawkins the beating of his life, and had found +him dead in the trail, where Nada had struck him down? Would they +believe him if, in a moment of cowardice, he told them that to protect +the girl he loved he had fastened the responsibility of the crime upon +himself? No, they would not. He had made the evidence too complete. The +world would call him a lying yellow-back if he betrayed what had +actually happened on the trail between Cragg's Ridge and Mooney's cabin. + +And this, after all, was the one remaining bit of happiness in Jolly +Roger's heart, the knowledge that he had made the evidence utterly +complete, and that Nada would never know, and the world would never +know--the truth. His love for the blue-eyed girl-woman who had given +her heart and her soul into his keeping, even when she knew he was an +outlaw, was an undying thing, like his love for the mother of years +ago. “It will be easy to die for her,” he told Peter, and this, in the +end, was what he knew he was going to do. Thought of the inevitable did +not make him afraid. He was determined to keep his freedom and his life +as long as he could, but he was fatalistic enough, and sufficiently +acquainted with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, to know what the +ultimate of the thing would be. And yet, with tragedy behind him, and a +still grimmer tragedy ahead, the soul of Jolly Roger was not dead or in +utter darkness. In it, waking and sleeping, he enshrined the girl who +had been willing to give up all other things in the world for him, who +had pleaded with him in the last hour of storm down on the edge of +civilization that she be given the privilege of accompanying him +wherever his fate might lead. That he was an outlaw had not destroyed +her faith in him. That he had killed a man--a man unfit to live--had +only drawn her arms more closely about him, and had made her more +completely a part of him. And a thousand times the maddening thought +possessed Jolly Roger--was he wrong, and not right, in refusing to +accept the love and companionship which she had begged him to accept, +in spite of all that had happened and all that might happen? + +Day by day he slowly won for himself, and at last, as they traveled in +the direction of Yellow Bird's country, he crushed the final doubt that +oppressed him, and knew that he was right. In his selfishness he had +not shackled her to an outlaw. He had left her free. Life and hope and +other happiness were ahead of her. He had not destroyed her, and this +thought would strengthen him and leave something of gladness in his +heart, even in that gray dawn when the law would compel him to make his +final sacrifice. + +It is a strange peace which follows grief, a secret happiness no other +soul but one can understand. Out of it excitement and passion have been +burned, and it is then the Great God of things comes more closely into +the possession of his own. And now, as they went westward and north +toward the Wollaston Lake country, this peace possessed Jolly Roger. It +mellowed his world. It was half an ache, half a steady and undying +pain, but it drew Life nearer to him than he had ever known it before. +His love for the sun and the sky, for the trees and flowers and all +growing things of the earth was more worship of the divine than a love +for physical things, and each day he felt it drawing more closely about +him in its comradeship, whispering to him of its might, and of its +power to care for him in the darkest hours of stress that might come. + +He did not travel fast after he had reached the decision to go to +Yellow Bird's people. And he tried to imagine, a great deal of the +time, that Nada was with him. He succeeded in a way that bewildered +Peter, for quite frequently the man talked to someone who was not there. + +The slowness and caution with which they traveled developed Peter's +mental faculties with marvelous swiftness. His master, free of egoism +and prejudice, had placed him on a plane of intimate equality, and +Peter struggled each day to live up a little more to the responsibility +of this intimacy and confidence. Instinct, together with human +training, taught him woodcraft until in many ways he was more clever +than his master. And along with this Jolly Roger slowly but surely +impressed upon him the difference between wanton slaughter and +necessary killing. + +“Everything that's got a breath of life must kill--up to a certain +point,” Jolly Roger explained to him, repeating the lesson over and +over. “And that isn't wrong, Peter. The sin is in killing when you +don't have to. See that tree over there, with a vine as big as my wrist +winding around it, like a snake? Well, that vine is choking the life +out of the tree, and in time the tree will die. But the vine is doing +just what God A'mighty meant it to do. It needs a tree to live on. But +I'm going to cut the vine, because I think more of the tree than I do +the vine. That's MY privilege--following my conscience. And we're +eating young partridges tonight, because we had to have something to +keep us alive. It's the necessity of the thing that counts, Peter. +Think you can understand that?” + +It was pretty hard for Peter at first, but he was observant, and his +mind worked quickly. The crime of destroying birdlings in their nest, +or on the ground, was impressed upon him. He began to understand there +was a certain humiliating shame attached to an attack upon a creature +weaker than himself, unless there was a reason for it. He looked +chiefly to his master for decisions in the matter. Snowshoe rabbits, +young and half grown, were very tame in this month of August, and +ordinarily he would have destroyed many of them in a day's travel. But +unless Jolly Roger gave him a signal, or he was hungry, he would pass a +snowshoe unconcernedly. This phase of Peter's development interested +Jolly Roger greatly. The outlaw's philosophy had not been punctured by +the egotistical “I am the only reasoning being” arguments of +narrow-gauged nature scientists. He believed that Peter possessed not +only a brain and super-instinct, but also a very positive reasoning +power which he was helping to develop. And the process was one that +fascinated him. When he was not sleeping, or traveling, or teaching +Peter he was usually reading the wonderful little red volumes of +history which he had purloined from the mail sledge up near the Barren +Lands. He knew their contents nearly by heart. His favorites were the +life-stories of Napoleon, Margaret of Anjou, and Peter the Great, and +always when he compared his own troubles with the difficulties and +tragedies over which these people had triumphed he felt a new courage +and inspiration, and faced the world with better cheer. If Nature was +his God and Bible, and Nada his Angel, these finger-worn little books +written by a man half a century dead were voices out of the past urging +him on to his best. Their pages were filled with the vivid lessons of +sacrifice, of courage and achievement, of loyalty, honor and +dishonor--and of the crashing tragedy which comes always with the last +supreme egoism and arrogance of man. He marked the dividing lines, and +applied them to himself. And he told Peter of his conclusions. He felt +a consuming tenderness for the glorious Margaret of Anjou, and his +heart thrilled one day when a voice seemed to whisper to him out of the +printed page that Nada was another Margaret--only more wonderful +because she was not a princess and a queen. + +“The only difference,” he explained to Peter, “is that Margaret +sacrificed and fought and died for a king, and our Nada is willing to +do all that for a poor beggar of an outlaw. Which makes Margaret a +second-rater compared with Nada,” he added. “For Margaret wanted a +kingdom along with her husband, and Nada would take--just you and me. +And that's where we're pulling some Peter the Great stuff,” he tried to +laugh. “We won't let her do it!” + +And so they went on, day after day, toward the Wollaston waterways--the +country of Yellow Bird and her people. + +It was early September when they crossed the Geikie and struck up the +western shore of Wollaston Lake. The first golden tints were ripening +in the canoe-birch leaves, and the tremulous whisper of autumn was in +the rustle of the aspen trees. The poplars were yellowing, the ash were +blood red with fruit, and in cool, dank thickets wild currants were +glossy black and lusciously ripe. It was the season which Jolly Roger +loved most of all, and it was the beginning of Peter's first September. +The days were still hot, but at night there was a bracing something in +the air that stirred the blood, and Peter found a sharp, new note in +the voices of the wild. The wolf howled again in the middle of the +night. The loon forgot his love-sickness, and screamed raucous defiance +at the moon. The big snowshoes were no longer tame, but wary and alert, +and the owls seemed to slink deeper into darkness and watch with more +cunning. And Jolly Roger knew the human masters of the wilderness were +returning from the Posts to their cabins and trap-lines, and he +advanced with still greater caution. And as he went, watching for smoke +and listening for sound, he began to reflect upon the many changes +which five years might have produced among Yellow Bird's people. +Possibly other misfortunes had come, other winters of hunger and +pestilence, scattering and destroying the tribe. It might even be that +Yellow Bird was dead. + +For three days he followed slowly the ragged shore of Wollaston Lake, +and foreboding of evil was oppressing him when he came upon the +fish-racks of the Indians. They had been abandoned for many days, for +black bear tracks fairly inundated the place, and Peter saw two of the +bears--fat and unafraid--nosing along the shore where the fish offal +had been thrown. + +It was the next day, in the hour before sunset, that Jolly Roger and +Peter came out on the edge of a shelving beach where Indian children +were playing in the white sand. Among these children, playing and +laughing with them, was a woman. She was tall and slim, with a skirt of +soft buckskin that came only a little below her knees, and two shining +black braids which tossed like velvety ropes when she ran. And she was +running when they first saw her--running away from them, pursued by the +children; and then she twisted suddenly, and came toward them, until +with a startled cry she stopped almost within the reach of Jolly +Roger's hands. Peter was watching. He saw the half frightened look in +her face, then the slow widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake +of her breath. And in that moment Jolly Roger cried out a name. + +“Yellow Bird!” + +He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years had +touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out her hands +to him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and Peter wondered +what it was all about as he cautiously eyed the half dozen brown-faced +little Indian children who had now gathered quietly about them. In +another moment there was an interruption. A girl came through the +fringe of willows behind them. It was as if another Yellow Bird had +come to puzzle Peter--the same slim, graceful little body, the same +shining eyes, and yet she was half a dozen years younger than Nada. For +the first time Peter was looking at Sun Cloud, the daughter of Yellow +Bird. And in that moment he loved her, just as something gave him +confidence and faith in the starry-eyed woman whose hands were in his +master's. Then Yellow Bird called, and the girl went to her mother, and +Jolly Roger hugged her in his arms and kissed her on the scarlet mouth +she turned up to him. Then they hurried along the shore toward the +fishing camp, the children racing ahead to tell the news, led by Sun +Cloud--with Peter running at her heels. + +[Illustration: They hurred to the camp, the children racing ahead to +tell the news] + +Never had Peter heard anything from a man's throat like the two yells +that came from Slim Buck, Yellow Bird's husband and chief of the tribe, +after he had greeted Jolly Roger McKay. It was a note harking back to +the old war trails of the Crees, and what followed it that night was +most exciting to Peter. Big fires were built of white driftwood, and +there was singing and dancing, and a great deal of laughter and eating, +and the interminable howling of half a hundred Siwash dogs. Peter did +not like the dogs, but he did no fighting because his love for Sun +Cloud kept him close to the touch of her little brown hand. + +That night, in the glow of the big fire outside of Slim Buck's tepee, +Jolly Roger's heart thrilled with a pleasure which it had not known for +a long time. He loved to look at Yellow Bird. Five years had not +changed her. Her eyes were starry bright. Her teeth were like milk. The +color still came and went in her brown cheeks, even as it did in Sun +Cloud's. All of which, in this heart of a wilderness, meant that she +had been happy and prosperous. And he also loved to look at Sun Cloud, +who possessed all of that rare wildflower beauty sometimes given to the +northern Crees. And it did him good to look at Slim Buck. He was a +splendid mate, and a royal father, and Jolly Roger found himself +strangely happy in their happiness. In the eyes of men and women and +little children he saw that happiness all about him. For three winters +there had been splendid trapping, Slim Buck told him, and this season +they had caught and dried enough fish to carry them through the +following winter, even if black days should come. His people were rich. +They had many warm blankets, and good clothes, and the best of tepees +and guns and sledges, and several treasures besides. Two of these +Yellow Bird and her husband disclosed to Jolly Roger this first night. +One of them was a sewing machine, and the other--a phonograph! And +Jolly Roger listened to “Mother Machree” and “The Rosary” that night as +he sat by Wollaston Lake with six hundred miles of wilderness between +him and Cragg's Ridge. + +Later, when the camp slept, Yellow Bird and Slim Buck and Jolly Roger +still sat beside the red embers of their fire, and Jolly Roger told of +what had happened down at the edge of civilization. It was what his +heart needed, and he left out none of the details. Slim Buck was +listening, but Jolly Roger knew he was talking straight at Yellow Bird, +and that her warm heart was full of understanding. Softly, in that low +Cree voice which is the sweetest of all voices, she asked him many +questions about Nada, and gently her slim fingers caressed the tress of +Nada's hair which he let her take in her hands. And after a long time, +she said. + +“I have given her a name. She is Oo-Mee, the Pigeon.” + +Slim Buck started at the strange note in her voice. + +“The Pigeon,” he repeated, + +“Yes, Oo-Mee, the Pigeon,” Yellow Bird nodded. She was not looking at +them. In the firelight her eyes were glowing pools. Her body had grown +a little tense. Without asking Jolly Roger's permission she placed the +tress of Nada's hair in her bosom. “Oo-Mee, the Pigeon,” she said +again, looking far away. “That is her name, because the Pigeon flies +fast and straight and true. Over forests and lakes and worlds the +Pigeon flies. It is tireless. It is swift. It always--flies home.” + +Slim Buck rose quietly to his feet. + +“Come,” he whispered, looking at Jolly Roger, + +Yellow Bird did not look at them or speak to them, and Slim Buck--with +his hand on Jolly Roger's arm--pulled him gently away. In his eyes was +a little something of fear, and yet along with it a sublime faith. + +“Her spirit will be with Oo-Mee, the Pigeon, tonight,” he said in a +voice struck with awe. “It will go to this place which you have +described, and it will live in the body of the girl, and through Yellow +Bird it will tell you tomorrow what has happened, and what is going to +happen.” + +In the edge of the shore-willows Jolly Roger stood for a time watching +Yellow Bird as she sat under the stars, motionless as a figure graven +out of stone. He felt a curious tingling at his heart, something +stirring uneasily in his breast, and he stood alone even after Slim +Buck had stretched himself out in the soft sand to sleep. He was not +superstitious. Yet it was equally a part of his philosophy and his +creed to believe in the overwhelming power of the mind. “If you have +faith enough, and think hard enough, you can think anything until it +comes true,” he had told himself more than once. And he knew Yellow +Bird possessed that illimitable faith, and that behind her divination +lay generations and centuries of an unbreakable certainty in the power +of mind over matter. He realized his own limitations, but a mysterious +voice in the still night seemed whispering to him that in the crude +wisdom of Yellow Bird's brain lay the secret to strange achievement, +and that on this night her mind might perform for him what he, in his +greater wisdom, would call a miracle. He had seen things like that +happen. And he sat down in the sand, sleepless, and with Peter at his +feet waited for Yellow Bird to stir. + +He could see the dull shimmer of starlight in her hair, but the rest of +her was a shadow that gave no sign of life. The camp was asleep. Even +the dogs were buried in their wallows of sand, and the last red spark +of the fires had died out. The hour passed, and another hour followed, +and the lids of Jolly Roger's eyes grew heavier as the fading stars +seemed to be sinking deeper into infinity. At last he slept, with his +back leaning against a sand-dune the children had made. He dreamed, and +was flying through the air with Yellow Bird. She was traveling swift +and straight, like an arrow, and he had difficulty in keeping up with +her, and at last he cried out for her to wait--that he could go no +farther. The cry roused him. He opened his eyes, and found cool, gray +dawn in the sky. Peter, alert, was muzzling his hand. Slim Buck lay in +the sand, still asleep. There was no stir in the camp. And then, with a +sudden catch in his breath, he looked toward Yellow Bird's tepee. + +Yellow Bird still sat in the sand. Through the hours of fading +starlight and coming dawn she had not moved. Slowly McKay rose to his +feet. When he came to her, making no sound, she looked up. The shimmer +of glistening dew was in her hair. Her long lashes were wet with it. +Her face was very pale, and her eyes so large and dark that for a +moment they startled him. She was tired. Exhaustion was in her slim, +limp body. + +A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders swayed a little. + +“Sit down, Neekewa,” she whispered, drawing the ropes of her hair about +her as if she were cold. + +Then she drew a slim hand over her eyes, and shivered. + +“It is well, Neekewa,” she spoke softly. “I have gone through the +clouds to where lives Oo-Mee, the Pigeon. I found her crying in a +trail. I whispered to her and happiness came, and that happiness is +going to live--for Neekewa and The Pigeon. It cannot die. It cannot be +killed. The Red Coated men of the Great White Father will never destroy +it. You will live. She will live. You will meet again--in happiness. +And happiness will follow ever after. That much I learned, Neekewa. In +happiness--you will meet again.” + +“Where? When?” whispered Jolly Roger, his heart beating with sudden +swiftness. + +Again Yellow Bird passed her hand over her eyes, and as she held it +there for a moment she bowed her head until Jolly Roger could see only +her dew-wet hair and she said, + +“In the Country Beyond, Neekewa.” + +Her eyes were looking at him again, big, dark and filled with mystery. + +“And where is this country, Yellow Bird?” he asked, a strange chill +driving the warmth out of his heart. “You mean--up there?” And he +pointed to the gray sky above them. + +“No, it is happiness to come in life, not in death,” said Yellow Bird +slowly. “It is not beyond the stars. It is--” + +He waited, leaning toward her. + +“In the Country Beyond,” she repeated with a tired little droop of her +head. “And where that is I do not know, Neekewa. I could not pass +beyond the great white cloud that shut me out. But it is--somewhere, I +will find it. And then I will tell you--and The Pigeon.” + +She stood up, and swayed in the gray light, like one worn out by hard +travel. Then she passed into the tepee, and Jolly Roger heard her fall +on her blanket-bed. + +And still stranger whisperings filled his heart as he faced the east, +where the first red blush of day drove back the star-mists of dawn. He +heard a step in the soft sand, and Slim Buck stood beside him. And he +asked. + +“Did you ever hear of the Country Beyond?” Slim Buck shook his head, +and both looked in silence toward the rising sun. + +Peter was glad when the camp roused itself out of sleep with waking +voices, and laughter, and the building of fires. He waited eagerly for +Sun Cloud. At last she came out of Yellow Bird's tepee, rubbing her +eyes in the face of the glow in the east, and then her white teeth +flashed a smile of welcome at him. Together they ran down to the edge +of the lake, and Peter wagged his tail while Sun Cloud went out +knee-deep and scrubbed her pretty face with handfuls of the cool water. +It was a happy day for him. He was different from the Indian dogs, and +Sun Cloud and her playmates made much of him. But never, even in their +most exciting play, did he entirely lose track of his master. + +Jolly Roger, to an extent, forgot Peter. He tried to deaden within him +the impulses which Yellow Bird's conjuring had roused. He tried to see +in them a menace and a danger, and he repeated to himself the folly of +placing credence in Yellow Bird's “medicine.” But his efforts were +futile, and he was honest enough to admit it. The uneasiness was in his +breast. A new hope was rising up. And with that hope were fear and +suspense, for deep in him was growing stronger the conviction that what +Yellow Bird would tell him would be true. He noted the calm and +dignified stiffness with which Slim Buck greeted the day. The young +chief passed quietly among his people. A word traveled in whispers, +voices and footsteps were muffled and before the sun was an hour high +there was no tepee standing but one on that white strip of beach. And +the one tepee was Yellow Bird's. + +Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird come +out into the day. She saw the food placed at her tepee door. She saw +the empty places where the homes of her people had stood, and in the +wet sand of the beach the marks of their missing canoes. Then she +turned her pale face and tired eyes to the sun, and unbraided her hair +so that it streamed glistening all about her and covered the white sand +when she sat down again in front of the smoke-darkened canvas that had +become her conjurer's house. + +Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp. But Slim +Buck and Jolly Roger remained in the cover of a wooded headland only +half a mile from Yellow Bird. They saw her when she came out. They +watched for an hour after she sat down in the sand. And then Slim Buck +grunted, and with a gesture of his hands said they would go. Jolly +Roger protested. It was not safe for Yellow Bird to remain entirely +beyond their protection. There were bears prowling about. And human +beasts occasionally found their way through the wilderness. But Slim +Buck's face was like a bronze carving in its faith and pride. + +“Yellow Bird only goes with the good spirits,” he assured Jolly Roger. +“She does not do witchcraft with the bad. And no harm can come while +the good spirits are with her. It is thus she has brought us happiness +and prosperity since the days of the famine, Neekewa!” + +He spoke these words in Cree, and McKay answered him in Cree as they +turned in the direction of the camp. Half way, Sun Cloud came to meet +them, with Peter at her side. She put a brown little hand in Jolly +Roger's. It was quite new and pleasant to be kissed as Jolly Roger had +kissed her, and she held up her mouth to him again. Then she ran ahead, +with Peter yipping foolishly and happily at her moccasined heels. + +And Jolly Roger said, + +“I wish I was your brother, Slim Buck, and Nada was Yellow Bird's +sister--and that I had many like her,” and his eyes followed Sun Cloud +with hungry yearning. + +And as he said these words, Yellow Bird sat with bowed head and closed +eyes, with the soft tress of Nada's hair in her hands. It was the +physical union between them, and all that day, and the night that +followed, Yellow Bird held it in her hand or against her breast as she +struggled to send out the soul that was in her on its mission to Oo-Mee +the Pigeon. In darkness she buried the food that was left her, and +stamped on it with her feet. The sacrifice of her body had begun, and +for two days thereafter Jolly Roger and Slim Buck saw no movement of +life about the lone tepee in the sand. + +But the third morning they saw the smoke of a little greenwood fire +rising straight up from in front of it. + +Slim Buck drew in a deep breath. It was the signal fire. + +“She knows,” he said, pointing for Jolly Roger to go. “She is calling +you!” + +The tenseness was gone from the bronze muscles of his face. He was +lonely without Yellow Bird, and the signal fire meant she would be with +him again soon. Jolly Roger walked swiftly over the white beach. Again +he tried to tell himself what folly it all was, and that he was +answering the signal-fire only to humor Yellow Bird and Slim Buck. But +words, even spoken half aloud, did not quiet the eager beating of his +heart. + +Not until he was very near did Yellow Bird come out of the tepee. And +it was then Jolly Roger stopped short, a gasp on his lips. She was +changed. Her radiant hair was still down, polished smooth; but her face +was whiter than he had ever seen it, and drawn and pinched almost as in +the days of the famine. For two days and two nights she had taken no +food, and for two days and two nights she had not slept. But there was +triumph in her big, wide-open eyes, and Jolly Roger felt something +strange rising up in his breast. + +Yellow Bird held out her hands toward him. + +“We have been together, The Pigeon and I,” she said. “We have slept in +each other's arms, and the warmth of her head has lain against my +breast. I have learned the secrets, Neekewa--all but one. The spirits +will not tell me where lies the Country Beyond. But it is not up +there--beyond the stars. It is not in death, but in life you will find +it. That they have told me. And you must not go back to where The +Pigeon lives, for you will find black desolation there--but always you +must keep on and on, seeking for the Country Beyond. You will find it. +And there also you will find The Pigeon--and happiness. You cannot +fail, Neekewa, yet my heart stings me that I cannot tell you where that +strange country is. But when I came to it gold and silver clouds shut +it in, and I could see nothing, and yet out of it came the singing of +birds and the promise of sweet voices that it shall be found--if you +seek faithfully, Neekewa. I am glad.” + +Each word that she spoke in her soft and tremulous Cree was a new +message of hope in the empty heart of Jolly Roger McKay. The world +might laugh. Men might tap their heads and smile. His own voice might +argue and taunt. But deep in his heart he believed. + +Something of the radiance of the new day came into his face, even as it +was returning into Yellow Bird's. He looked about him--east, west, +north and south--upon the sunlit glory of water and earth, and suddenly +he reached out his arms. + +“I'll find it, Yellow Bird,” he cried. “I'll find this place you call +the Country Beyond! And when I do--” + +He turned and took one of Yellow Bird's slim hands in both his own. + +“And when I do, we'll come back to you, Yellow Bird,” he said. + +And like a cavalier of old he touched his lips gently to the palm of +Yellow Bird's little brown hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird and +Slim Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back to +his own people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in Yellow +Bird's breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces of +the old softened when he came near and spoke to them; little children +followed him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to be +kissed. For the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home. +The northland Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, and the +sun-filled days and the starry nights seemed overflowing with the +promise of all time. Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and +each day Slim Buck urged him to remain with them always. + +But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did not +urge. Each day and night she was watching--and waiting. + +And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass. + +It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it. +This restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body, +still for a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds in +the sky and the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, of +unseen forces chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressive +lifelessness. + +There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as if +in flight. + +There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed. + +In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the +wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness +of death enshrouding it. + +At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was like +oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackened +and seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling the +shore of the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indian +dogs. From them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping of +a jaw, and in the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepees +was the spell of this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of +itself. Men, women and little children twisted and rolled, or lay +awake, and weird and distorted shapes and fancies came in dreams. + +In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the +gray blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud, +tossing on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it +lay across her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with +its silken strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide +awake, she was thinking--thinking as Slim Buck--would never be able to +think, back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and +when a little white boy--the woman's son--had called Yellow Bird “my +fairy.” + +In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's red +lips parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they were +pleasing days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly in +her mind until the day when the little boy--a man grown--came to save +her tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim +Buck her husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. +The spirits had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept +her still beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, +and Slim Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people were +happy. And all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the +gloom of the sky outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, “the little boy +grown up”--Jolly Roger McKay. + +As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits were +whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster and her +eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to be +accusing her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay had +come in that winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almost +killed, that she and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That +was the beginning, and the thrill of it had got into the blood of +Neekewa, her “little white brother grown up.” And now he was out there, +alone with his dog in the night--and the red-coated avengers of the law +were hunting him. They wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the +killing of a man. + +Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid of +Sun Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let the +soul go out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, +her white brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done +right to think of killing. + +Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than he +had already suffered--and that in the Country Beyond he would find Nada +the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did not +disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. But +the unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried to lift +herself to the whisperings above the tepee top. But they were +unintelligible, like many voices mingling, and with them came a dull +fear into her soul. + +She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, +and placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so +quietly that even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. +Through the tepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as +if now she might hear more clearly, and understand. + +For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in the +air, and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there was +no threat of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, with +starlight breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of +thunder or wail of wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to +stop its beating, and her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She +began to understand, and a strange thrill crept into her. The spirits +had put a great burden upon the night so that it might drive sleep from +her eyes. They were warning her. They were telling her of danger, +approaching swiftly, almost impending. And it was peril for the white +man who was sleeping somewhere near. + +Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making +no sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston. + +And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shone +through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in the +gloom. + +Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flat +mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter was +wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bony +body was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, though he +heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of a +fugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent and +velvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. +He, too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this +night of stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless +movements of his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the +name which he had spoken three times in the last five minutes of his +sleep. + +It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the old +way, as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his hands +struck the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up. The +sky had cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in that +starlight Jolly Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. At +first he thought it was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raised +to her. Then he saw it was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes looking +at him steadily and strangely as he awakened. + +He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It was +cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenly +her eyes swept from him out into the night. + +“Listen, Neekewa!” + +Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the +beating of her heart. + +“Twice I have heard it,” she whispered then. “Neekewa, you must go!” + +“Heard what?” he asked. + +She shook her head. + +“Something--I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And I +saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it all +about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is very +near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?” + +“I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird.” + +“And THAT!” she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. “That +sound--as if wood strikes on wood!” + +“The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird.” + +She drew her hand away. + +“Neekewa, listen to me,” she importuned him in Cree. “The spirits have +made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloud +twitches and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying out +the name of Nada--Oo-Mee the Pigeon--when I came to you. I know. It is +danger. It is very near. And it is danger for you.” + +“And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace were +coming to me, Yellow Bird,” reminded Jolly Roger. “The spirits, you +said, promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada again +in that strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spirits +changed their message, because the night is heavy?” + +Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness. + +“No, they have not changed,” she whispered. “They have spoken the +truth. They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. +They have tried to tell me where lies this place they call the Country +Beyond--where you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud always +comes between. And they are trying to tell me what the danger is off +there--in the darkness.” Suddenly she caught his arm. “Nee-kewa, DID +YOU HEAR?” + +“A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird.” + +He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw +Peter's muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake. + +“What is it, Pied-Bot?” he asked. + +Peter whimpered again. + +Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm. + +“Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me--the +red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a night +like this.” + +“They are coming,” she replied. “I cannot hear or see, but they are +coming!” + +Her fingers tightened. + +“And they are near,” she cried softly. + +“You are nervous, Yellow Bird,” he said, thinking of the two days and +three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor taken +food, that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. “There +is no danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you.” + +“It has warned me,” she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue +at his side. “Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not +forgotten that winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine +and sickness--when I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes +even in sleep, fearing she would never open them again. They have not +forgotten how all that winter you robbed the white people over on the +Des Chenes, that we might live. If they remember those things, and lie, +I would not be afraid to curse them. But they do not lie.” + +Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange +something was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. She +did not look at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow +notes of a bird, she was saying: + +“You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again +for a long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must +believe. Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The +spirits have said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the +Pigeon--and happiness. But if you go back to the place where you left +The Pigeon when you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will +find only blackness and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. +If you disbelieve--” + +She stopped. + +“You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it the +croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water. +IT WAS A PADDLE!” + +In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened. + +“Yes, a paddle,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. +“Probably it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird.” + +She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out to +him. Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars, +and for an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips. + +“Goodby, Neekewa,” she whispered. + +And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly +she ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out +again with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched +as Yellow Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, and +stood there, waiting for the strange canoe to pass--or come in. It was +approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, but +growing clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it +against the star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. +Before the canoe reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the +water and hailed it. + +A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped like a +shot beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. His +master's hand warned him, and together they slipped back into the +shadows, and from under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth his +pack, and quietly strapped it over his shoulders while he waited and +listened. + +And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly. + +“It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?” + +A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter--looking up--thought +for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphone +of his hands, and called very clearly out into the night. + +“Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?” + +Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific +danger. There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no sound +anywhere. For a few moments a death-like stillness followed Jolly +Roger's words. + +Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the +decisive clearness of a bullet coming from a gun. + +“Yes, this is Cassidy--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, Royal +Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?” + +“Yes, it's me,” replied Jolly Roger. “Does the wager still hold, +Cassidy?” + +“It holds.” + +There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again. + +“Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!” + +With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger and +Peter had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas. +Cassidy's Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes +they listened for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and +last came Yellow Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in +their excitement. Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, and +suspicious of something that was in her face. He went back to the +beach. There he caught himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp +exclamation from his lips. + +His canoe and outfit were gone! + +Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter as +Yellow Bird ran to her tepee. + +And from the mist of water--far out--came a voice, the voice of Jolly +Roger McKay. + +“Goodby, Cassidy!” + +With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog. + +In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy head +close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up +thankfully to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the +spirits had whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still +farther away, her straining ears heard again the cry, + +“Goodby, Cassidy!” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In Cassidy's canoe, driving himself with steady strokes deeper into the +mystery of the starlit waters of Wollaston, Jolly Roger felt the night +suddenly filled with an exhilarating tonic. Its deadness was gone. Its +weight had lifted. A ripple broke the star gleams where an increasing +breeze touched the surface of the lake. And the thrill of adventure +stirred in his blood. He laughed as he put his skill and strength in +the sweep of his paddle, and for a time the thought that he was an +outlaw, and in losing Nada had lost everything in life worth righting +for, was not so oppressive. It was the old, joyous laugh, stirred by +his sense of humor, and the trick he had played on Cassidy. He could +imagine Cassidy back on the shore, his temper redder than his hair as +he cursed and tore up the sand in his search for another canoe. + +“We're inseparable,” Jolly Roger explained to Peter. “Wherever I go, +Cassidy is sure to follow. You see, it's this way. A long time ago +someone gave Cassidy what they call an assignment, and in that +assignment it says 'go get Jolly Roger McKay, dead or alive'--or +something to that effect. And Cassidy has been on the job ever since. +But he can't quite catch up with me, Pied-Bot. I'm always a little +ahead.” + +And yet, even as he laughed, there was in Jolly Roger's heart a +yearning to which he had never given voice. Half a dozen times he might +have killed Cassidy, and an equal number of times Cassidy might have +killed him. But neither had taken advantage of the opportunity to +destroy. They had played the long and thrilling game like men, and +because of the fairness and sportsmanship of the man who hunted him +Jolly Roger thought of Cassidy as he might have thought of a brother, +and more than once he yearned to go to him, and hold out his hand in +friendship. Yet he knew Corporal Cassidy was the deadliest menace the +earth held for him, a menace that had followed him like a shadow +through months and years--across the Barren Lands, along the rim of the +Arctic, down the Mackenzie, and back again--a menace that never tired, +and was never far behind in that ten thousand miles of wilderness they +had covered. Together in the bloodstirring game of One against One they +had faced the deadliest perils of the northland. They had gone hungry, +and cold, and more than once a thousand miles of nothingness lay behind +them, and death seemed preferable to anything that might lie ahead. Yet +in that aloneness, when companionship was more precious than anything +else on earth, neither had cried quits. The game had gone on, Cassidy +after his man--and Jolly Roger McKay fighting for his freedom. + +As he headed his canoe north and east, Jolly Roger thought again of the +wager made weeks ago down at Cragg's Ridge, when he had turned the +tables on Cassidy and when Cassidy had made a solemn oath to resign +from the service if he failed to get his man in their next encounter. +He knew Cassidy would keep his word, and something told him that +tonight the last act in this tragedy of two had begun. He chuckled +again as he pictured the probable course of events on shore. Cassidy, +backed by the law, was demanding another canoe and a necessary outfit +of Slim Buck. Slim Buck, falling back on his tribal dignity, was +killing all possible time in making the preparations. When pursuit was +resumed Jolly Roger would have at least a mile the start of the +red-headed nemesis who hung to his trail. And Wollaston Lake, sixty +miles from end to end, and half as wide, offered plenty of room in +which to find safety. + +The rising of the wind, which came from the south and west, was +pleasing to Jolly Roger, and he put less caution and more force into +the sweep of his paddle. For two hours he kept steadily eastward, and +then swung a little north, guiding himself by the stars. With the +breaking of dawn he made out the thickly wooded shore on the opposite +side of the lake from Slim Buck's camp, and before the sun was half an +hour high he had drawn up his canoe at the tip of a headland which gave +him a splendid view of the lake in all directions. + +From this point, comfortably encamped in the cool shadows of a thick +clump of spruce, Jolly Roger and Peter watched all that day for a sign +of their enemy. As far as the eye could reach no movement of human life +appeared on the quiet surface of Wollaston. Not until that hazy hour +between sunset and dusk did he build a fire and cook a meal from the +supplies in Cassidy's pack, for he knew smoke could be discerned much +farther than a canoe. Yet even as he observed this caution he was +confident there was no longer any danger in returning to Yellow Bird +and her people. + +“You see, Pied-Bot,” he said, discussing the matter with Peter, while +he smoked a pipeful of tobacco in the early evening, “Cassidy thinks +we're on our way north, as fast as we can go. He'll hit for the upper +end of the Lake and the Black River waterway, and keep right on into +the Porcupine country. It's a big country up there, and we've always +taken plenty of space for our travels. Shall we go back to Yellow Bird, +Peter? And Sun Cloud?” + +Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked the +questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He wanted to +go back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged by a great +loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his loss of Nada, and +understood how empty life had become for him. She had, in a way, become +a part of Nada; her presence raised him out of despair, her voice gave +him hope, her unconquerable spirit--fighting for his +happiness--inspired him until he saw light where there had been only +darkness. The impelling desire to return to her brought him to his feet +and down to the pebbly shore of the lake, where the water rippled +softly in the thickening gloom. But a still more powerful force held +him back, and he went to his blankets, spread over a thick couch of +balsam boughs. For hours his eyes were wide open and sleepless. + +He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt--a +charitable inclination to half believe--gave way in him to a conviction +which he could not fight down. More than once in his years of +wilderness life strange facts had compelled him to give some credence +to the power of the Indian conjurer. Belief in the mastery of the mind +was part of his faith in nature. It had come to him from his mother, +who had lived and died in the strength of her creed. + +“Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true,” she +had told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it possible +she had told him the truth? Had her mind actually communed with the +mind of Nada? Had she, through the sheer force of her illimitable +faith, projected her subconscious self into the future that she might +show him the way? His eyes were staring, his ears unhearing, as he +thought of the proof which Yellow Bird had given to him. A few hours +ago she had brought him warning of impending danger. There had been no +hesitation and no doubt. She had come to him unequivocal and sure. +Without seeing, without hearing, she knew Cassidy was stealing upon him +through the night. + +In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. Without +effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, Yellow Bird had +given him a test of her power. It had been a spontaneous and unstaged +thing, a woman's heart reaching out for him--as she had promised that +it would. And yet, even as the simplicity and truth of it pressed upon +him, doubt followed with its questions. If, after this, Yellow Bird had +told him to return to Nada as swiftly as he could, he would have +believed, and this night would have seen him on his way. But she had +warned him against this, predicting desolation and grief if he +returned. She had urged him to go on, somewhere, anywhere, seeking for +an illusion and an unreality which the spirits had named, to her as the +Country Beyond. And when he reached this Country Beyond, wherever it +might be, he would possess Nada again, and happiness for all time. +After all, there was something archaically crude in what he was trying +to believe, when he came to analyze it. Yellow Bird possessed her +powers, but they were definitely limited. And to believe beyond those +limitations, to ride upon the wings of superstition and imagination, +was sheer savagery. + +Jolly Roger stretched himself upon his blankets again, repeating this +final argument to himself. But as the night drew closer about him, and +his eyes closed, and sleep came, there was a lightness in his heart +which he had not known for many days. He dreamed, and his dream was of +Nada. He was with her again and it seemed, in this dream, that Yellow +Bird was always watching them, and they could not quite get away from +her. They ran through the jackpine openings where the strawberries and +blue violets grew, and he always ran behind Nada, so he could see her +brown curls flying about her. + +But they never could rid themselves of Yellow Bird, no matter how fast +they ran or where they tried to hide. From somewhere Yellow Bird's dark +eyes would look out at them, and finally, laughing at his own +discomfiture, he drew Nada down beside him in a little fen, white and +yellow and blue with wildflowers, and boldly took her head in his arms +and kissed her--with Yellow Bird looking at them from behind a banksian +clump twenty feet away. So real was the kiss, and so real the warm +pressure of Nada's slim arms about his neck that he awoke with a glad +cry--and sat up to find the dawn had come. + +For a few moments he sat stupidly, looking about him as if not quite +believing the unreality of it all. Then with Peter he went down to the +edge of the lake. + +All that day Peter sensed a quiet change in his master. Jolly Roger did +not talk. He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly when he moved +at all, with a set, strange look in his face. He was making his last +big fight against the desire to return to Cragg's Ridge. Yellow Bird's +predictions, and her warning, had no influence with him now. He was +thinking of Nada alone. She was back there, waiting for him, praying +for his return, ready and happy to become a fugitive with him--to +accept her chances of life or death, of happiness or grief, in his +company. A dozen times the determination to return for her almost won. +But each time came the other picture--a vision of ceaseless flight, of +hiding, of hunger and cold and never ending hardship, and at the last, +inevitable as the dawning of another day--prison, and possibly the +hangman. + +Not until late that afternoon did Peter see the old Jolly Roger in the +face of his master. And Jolly Roger said: + +“We've made up our mind, Pied-Bot. We can't go back. We'll hit north +and spend the winter along the edge of the Barren Lands. It's the +biggest country I know of, and if Cassidy comes--” + +He shrugged his shoulders grimly. + +In half an hour they had started, with the sun beginning to sink in the +west. + +For two days Jolly Roger and Peter paddled their way slowly up the +eastern shore of Wollaston. That he had correctly analyzed the mental +arguments which would guide Cassidy in his pursuit Jolly Roger had +little doubt. He would keep to the west shore, and up through the +Hatchet Lake and Black River waterways, as his quarry had never failed +to hit straight for the farther north in time of peril. Meanwhile Jolly +Roger had decided to make his way without haste up the east shore of +Wollaston, and paddle north and east through the Du Brochet and +Thiewiaza River waterways. If these courses were followed, each hour +would add to the distance between them, and when the way was safe they +would head straight for the Barren Lands. + +Peter, and only Peter, sensed the glory of that third afternoon when +they paddled slowly ashore close to the shimmering stream of spring +water that was called Limping Moose Creek. The sun was still two hours +high in the west. There was no wind, and Wollaston was like a mirror; +yet in the still air was the clean, cool tang of early autumn, and +shoreward the world reached out in ridges and billows of tinted +forests, with a September haze pulsing softly over them, fleecy as the +misty shower of a lady's powder puff. It was destined to be a memorable +afternoon for Peter, a going down of the sun that he would never forget +as long as he lived. + +Yet there was no warning of the thing impending, and his eyes saw only +the mystery and wonder of the big world, and his ears heard only the +drowsing murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet scents of +cedars and balsams and of flowering and ripening things. Straight +ahead, beyond the white shore line, was a low ridge, and this +ridge--where it was not purple and black with the evergreen--was red +with the crimson blotches of mountain-ash berries, and patches of fire +flowers that glowed like flame in the setting sun. + +From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly the +voice and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A big jay was +screeching over it all, and between the first ridge and the +second--which rose still higher beyond it--a cloud of crows were +circling excitedly over a mother black bear and her half grown cubs as +they feasted on the red ash berries. But Peter could not smell the +bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows were of less interest than +the wonder and mystery of the shore close at hand. + +He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his +master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes. +The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to +Peter. Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a +chaos of loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams. +Love of life was gone out of him. He saw no beauty. The sun had +changed. The sky was different. The bigness of his wilderness no longer +thrilled him, but oppressed him. + +Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the +reason for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so Jolly +Roger had changed for Peter. + +They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter jumped +out. A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the shore ahead of +him. He perked up his angular ears, and then his nose caught a fresh +scent under his feet where a porcupine had left his trail. And he heard +more clearly the raucous tumult of the jay and the musical chattering +of the red squirrels. + +All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and life +thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days ago. He +adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green willows and +the young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers that fringed the +beginning of the forest. It had rained recently here, and the scents +were fresh and sweet. + +He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its luscious black +berries, and began nibbling at them. A gopher, coming to his supper +bush, gave a little squeak of annoyance, and Peter saw the bright eyes +of the midget glaring at him from under a big fern leaf. Peter wagged +his tail, for the savagery of his existence was qualified by that +mellowing sense of humor which had always been a part of his master. He +yipped softly, in a companionable sort of way. + +And then there smote upon his ears a sound which hardened every muscle +in his body. + +“Throw up your hands, McKay!” + +He turned his head. Close to him stood a man. In an instant he had +recognized him. It was the man whose scent he had first discovered down +at Cragg's Ridge, the man from whom his master was always running away, +the man whose voice he had heard again at Yellow Bird's Camp a few +nights ago--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police. + +Twenty paces away stood McKay. His dunnage was on his back, his paddle +in his hand. And Cassidy, smiling grimly, a dangerous humor in his +eyes, was leveling an automatic at his breast. It was, in that instant, +a tableau which no man could ever forget. Cassidy was bareheaded, and +the sun burned hotly in his red hair. And his face was red, and in the +pale blue of his Irish eyes was a fierce joy of achievement. At last, +after months and years, the thrilling game of One against One was at an +end. Cassidy had made the last move, and he was winner. + +For half a minute after the command to throw up his hands McKay did not +move. And Cassidy did not repeat the command, for he sensed the shock +that had fallen upon his adversary, and was charitable enough to give +him time. And then, with something like a deep sigh from between his +lips, Jolly Roger's body sagged. The dunnage dropped from his shoulder +to the sand. The paddle slipped from his hand. Slowly he raised his +arms above his head, and Cassidy laughed softly. + +A few days ago McKay would have grinned back, coolly, good humoredly, +appreciative of the other's craftsmanship even in the hour of his +defeat. But today there was another soul within him. + +His eyes no longer saw the old Cassidy, brave and loyal to his duty, a +chivalrous enemy, the man he had yearned to love as brother loves +brother, even in the hours of sharpest pursuit. In Cassidy he saw now +the hangman himself. The whole world had turned against him, and in +this hour of his greatest despair and hopelessness a bitter fate had +turned up Cassidy to deal him the finishing blow. + +A swift rage burned in him, even as he raised his hands. It swept +through his brain in a blinding inundation. He did not think of the +law, or of death, or of freedom. It was the unfairness of the thing +that filled his soul with the blackness of one last terrible desire for +vengeance. Cassidy's gun, leveled at his breast, meant nothing. A +thousand guns leveled at his breast would have meant nothing. A choking +sound came from his lips, and like a shot his right hand went to his +revolver holster. + +In that last second or two Cassidy had foreseen the impending thing, +and with the movement of the other's hand he cried out: + +“Stop! For God's sake stop--or I shall fire!” + +Even into the soul of Peter there came in that moment the electrical +thrill of something terrific about to happen, of impending death, of +tragedy close at hand. Once, a long time ago, Peter had felt another +moment such as this--when he had buried his fangs in Jed Hawkins' leg +to save Nada. + +In that fraction of a second which carried Peter through space, +Corporal Cassidy's finger was pressing the trigger of his automatic, +for McKay's gun was half out of its holster. He was aiming at the +other's shoulder, somewhere not to kill. + +The shock of Peter's assault came simultaneously with the explosion of +his gun, and McKay heard the hissing spit of the bullet past his ear. +His arm darted out. And as Peter buried his teeth deeper into Cassidy's +leg, he heard a second shot, and knew that it came from his master. +There was no third. Cassidy drooped, and something like a little laugh +came from him--only it was not a laugh. His body sagged, and then +crumpled down, so that the weight of him fell upon Peter. + +For many seconds after that Jolly Roger stood with his gun in his hand, +not a muscle of his body moving, and with something like stupor in his +staring eyes. Peter struggled out from under Cassidy, and looked +inquisitively from his master to the man who lay sprawled out like a +great spider upon the sand. It was then that life seemed to come back +into Jolly Roger's body. His gun fell, as if it was the last thing in +the world to count for anything now, and with a choking cry he ran to +Cassidy and dropped upon his knees beside him. + +“Cassidy--Cassidy--” he cried. “Good God, I didn't mean to do it! +Cassidy, old pal--” + +The agony in his voice stilled the growl in Peter's throat. McKay saw +nothing for a space, as he raised Cassidy's head and shoulders, and +brushed back the mop of red hair. Everything was a blur before his +eyes. He had killed Cassidy. He knew it. He had shot to kill, and not +once in a hundred times did he miss his mark. At last he was what the +law wanted him to be--a murderer. And his victim was Cassidy--the man +who had played him fairly and squarely from beginning to end, the man +who had never taken a mean advantage of him, and who had died there in +the white sand because he had not shot to kill. With sobbing breath he +cried out his grief, and then, looking down, he saw the miracle in +Cassidy's face. The Irishman's eyes were wide open, and there was pain, +and also a grin, about his mouth. + +“I'm glad you're sorry,” he said. “I'd hate to have a bad opinion of +you, McKay. But--you're a rotten shot!” + +His body sagged heavily, and the grin slowly left his lips, and a moan +came from between them. He struggled and spoke. + +“It may be--you'll want help, McKay. If you do--there's a cabin half a +mile up the creek. Saw the smoke--heard axe--I don't blame you. You're +a good sport--pretty quick--but--rotten shot! Oh, +Lord--such--rotten--shot--” + +And he tried vainly to grin up into Jolly Roger's face as he became a +lifeless weight in the other's arms. + +Jolly Roger was sobbing. He was sobbing, in a strange, hard +man-fashion, as he tore open Cassidy's shirt and saw the red wound that +went clean through Cassidy's right breast just under the shoulder. And +Peter still heard that strange sound coming from his lips, a moaning as +if for breath, as his master ran and brought up water, and worked over +the fallen man. And then he got under Cassidy, and rose up with him on +his shoulders, and staggered off with him toward the creek. There he +found a path, a narrow foot trail, and not once did he stop with his +burden until he came into a little clearing, out of which Cassidy had +seen the smoke rising. In this clearing was a cabin, and from the cabin +came an old man to meet him--an old man and a girl. + +At first something shot up into Peter's throat, for he thought it was +Nada who came behind the grizzled and white-headed man. There was the +same lithe slimness in her body, the same brown glint in her hair, and +the same--but he saw then that it was not Nada. She was older. She was +a bit taller. And her face was white when she saw the bleeding burden +on Jolly Roger's back. + +“I shot him,” panted McKay. “God knows I didn't mean to! I'm afraid--” + +He did not finish giving voice to the fear that Cassidy was dead--or +dying, and for a moment he saw only the big staring eyes of the girl as +the gray-bearded man helped him with his burden. Not until the Irishman +was on a cot in the cabin did he discover how childishly weak he had +become and what a terrific struggle he had made with the weight on his +shoulders. He sank into a chair, while the old trapper worked over +Cassidy. + +He heard the girl call him grandfather. She was no longer frightened, +and she moved like a swift bird about the cabin, getting water and +bandages and pillows, and the sight of fresh blood and of Cassidy's +dead-white face brought a glow of tenderness into her eyes. McKay, +sitting dumbly, saw that her hands were doing twice the work his own +could have accomplished, and not until he heard a low moan from the +wounded man did he come to her side. + +“The bullet went through clean as a whistle,” the old man said. “Lucky +you don't use soft nosed bullets, friend.” + +A deep sigh came from Cassidy's lips. His eyelids fluttered, and then +slowly his eyes opened. The girl was bending over him, and Cassidy saw +only her face, and the brown sheen of her hair. + +“He'll live?” Jolly Roger said tremulously. + +The older man remained mute. It was Cassidy, turning his head a little, +who answered weakly. + +“Don't worry, McKay. I'll--live.” + +Jolly Roger bent over the cot, between Cassidy and the girl. Gently he +took one of the wounded man's hands in both his own. + +“I'm sorry, old man,” he whispered. “You won, fair and square. And I +won't go far away. I'll be waiting for you when you get on your feet. I +promise that. I'll wait.” + +A wan smile came over Cassidy's lips, and then he moaned again, and his +eyes closed. The girl thrust Jolly Roger back. + +“No--you better not go far, an' you better wait,” she said, and there +was an unspoken thing in the dark glow of her eyes that made him think +of Nada on that day when she told him how Jed Hawkins had struck her in +the cabin at Cragg's Ridge. + +That night Jolly Roger made his camp close to the mouth of the Limping +Moose. And for three days thereafter his trail led only between this +camp and the cabin of old Robert Baron and his granddaughter, Giselle. +All this time Cassidy was telling things in a fever. He talked a great +deal about Jolly Roger. And the girl, nursing him night and day, with +scarcely a wink of sleep between, came to believe they had been great +comrades, and had been inseparable for a long time. Even then she would +not let McKay take her place at Cassidy's side. The third day she +started him off for a post sixty miles away to get a fresh supply of +bandages and medicines. + +It was evening, three days later, when Jolly Roger and Peter returned. +The windows of the cabin were brightly lighted, and McKay came up to +one of these windows and looked in. Cassidy was bolstered up in his +cot. He was very much alive, and on the floor at his side, sitting on a +bear rug, was the girl. A lump rose in Jolly Roger's throat. Quietly he +placed the bundle which he had brought from the post close up against +the door, and knocked. When Giselle opened it he had disappeared into +darkness, with Peter at his heels. + +The next morning he found old Robert and said to him: + +“I'm restless, and I'm going to move a little. I'll be back in two +weeks. Tell Cassidy that, will you?” + +Ten minutes later he was paddling up the shore of Wollaston, and for a +week thereafter he haunted the creeks and inlets, always on the move. +Peter saw him growing thinner each day. There was less and less of +cheer in his voice, seldom a smile on his lips, and never did his laugh +ring out as of old. Peter tried to understand, and Jolly Roger talked +to him, but not in the old happy way. + +“We might have finished him, an' got rid of him for good,” he said to +Peter one chilly night beside their campfire. “But we couldn't, just +like we couldn't have brought Nada up here with us. And we're going +back. I'm going to keep that promise. We're going back, Peter, if we +hang for it!” + +And Jolly Roger's jaw would set grimly as he measured the time between. + +The tenth day came and he set out for the mouth of the Canoe River. On +the afternoon of the twelfth he paddled slowly into Limping Moose +Creek. Without any reason he looked at his watch when he started for +old Robert's cabin. It was four o'clock. He was two days ahead of his +promise, and there was a bit of satisfaction in that. There was an odd +thumping at his heart. He had faith in Cassidy, a belief that the +Irishman would call their affair a draw, and tell him to take another +chance in the big open. He was the sort of man to live up to the letter +of a wager, when it was honestly made. But, if he didn't-- + +Jolly Roger paused long enough to take the cartridges from his gun. +There would be no more shooting'--on his part. + +The mellow autumn sun was flooding the open door of the cabin when he +came up. He heard laughter. It was Giselle. She was talking, too. And +then he heard a man's voice--and from far off to his right came the +chopping of an axe. Old Robert was at work. Giselle and Cassidy were at +home. + +He stepped up to the door, coughing to give notice of his approach. And +then, suddenly, he stopped, staring thunderstruck at what was happening +within. + +Terence Cassidy was sitting in a big chair. The girl was behind him. +Her white arms were around his neck, her face was bent down, her lips +were kissing him. + +In an instant Cassidy's eyes had caught him. + +“Come in,” he cried, so suddenly and so loudly that it startled the +girl. “McKay, come in!” + +Jolly Roger entered, and the girl stood up straight behind Cassidy's +chair, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with the glow of the +sunset. And Terence Cassidy was grinning in that old triumphant way as +he leaned forward in his chair, gripping the arms of it with both hands. + +“McKay, you've lost,” he cried. “I'm the winner!” + +In the same moment he took the girl's hand and drew her from behind his +chair. + +“Giselle, do as you said you were going to do. Prove to him that I've +won.” + +Slowly she came to Jolly Roger. Her cheeks were like the red of the +sunset. Her eyes were flaming. Her lips were parted. And dumbly he +waited, and wondered, until she stood close to him. Then, swiftly, her +arms were around his neck, and she kissed him. In an instant she was +back on her knees at the wounded man's side, her burning face hidden +against him, and Cassidy was laughing, and holding out both hands to +McKay. + +“McKay, Roger McKay, I want you to meet Mrs. Terence Cassidy, my wife,” + he said. And the girl raised her face, so that her shining eyes were on +Jolly Roger. + +Still dumbly he stood where he was. + +“The Missioner from Du Brochet was here yesterday, and married us,” he +heard Cassidy saying. “And we've written out my resignation together, +old man. We've both won. I thank God you put that bullet into me down +on the shore, for it's brought me paradise. And here's my hand on it, +McKay--forever and ever!” + +Half an hour later, when McKay stumbled out into the forest trail +again, his eyes were blinded by tears and his heart choked by a new +hope as big as the world itself. Yellow Bird was right, and God must +have been with her that night when her soul went to commune with +Nada's. For Yellow Bird had proved herself again. And now he believed +her. + +He believed in the world again. He believed in love and happiness and +the glory of life, and as he went down the narrow trail to his canoe, +with Peter close behind him, his heart was crying out Nada's name and +Yellow Bird's promise that sometime--somewhere--they two would find +happiness together, as Giselle and Terence Cassidy had found it. + +And Peter heard the chopping of the distant axe, and the song of birds, +and the chattering of squirrels--but thrilling his soul most of all was +the voice of his master, the old voice, the glad voice, the voice he +had first learned to love at Cragg's Ridge in the days of blue violets +and red strawberries, when Nada had filled his world. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +McKay still had his mind on a certain stretch of timber that reached +out into the Barren Lands, hundreds of miles farther north. In this +hiding place, three years before, he had built himself a cabin, and had +caught foxes during half the long winter. Not only the cabin, but the +foxes, were drawing him. Necessity was close upon his heels. What +little money he possessed after leaving Cragg's Ridge was exhausted, +his supplies were gone, and his boots and clothes were patched with +deer hide. + +In the Snowbird Lake country, a week after he left Cassidy in his +paradise at Wollaston, he fell in with good fortune. Two trappers had +come in from Churchill. One of them was sick, and the other needed help +in the building of their winter cabin. McKay remained with them for ten +days, and when he continued his journey northward his pack was stuffed +with supplies, and he wore new boots and more comfortable clothes. + +It was the middle of October when he found his old cabin, a thousand +miles from Cragg's Ridge. It was as he had left it three years ago. No +one had opened its door since then. The little box stove was waiting +for a fire. Behind it was a pile of wood. On the table were the old tin +dishes, and hanging from babiche cords fastened to the roof timbers, +out of reach of mice and ermine, were blankets and clothing and other +possessions he had left behind him in that winter break-up of what +seemed like ages ago to him. He raised a small section in the floor, +and there were his traps, thickly coated with caribou grease. For half +an hour before he built a fire he sought eagerly for the things he had +concealed here and there. He found oil, and a tin lamp, and candles, +and as darkness of the first night gathered outside a roaring fire sent +sparks up the chimney, and the little cabin's one window glowed with +light, and the battered old coffee pot bubbled and steamed again, as if +rejoicing at his return. + +With the breaking of another day he immediately began preparations for +the season's trapping. In two days' hunting he killed three caribou, +his winter meat. Then he cut wood, and made his strychnine poison +baits, and marked out his trap-lines. + +The first of November brought the chill whisperings of an early winter +through the Northland. Farther south autumn was dying, or dead. The +last of the red ash berries hung shriveled and frost-bitten on naked +twigs, freezing nights were nipping the face of the earth, the voices +of the wilderness were filled with a new note and the winds held +warning for every man and beast between Hudson's Bay and the Great +Slave and from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. Seven years before +there had come such a winter, and the land had not forgotten it--a +winter sudden and swift, deadly in its unexpectedness, terrific in its +cold, bringing with it such famine and death as the Northland had not +known for two generations. + +But this year there was premonition. Omen of it came with the first +wailing night winds that bore the smell of icebergs from over the black +forests north and west. The moon came up red, and it went down red, and +the sun came up red in the morning. The loon's call died a month ahead +of its time. The wild geese drove steadily south when they should have +been feeding from the Kogatuk to Baffin's Bay, and the beaver built his +walls thick, and anchored his alders and his willows deep so that he +would not starve when the ice grew heavy. East, west, north and south, +in forest and swamp, in the trapper's cabin and the wolf's +hiding-place, was warning of it. Gray rabbits turned white. Moose and +caribou began to herd. The foxes yipped shrilly in the night, and a new +hunger and a new thrill sent the wolves hunting in packs, while the +gray geese streaked southward under the red moon overhead. + +Through this November, and all of December, Jolly Roger and Peter were +busy from two hours before dawn of each day until late at night. The +foxes were plentiful, and McKay was compelled to shorten his lines and +put out fewer baits, and on the tenth of December he set out for a +fur-trading post ninety miles south with two hundred and forty skins. +He had made a toboggan, and a harness for Peter, and pulling together +they made the trip in three days, and on the fourth started for the +cabin again with supplies and something over a thousand dollars in cash. + +Through the weeks of increasing storm and cold that followed, McKay +continued to trap, and early in February he made another trip to the +fur post. + +It was on their return that they were caught in the Black Storm. It +will be a long time before the northland will forget that storm. It was +a storm in which the Sarcees died to a man, woman and child over on the +Dubawnt waterways, and when trees froze solid and split open with the +sharp explosions of high-power guns. In it, all furred and feathered +life and all hoof and horn along the edge of the Barren Lands from +Aberdeen Lake to the Coppermine was swallowed up. It was in this storm +that streams froze solid, and the man who was cautious fastened a +babiche rope about his waist when he went forth from his cabin for wood +or water, so that his wife might help to pull and guide him back +through that blinding avalanche of wind and freezing fury that held a +twisted and broken world in its grip. + +In the country west of Artillery Lake and south of the Theolon River, +Jolly Roger and Peter were compelled to “dig in.” They were in a +country where the biggest stick of wood that thrust itself up out of +the snow was no bigger than McKay's thumb; a country of green grass and +succulent moss on which the caribou fed in season, but a hell on earth +when arctic storm howled and screamed across it in winter. + +Piled up against a mass of rock Jolly Roger found a huge snow drift. +This drift was as long as a church and half as high, with its outer +shell blistered and battered to the hardness of rock by wind and sleet. +Through this shell he cut a small door with his knife, and after that +dug out the soft snow from within until he had a room half as big as +his cabin, and so snug and warm after a little with the body heat of +himself and Peter that he could throw off the thick coat which he wore. + +To Peter, in the first night of this storm, it seemed as though all the +people in the world were shrieking and wailing and sobbing in the +blackness outside. Jolly Roger sat smoking his pipe at intervals in the +gloom, though there was little pleasure in smoking a pipe in darkness. +The storm did not oppress him, but filled him with an odd sense of +security and comfort. The wind shrieked and lashed itself about his +snow-dune, but it could not get at him. Its mightiest efforts to +destroy only beat more snow upon him, and made him safer and warmer. In +a way, there was something of humor as well as tragedy in its wild +frenzy, and Peter heard him laugh softly in the darkness. More and more +frequently he had heard that laugh since those warm days of autumn when +they had last met the red-headed man, Terence Cassidy, of the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police, and his master had shot him on the white +shore of Wollaston. + +“You see,” said McKay, caressing Peter's hairy neck in the gloom. +“Everything is turning out right for us, and I'm beginning to believe +more and more what Yellow Bird told us, and that in the end we're going +to be happy--somewhere--with Nada. What do you think, Pied-Bot? Shall +we take a chance, and go back to Cragg's Ridge in the spring?” + +Peter wriggled himself in answer, as a wild shriek of wind wailed over +the huge snow-dune. + +Jolly Roger's fingers tightened at Peter's neck. + +“Well, we're going,” he said, as though he was telling Peter something +new. “I'm believing Yellow Bird, Pied-Bot. I'm believing her--now. What +she told us was more than fortune-telling. It wasn't just Indian +sorcery. When she shut herself up and starved for those three days and +nights in her little conjurer's house, just for you and me--SOMETHING +HAPPENED. Didn't it? Wouldn't you say something happened?” + +Peter swallowed and his teeth clicked as he gave evidence of +understanding. + +“She told us a lot of truth,” went on Jolly Roger, with deep faith in +his voice “And we must believe, Pied-Bot. She told us Cassidy was +coming after us, and he came. She said the spirits promised her the law +would never get us, and we thought it looked bad when Cassidy had us +covered with his gun on the shore at Wollaston. But something more than +luck was with us, and we shot him. Then we brought him back to life and +lugged him to a cabin, and the little stranger girl took him, and +nursed him, and Cassidy fell in love with her--and married her. So +Yellow Bird was right again, Pied-Bot. We've got to believe her. And +she says everything is coming out right for us, and that we are going +back to Nada, and be happy--” + +Jolly Roger's pipe-bowl glowed in the blackness. + +“I'm going to light the alcohol lamp,” he said. “We can't sleep. And I +want a good smoke. It isn't fun when you can't see the smoke. Too bad +God forgot to make you so you could use a pipe, Peter. You don't know +what you are missing--in times like these.” + +He fumbled in his pack and found the alcohol lamp, which was fresh +filled and screwed tight. Peter heard him working for a moment in the +darkness. Then he struck a match, and the yellow flare of it lighted up +his face. In his joy Peter whined. It was good to see his master. And +then, in another moment, the little lamp was filling their white-walled +refuge with a mellow glow. Jolly Roger's eyes, coming suddenly out of +darkness, were wide and staring. His face was covered with a scrub +beard. But there was something of cheer about him even in this night of +terror outside, and when he had driven his snowshoe into the snow wall, +and had placed the lamp on it, he grinned companionably at Peter. + +Then, with a deep breath of satisfaction, he puffed out clouds of smoke +from his pipe, and stood up to look about their room. + +“Not so bad, is it?” he asked. “We could have a big house here if we +wanted to dig out rooms--eh, Peter? Parlors, and bed-rooms, and a +library--and not a policeman within a million miles of us. That's the +nice part of it, PIED-BOT--none of the Royal Mounties to trouble us. +They would never think of looking for us in the heart of a big +snow-dune out in this God-forsaken barren, would they?” + +The thought was a pleasing one to Jolly Roger. He spread out his +blankets on the snow floor, and sat down on them, facing Peter. + +“We've got 'em beat,” he said, a chuckling note of pride in his voice. +“The world is small when it comes to hiding, Pied-Bot, but all the +people in it couldn't find us here--not in a million years. If we could +only find a place as safe as this--where a girl could live--and had +Nada with us--” + +Many times during the past few weeks Peter had seen the light that +flamed up now in his master's eyes. That, and the strange thrill in +Jolly Roger's voice, stirred him more than the words to which he +listened, and tried to understand. + +“And we're GOING to,” finished McKay, almost fiercely, his hands +clenching as he leaned toward Peter. “We have made a big mistake, +Pied-Bot, and it has taken us a long time to see it. It will be hard +for us to leave our north country, but that is what we must do. Maybe +Yellow Bird's good spirits meant that when they said we would find +happiness with Nada in a place called The Country Beyond. There are a +lot of 'Countries Beyond,' Peter, and as soon as the spring break-up +comes and we can travel without leaving trails behind us we will go +back to Cragg's Ridge and get Nada, and hit for some place where the +law won't expect to find us. There's China, for instance. A lot of +yellow people. But what do we care for color as long as we have her +with us? I say--” + +Suddenly he stopped. And Peter's body grew tense. Both faced the round +hole, half filled with softly packed snow, which McKay had cut as a +door into the heart of the big drift. They had grown accustomed to the +tumult of the storm. Its strange wailings and the shrieking voices +which at times seemed borne in the moaning sweep of it no longer sent +shivers of apprehension through Peter. But in that moment when both +turned to listen there came a sound which was not like the other sounds +they had heard. It was a voice--not one of the phantom voices of the +screaming wind, but a voice so real and so near that for a beat or two +even Jolly Roger McKay's heart stood still. It was as if a man, +standing just beyond their snow barricade, had shouted a name. But +there came no second call. The wind lulled, so that for a space there +was stillness outside. + +Jolly Roger laughed a little uneasily. + +“Good thing we don't believe in ghosts, Peter, or we would swear it was +a Loup-Garou smelling us through the wall!” He thumbed the tobacco down +in his pine, and nodded. “Then--there is South America,” he said. “They +have everything down there--the biggest rivers in the world, the +biggest mountains, and so much room that even a Loup-Garou couldn't +hunt us out. She will love it, Pied-Bot. But if it happens she likes +Africa better, or Australia, or the South Sea--Now, what the devil was +that?” + +Peter had jumped as if stung, and for a moment Jolly Roger sat tense as +a carven Indian. Then he rose to his feet, a look of perplexity and +doubt in his eyes. + +“What was it, Peter? Can the wind shoot a gun--like THAT?” + +Peter was sniffing at the loosely blocked door of their snow-room. A +whimper rose in his throat. He looked up at Jolly Roger, his eyes +glowing fiercely through the mass of Airedale whiskers that covered his +face. He wanted to dig. He wanted to plunge out into the howling +darkness. Slowly McKay beat the ash out of his pipe and placed the pipe +in his pocket. + +“We'll take a look,” he said, something repressive in his voice. “But +it isn't reasonable, Peter. It is the wind. There couldn't be a man out +there, and it wasn't a rifle we heard. It is the wind--with the devil +himself behind it!” + +With a few sweeps of his hands and arms he scooped out the loose snow +from the hole. The opening was on the sheltered side of the drift, and +only the whirling eddies of the storm swept about him as he thrust out +his head and shoulders. But over him it was rushing like an avalanche. +He could hear nothing but the moaning advance of it. And he could see +nothing. He held out his hand before his face, and blackness swallowed +it. + +“We have been chased so much that we're what you might call +super-sensitive,” he said, pulling himself back and nodding at Peter in +the gray light of the alcohol lamp. “Guess we'd better turn in, boy. +This is a good place to sleep--plenty of fresh air, no mosquitoes or +black flies, and the police so far away that we will soon forget how +they look. If you say so we will have a nip of cold tea and a bite--” + +He did not finish. For a moment the wind had lessened in fury, as if +gathering a deeper breath. And what he heard drew a cry from him this +time, and a sharper whine from Peter. Out of the blackness of the night +had come a woman's voice! In that first instant of shock and amazement +he would have staked his life that what he heard was not a mad outcry +of the night or an illusion of his brain. It was clear--distinct--a +woman's voice coming from out on the Barren, rising above the storm in +an agony of appeal, and dying out quickly until it became a part of the +moaning wind. And then, with equal force, came the absurdity of it to +McKay. A woman! He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and +tried to laugh. A WOMAN--out in that storm--a thousand miles from +nowhere! It was inconceivable. + +The laugh which he forced from his lips was husky and unreal, and there +was a smothering grip of something at his heart. In the ghostly light +of the alcohol lamp his eyes were wide open and staring. + +He looked at Peter. The dog stood stiff-legged before the hole. His +body was trembling. + +“Peter!” + +With a responsive wag of his tail Peter turned his bristling face up to +his master. Many times Jolly Roger had seen that unfailing warning in +his comrade's eyes. THERE WAS SOME ONE OUTSIDE--or Peter's brain, like +his own, was twisted and fooled by the storm! + +Against his reasoning--in the face of the absurdity of it--Jolly Roger +was urged into action. He changed the snowshoe and replaced the alcohol +lamp so that the glow of light could be seen more clearly from the +Barren. Then he went to the hole and crawled through. Peter followed +him. + +As if infuriated by their audacity, the storm lashed itself over the +top of the dune. They could hear the hissing whine of fine hard snow +tearing above their heads like volleys of shot, and the force of the +wind reached them even in their shelter, bringing with it the flinty +sting of the snow-dust. Beyond them the black barren was filled with a +dismal moaning. Looking up, and yet seeing nothing in the darkness, +Peter understood where the weird shriekings and ghostly cries came +from. It was the wind whipping itself up the side and over the top of +the dune. + +Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that mighty +force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again one of those +brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a moment, and its +moaning grew less and less, until it was like the sound of giant +chariot wheels receding swiftly over the face of the earth. Then came +the silence--a few seconds of it--while in the north gathered swiftly +the whispering rumble of a still greater force. + +And in this silence came once more a cry--a cry which Jolly Roger McKay +could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the report of a +rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a woman's voice. As +nearly as he could judge it came from dead ahead, out of the chaos of +blackness, and in that direction he shouted an answer. Then he ran out +into the darkness, followed by Peter. Another avalanche of wind +gathered at their heels, driving them on like the crest of a flood. In +the first force of it Jolly Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and +in that moment he saw very faintly the glow of his light at the opening +in the snow dune. A realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of +the light flashed upon him. Again and again he called into the night. +After that, bowing his head in the fury of the storm, he plunged on +deeper into darkness. + +A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into +forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. In the +heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer doubted it. +And the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? Was it possible +she had followed him after his flight, determined to find him, and +share his fate? His heart pounded. Who else, of all the women in the +world, could be following his trail across the Barrens--a thousand +miles from civilization? He began to shout her name. +“Nada--Nada--Nada!” And hidden in the gloom at his side Peter barked. + +Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the alcohol +lamp died out. Jolly Roger did not look back. Blindly he stumbled +ahead, counting his footsteps as he went, and shouting Nada's name. +Twice he thought he heard a reply, and each time the will-o'-the-wisp +voice seemed to be still farther ahead of him. Then, with a fiercer +blast of the wind beating upon his back, he stumbled and fell forward +upon his face. His hand reached out and touched the thing that had +tripped him. It was not snow. His naked fingers clutched in something +soft and furry. It was a man's coat. He could feel buttons, a belt, and +the sudden thrill of a bearded face. + +He stood up. The wind was wailing off over the Barren again, leaving an +instant of stillness about him. And he shouted: + +“Nada--Nada--Nada!” + +An answer came so quickly that it startled him, not one voice, but +two--three--and one of them the shrill agonized cry of a woman. They +came toward him as he continued to shout, until a few feet away he +could make out a gray blur moving through the gloom. He went to it, +staggering under the weight of the man he had found in the snow. The +blur was made up of two men dragging a sledge, and behind the sledge +was a third figure, moaning in the darkness. + +“I found some one in the snow,” Jolly Roger shouted. “Here he is--” + +He dropped his burden, and the last of his words were twisted by a +fresh blast of the storm. But the figure behind the sledge had heard, +and Jolly Roger saw her indistinctly at his feet, shielding the man he +had found with her arms and body, and crying out a name which he could +not understand in that howling of the wind. But a thing like cold steel +sank into his heart, and he knew it was not Nada he had found this +night on the Barren. He placed the unconscious man on the sledge, +believing he was dead. The girl was crying out something to him, +unintelligible in the storm, and one of the men shouted in a thick +throaty voice which he could not understand. Jolly Roger felt the +weight of him as he staggered in the wind, fighting to keep his feet, +and he knew he was ready to drop down in the snow and die. + +“It's only a step,” he shouted. “Can you make it?” + +His words reached the ears of the others. The girl swayed through the +darkness and gripped his arm. The two men began to tug at the sledge, +and Jolly Roger seized the rope between them, wondering why there were +no dogs, and faced the driving of the storm. It seemed an interminable +time before he saw the faint glow of the alcohol lamp. The last fifty +feet was like struggling against an irresistible hail from +machine-guns. Then came the shelter of the dune. + +One at a time McKay helped to drag them through the hole which he used +for a door. For a space his vision was blurred, and he saw through the +hazy film of storm-blindness the gray faces and heavily coated forms of +those he had rescued. The man he had found in the snow he placed on his +blankets, and the girl fell down upon her knees beside him. It was then +Jolly Roger began to see more clearly. And in that same instant came a +shock as unexpected as the smash of dynamite under his feet. + +The girl had thrown back her parkee, and was sobbing over the man on +the blankets, and calling him father. She was not like Nada. Her hair +was in thick, dark coils, and she was older. She was not pretty--now. +Her face was twisted by the brutal beating of the storm, and her eyes +were nearly closed. But it was the man Jolly Roger stared at, while his +heart choked inside him. He was grizzled and gray-bearded, with +military mustaches and a bald head. He was not dead. His eyes were +open, and his blue lips were struggling to speak to the girl whose +blindness kept her from seeing that he was alive. And the coat which he +wore was the regulation service garment of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police! + +Slowly McKay turned, wiping the film of snow-sweat from his eyes, and +stared at the other two. One of them had sunk down with his back to the +snow wall. He was a much younger man, possibly not over thirty, and his +face was ghastly. The third lay where he had fallen from exhaustion +after crawling through the hole. Both wore service coats, with holsters +at their sides. + +The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise. He sagged +back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay. + +“Dam' fine of you, old man,” he mumbled between blistered lips. “I'm +Porter--'N' Division--taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort +Churchill--Tavish and his daughter. Made a hell of a mess of it, +haven't I?” + +He struggled to his knees. + +“There's brandy in our kit. It might help--over there,” and he nodded +toward the girl and the gray-bearded man on the blankets. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found the +sledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, and he +saw Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the alcohol lamp, +where he waited to help him with the dunnage. In those seconds he +fought to get a grip on himself. A quarter of an hour ago he had +laughed at the thought of the law. Never had it seemed to be so far +away from him, and never had he been more utterly isolated from the +world. His mind was still a bit dazed by the thing that had happened. +The police had not trailed him. They had not ferreted him out, nor had +they stumbled upon him by accident. It was he who had gone out into the +night and deliberately dragged them in! Of all the trickery fate had +played upon him this was the least to be expected. + +His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the babiche +cordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. “N” Division, he +told himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. He had never +heard of Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the +outfit was evidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very +likely that Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, +and especially of Jolly Roger McKay. This was his one chance. To +attempt an escape through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard. +It was death. + +There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through +the hole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a flask of +liquor to the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at +him with eyes that were widening as the snow-sting left them. Tavish +gulped, and his mittened hand closed on the girl's arm. + +“I'm all right, Jo,” he mumbled. “All right--” + +His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug-out. +They were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. Jolly Roger +felt the intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl a swallow of the +brandy, and then passed the flask to Porter. + +“You have saved our lives,” said Tavish, in a voice that was clearer. +“I don't just understand how it happened. I remember stumbling in the +darkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind the sledge. Porter and +Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my daughter, was sheltered +under the blankets. After that--” + +He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. He +pointed to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted there was +someone outside, and they had taken a chance by going in search of +them. He was John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm had caught him +fifty miles from his cabin. He was traveling without a dog-sledge, and +had only a pack-outfit. + +Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening to +him. One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the +wilderness man of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a strange +sort of way. And then, as if catching himself, he nodded, and began +rubbing his frosted face with handfuls of snow. + +Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of the +dunnage sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than the +other two. Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes turned +to Jolly Roger. They were large, fine eyes, wide open and clear now. +There was something of splendid strength about her as she smiled at +McKay. She was not of the hysterical sort. He could see that. + +“If we could have some hot soup,” she suggested. “May we?” + +There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to express +in words. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind her, and +watched her as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed the cheeks of +the bearded man with snow. + +“There's an alcohol stove in the other pack,” said Breault, with his +hard, narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. “By the way, +what did you say your name was?” + +“Cummings--John Cummings.” + +Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger felt +stealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup and +ate bannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy fur garment +that enveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. Her eyes were +bright, and in her voice was a tremble of happiness at finding warmth +and life where she had expected death. Porter's friendliness was almost +brotherly. He explained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had +deserted them, stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams +and one of their sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a +drift into which they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth +as a table. They had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because +they expected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in +the storm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought, +that Superintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should +have given up the ghost so easily. + +Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with the +possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet +Jolly Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially +attentive. There was something repressive and mysterious about the man, +and the girl would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he +happened to speak, and the softness of her mouth would harden in an +instant. He understood the significance of her gladness, and of +Porter's, for twice he saw their hands come together, and their fingers +entwine. And in their eyes was something which they could not hide when +they looked at each other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know +that Breault was the best man-hunter in “N” Division, which reached +from Athabasca Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two +thousand-mile stretch of the Three River Country he was known as +Shingoos, the Ferret. + +The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's +shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and +breathed deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at +the pale face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay. + +“She's mine,” he whispered. “We're going to be married.” + +Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand. + +He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat. + +“I know how you feel,” he said. “When I heard her calling out there--it +made me think--of a girl down south.” + +“Down south?” queried Porter. “Why down south--if you care for her--and +you up here?” + +McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor +Porter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was +listening. + +Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the storm +had caught his attention. + +“We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm +going to dig out another room--for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll need +the convenience of a private room before we're able to move. It's an +easy job--and passes the time away.” + +“I'll help,” offered Porter. + +For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. During +that hour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile curled his +thin lips as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last Porter turned in, +and slept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished +his room, and was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door +out of the drift, when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which +Porter had used. + +“I'll take my turn,” he said. “I'm a bit nervous, and not at all +sleepy, Cummings.” He began digging into the snow. “Been long in this +country?” he asked. + +“Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a silver +and a black.” + +Breault grunted. + +“You must have met Cassidy, then,” he said casually, without looking at +McKay. “Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country.” + +Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging. + +“Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I like +him. You know him?” + +“Entered the service together,” said Breault. “But he's unlucky. For +two or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. Jolly +Roger, they call him--Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?” + +Jolly Roger nodded. + +“Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've +heard I--rather like him.” + +“Who--Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?” + +“Both.” + +For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. They +were mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining half +closed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKay +felt their penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him, +warning him of a menace deadlier than the storm. + +“Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?” + +“No.” + +“You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The +man lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that +information, will you?” + +Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel. + +“Yes, I will.” + +He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow slits +of Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox. + +“You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for sticking +up that free trader's post a few years ago.” + +Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of snow. + +“I'll tell him that, too,” he said, chuckling at the obviousness of the +other's trap. “What do you think my cabin is, Breault--a Rest for +Homeless Outlaws?” + +Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger caught it +over his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his load, Breault said: + +“You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the winter +somewhere up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south--” + +Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel. + +“--who would like to see him,” finished Breault. + +When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting his +pipe. + +“I remember--Cassidy told me about this girl,” said Jolly Roger. “He +said--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the girl. So if I +happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to the girl, it +will help out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is there any reward +tacked to it? Anything in it for me?” + +Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, +puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about his +thin lips. + +“Listen to the storm,” he said. “I think it's getting worse--Cummings!” + +Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his bright +eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger. + +“Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--” + +Tight ringers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spoken +Peter's name since the rescue of Breault. + +“Peter--Peter--” + +The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made no +response to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and +challenging. In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his arms. + +The Ferret laughed. + +“He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, and +I also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, if you +ever happen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, with +whiskers on him like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny name for a +dog, isn't it?” + +He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head. + +“I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And--Mother of +Heaven!--listen to the wind.” + +“Yes, it's a bad night,” said McKay. + +He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was beating +fast. He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over the Barren more +fiercely than before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter into +his eyes. This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meant +death. And Breault knew it. He was in a trap--a trap built by himself. +That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had. +There was only one way out--and that meant fight. + +He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not look +at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. He +left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread +out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a +hole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for +ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust +of snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault. The +Ferret was sitting up, and leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an +arm's length away. He reached over, and touched him on the shoulder. + +Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears to +hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porter +was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly. +Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. Then +Breault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear only the +indistinct monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly the +change that came into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he stared +toward the inner room, making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and the +girl. + +The Ferret stopped him. + +“Don't get excited. Let them sleep.” + +McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the two +men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultant +satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. Jolly +Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then he +lightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out in +the darkness until his hand found Peter. + +“They think they've got us, boy,” he whispered, “They think they've got +us!” + +Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter was +wide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands and +knees to the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out the +steady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way around +the wall of his room until he came to a place where the snow was very +soft. + +“An air-drift,” he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. “We'll +fool 'em, boy. And we'll fight--if we have to.” + +He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air-drift +like a gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, heaving +his body up and down and sideways to pack the light snow, leaving a +round tunnel two feet in diameter behind him. Within an hour he had +come to the outer crust on the windward side of the big snow-dune. He +did not break through this crust, which was as tough as crystal-glass, +but lay quietly for a time and listened to the sweep of the wind +outside. It was warm, and very comfortable, and he had half-dozed off +before he caught himself back into wakefulness and returned to his +room. The mouth of his tunnel he packed with snow. After that he wound +the blanket about him and gave himself up calmly to sleep. + +Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly +Roger in what would have been the early dawn outside the snow-dune. +McKay felt his restless movement, and opened his eyes. A faint light +was illumining his room, and he sat up. In the outer room the alcohol +lamp was burning again. He could hear movement, and voices that were +very low and indistinct. Carefully he dug out once more the little hole +in the snow wall, and widened the slit. + +Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and close +beside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and fallen over +her shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her wide-open eyes as +they stared at the door between the two rooms. McKay could see her hand +clasping Porter's arm. Porter was talking, with his face so close to +her bent head that his lips touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger +could understand no word that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering +the exciting secret of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, +for a moment, a shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick, +sibilant whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a finger +at her lips, and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then his +fingers closed about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. McKay +watched the long kiss between them. The girl drew away quickly then, +and Porter tucked the blanket about her when she lay down beside her +father. After that he stretched out again beside Breault. + +Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a bit +nervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the alcohol +lamp. And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her of +the interesting discovery which Breault had made--and to kiss her. +McKay stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer +hear the storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent. + +Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The last +time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, Josephine +Tavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay watched her as +she rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. She bent over +Porter and Breault to make sure they were asleep, and then came +straight toward the door of his room. + +He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped +closely about Peter. + +“Be quiet, boy,” he whispered. “Be quiet.” + +He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl stood +there, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and before he +closed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward him. In a moment +she was bending over him. He could feel the soft caress of her loose +hair on his face and hands. Then she knelt quietly down beside him, +stroking Peter with her hand, and shook him lightly by the shoulder. + +“Jolly Roger!” she whispered. “Jolly Roger McKay!” + +He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom. + +“Yes,” he replied softly. “What is it, Miss Tavish?” + +He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers tightened +at his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, until her hair +cluttered his throat and breast. + +“You are--awake?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then--listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must get +away--somewhere. You must go before Breault awakens in the morning. I +think the storm is over--there is no wind--and if you are here when day +comes--” + +Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in the +darkness he found her hand. It clasped his own--firm, warm, thrilling. + +“I thank you for what you have done,” she whispered. “But the law--and +Breault--they have no mercy!” + +She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the slit +in the wall until she was with her father again. + +In the gloom he drew Peter close to him. + +“We're up against it again, Pied-Bot,” he confided under his breath. +“We've got to take another chance.” + +He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was +ready, and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the outer +room then, where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger pantomimed his +desire as she sat up. He wanted something from one of the packs. She +nodded. On his knees he fumbled in the dunnage, and when he rose to his +feet, facing the girl, her eyes opened wide at what he held in his +hand--a small packet of old newspapers her father was taking to the +factor at Fort Churchill. She saw the hungry, apologetic look in his +eyes, and her woman's heart understood. She smiled gently at him, and +her lips formed an unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go. At +the door he looked back. He thought she was beautiful then, with her +shining hair and eyes, and her lips parted, and her hands half reaching +out to him, as if in that moment of parting she was giving him courage +and faith. Suddenly she pressed the palms of her fingers to her mouth +and sent the kiss of benediction to him through the twilight glow of +the snow-room. + +A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close behind +him, there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. Again he was +fleeing from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had predicted in her +sorcery, there were happiness and hope in his going. And always there +was someone to urge him on, and to take a pride in him, like Josephine +Tavish. + +He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and crawled +out into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The sky was heavy +overhead, and the wind had died out. It was the beginning of the brief +lull which came in the second day of the Great Storm. + +McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them. + +“We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied-Bot,” + he said. “We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles south.” + +He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling straight +away from the first hole he had cut through the shell of the drift. +From that door, made by the outlaw who had saved them, Josephine Tavish +watched the shadowy forms of man and dog until they were lost in the +gray-white chaos of a frozen world. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles +southward from the big dune on the Barren. For a day and a night he +made his camp in the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless tundras +reaching to the Arctic. He believed he was safe, for the unceasing wind +and the blasts of shot-like snow filled his tracks a few moments after +they were made. He struck a straight line for his cabin after that +first day and night in the scrub timber. The storm was still a thing of +terrific force out on the barren, but in the timber he was fairly well +sheltered. He was convinced the police patrol would find his cabin very +soon after the storm had worn itself out. Porter and Tavish did not +trouble him. But from Breault he knew there was no getting away. +Breault would nose out his cabin. And for that reason he was determined +to reach it first. + +The second night he did not sleep. His mind was a wild thing--wild as a +Loup-Garou seeking out its ghostly trails; it passed beyond his +mastery, keeping sleep away from him though he was dead tired. It +carried him back over all the steps of his outlawry, visioning for him +the score of times he had escaped, as he was narrowly escaping now; and +it pictured for him, like a creature of inquisition, the tightening net +ahead of him, the final futility of all his effort. And at last, as if +moved by pity to ease his suffering a little, it brought him back +vividly to the green valley, the flowers and the blue skies of Cragg's +Ridge--and Nada. + +It was like a dream. At times he could scarcely assure himself that he +had actually lived those weeks and months of happiness down on the edge +of civilization; it seemed impossible that Nada had come like an Angel +into his life down there, and that she had loved him, even when he +confessed himself a fugitive from the law and had entreated him to take +her with him. He closed his eyes and that last roaring night of storm +at Cragg's Ridge was about him again. He was in the little old +Missioner's cabin, with thunder and lightning rending earth and sky +outside and Nada was in his arms, her lips against his, the piteous +heartbreak of despair in her eyes. Then he saw her--a moment later--a +crumpled heap down beside the chair, the disheveled glory of her hair +hiding her white face from him as he hesitated for a single instant +before opening the door and plunging out into the night. + +With a cry he sprang up, dashing the vision from him, and threw fresh +fuel on the fire. And he cried out the same old thought to Peter. + +“It would have been murder for us to bring her, Pied-Bot. It would have +been murder!” + +He looked about him at the swirling chaos outside the rim of light made +by his fire and listened to the moaning of the wind over the treetops. +Beyond the circle of light the dry snow, which crunched like sand under +his feet, was lost in ghostly gloom. It was forty degrees below zero. +And he was glad, even with this sickness of despair in his heart, that +she was not a fugitive with him tonight. + +Yet he built up a little make-believe world for himself as he sat with +a blanket hugged close about him, staring into the fire. In a hundred +different ways he saw her face, a will-o-the-wisp thing amid the +flames; an illusive, very girlish, almost childish face--yet always +with the light of a woman's soul shining in it. That was the miracle +which startled him at last. It seemed as if the fiction he built up in +his despair transformed itself subtly into fact and that her soul had +come to him from out of the southland and was speaking to him with eyes +which never changed or faltered in their adoration, their faith and +their courage. She seemed to come to him, to creep into his arms under +the folds of the blanket and he sensed the soft crush of her hair, the +touch of her lips, the warm encircling of her arms about his neck. +Closer to him pressed the mystery, until the beating of her heart was a +living pulse against him; and then--suddenly, as an irresistible +impulse closed his arms to hold the spirit to him, his eyes were drawn +to the heart of the fire, and he saw there for an instant, wide-eyed +and speaking to him, the face of Yellow Bird the Indian sorceress. The +flames crept up the long braids of her hair, her lips moved, and then +she was gone--but slowly, like a ghost slipping upward into the mist of +smoke and night. + +Peter heard his master's cry. And after that Jolly Roger rose up and +threw off the blanket and walked back and forth until his feet trod a +path in the snow. He told himself it was madness to believe, and yet he +believed. Faith fought itself back into that dark citadel of his heart +from which for a time it had been driven. New courage lighted up again +the black chaos of his soul. And at last he fell down on his knees and +gripped Peter's shaggy head between his two hands. + +“Pied-Bot, she said everything would come out right in the end,” he +cried, a new note in his voice. “That's what Yellow Bird told us, +wasn't it? Mebby they would have burned her as a witch a long time ago +because she's a sorceress, and says she can send her soul out of her +body and see what we can't see. BUT WE BELIEVE!” His voice choked up, +and he laughed. “They were both here tonight,” he added. “Nada--and +Yellow Bird. And I believe--I believe--I know what it means!” + +He stood up again, and Peter saw the old smile on his master's lips as +Jolly Roger looked up into the swirling black canopy of the +spruce-tops. And the wailing of the storm seemed no longer to hold +menace and taunt, but in it he heard the whisper of fierce, strong +voices urging upon him the conviction that had already swept indecision +from his heart. + +And then he said, holding out his arms as if encompassing something +which he could not see. + +“Peter, we're going back to Nada!” + +Dawn was a scarcely perceptible thing when it came. Darkness seemed to +fade a little, that was all. Frosty shapes took form in the gloom, and +the spruce-tops became tangible in an abyss of sepulchral shadow +overhead. + +Through this beginning of the barren-land day Jolly Roger set out in +the direction of his cabin and in his blood was that new singing thing +of fire and warmth that more than made up for the hours of sleep he had +lost during the night. The storm was dying out, he thought, and it was +growing warmer; yet the wind whistled and raved in the open spaces and +his thermometer registered the fortieth and a fraction degree below +zero. The air he breathed was softer, he fancied, yet it was still +heavy with the stinging shot of blizzard; and where yesterday he had +seen only the smothering chaos of twisted spruce and piled up snow, +there was now--as the pale day broadened--his old wonderland of savage +beauty, awaiting only a flash of sunlight to transform it into the pure +glory of a thing indescribable. But the sun did not come and Jolly +Roger did not miss it over-much for his heart was full of Nada, and +a-thrill with the inspiration of his home-going. + +“That's what it means, GOING HOME” he said to Peter, who nosed close in +the path of his snowshoes. “There's a thousand miles between us and +Cragg's Ridge, a thousand miles of snow and ice--and hell, mebby. But +we'll make it!” + +He was sure of himself now. It was as if he had come up from out of the +shadow of a great sickness. He had been unwise. He had not reasoned as +a man should reason. The hangman might be waiting for him at Cragg's +Ridge, down on the rim of civilization, but that same grim executioner +was also pursuing close at his heels. He would always be pursuing in +the form of a Breault, a Cassidy, a Tavish, or a Somebody Else of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. It would be that way until the end +came. And when the end did come, when they finally got him, the blow +would be easier at Cragg's Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren +Land. + +And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that with +Nada he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the sorceress, had +promised for them--that mystery-place of safety and of happiness which +she had called The Country Beyond, where “all would end well.” He had +not the faith of Yellow Bird's people; he was not superstitious enough +to believe fully in her sorcery, except that he seized upon it as a +drowning man might grip at a floating sea-weed. Yet was the +under-current of hope so persistent that at times it was near faith. Up +to this hour Yellow Bird's sorcery had brought him nothing but the +truth. For him she had conjured the spirits of her people, and these +spirits, speaking through Yellow Bird's lips, had saved him from +Cassidy at the fishing camp and had performed the miracle on the shore +of Wollaston and had predicted the salvation that had come to him out +on the Barren. And so--was it not conceivable that the other would also +come true? + +But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled through +the hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring himself +physically into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy of her in +his arms once more, the crush of her lips to his, the caress of her +hands in their old sweet way at his face--and to hear her voice, the +girl's voice with the woman's soul behind it, crying out its undying +love, as he had last heard it that night in the Missioner's cabin many +months ago. After this had happened, then--if fate decreed it so--all +other things might end. Breault, the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or +that Somebody Else who was always on his trail. If the game finished +thus, he would be satisfied. + +When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat +Jolly Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter. + +“The big thing we must do is to get there--safely,” he said, already +beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then he went on, +building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while he crunched his +luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There was something joyous +and definite in his voice which entered into Peter's blood and body. +There was even a note of excitement in it, and Peter's whiskers +bristled with fresh courage and his eyes gleamed and his tail thumped +the snow comprehendingly. It was like having a master come back to him +from the dead. + +And Jolly Roger even laughed, softly, under his breath. + +“This is February,” he said. “We ought to make it late in March. I mean +Cragg's Ridge, Pied-Bot.” + +After that they went on, traveling hard to reach their cabin before the +darkness of night, which would drop upon them like a thick blanket at +four o'clock. In these last hours there pressed even more heavily upon +Jolly Roger that growing realization of the vastness and emptiness of +the world. It was as if blindness had dropped from his eyes and he saw +the naked truth at last. Out of this world everything had emptied +itself until it held only Nada. Only she counted. Only she held out her +arms to him, entreating him to keep for her that life in his body which +meant so little in all other ways. He thought of one of the little worn +books which he carried in his shoulder-pack--Jeanne D'Arc. As she had +fought, with the guidance of God, so he believed the blue-eyed girl +down at Cragg's Ridge was fighting for him, and had sent her spirit out +in quest of him. And he was going back to her. GOING! + +The last word, as it came from his lips, meant that nothing would stop +them. He almost shouted it. And Peter answered. + +In spite of their effort, darkness closed in on them. With the first +dusk of this night there came sudden lulls in which the blizzard seemed +to have exhausted itself. Jolly Roger read the signs. By tomorrow there +would be no storm and Breault the Ferret would be on the trail again, +along with Porter and Tavish. + +It was his old craft, his old cunning, that urged him to go on. +Strangely, he prayed for the blizzard not to give up the ghost. +Something must be accomplished before its fury was spent; and he was +glad when after each lull he heard again the moaning and screeching of +it over the open spaces, and the slashing together of spruce tops where +there was cover. In a chaos of gloom they came to the low ridge which +reached across an open sweep of tundra to the finger of shelter where +the cabin was built. An hour later they were at its door. Jolly Roger +opened it and staggered in. For a space he stood leaning against the +wall while his lungs drank in the warmer air. The intake of his breath +made a whistling sound and he was surprised to find himself so near +exhaustion. He heard the thud of Peter's body as it collapsed to the +floor. + +“Tired, Pied-Bot?” + +It was difficult for his storm-beaten lips to speak the words. + +Peter thumped his tail. The rat-tap-tap of it came in one of those +lulls of the storm which Jolly Roger had begun to dread. + +“I hope it keeps up another two hours,” he said, wetting his lips to +take the stiffness out of them. “If it doesn't--” + +He was thinking of Breault as he drew off his mittens and fumbled for a +match. It was Breault he feared. The Ferret would find his cabin and +his trail if the storm died out too soon. + +He lighted the tin lamp on his table and after that, assured that +wastefulness would cost him nothing now, he set two bear-drip candles +going, one at each end of the cabin. The illumination filled the single +room. There was little for it to reveal--the table he had made, a +chair, a battered little sheet-iron stove, and the humped up blanket in +his bunk, under which he had stored the remainder of his possessions. +Back of the stove was a pile of dry wood, and in another five minutes +the roar of flames in the chimney mingled with a fresh bluster of the +wind outside. + +Defying the exhaustion of limbs and body, Jolly Roger kept steadily at +work. He threw off his heavier garments as the freezing atmosphere of +the room became warmer, and prepared for a feast. + +“We'll call it Christmas, and have everything we've got, Pied-Bot. +We'll cook a quart of prunes instead of six. No use stinting +ourselves--tonight!” + +Even Peter was amazed at the prodigality of his master. An hour later +they ate, and McKay drank a quart of hot coffee before he was done. +Half of his fatigue was gone and he sat back for a few minutes to +finish off with the luxury of his pipe. Peter, gorged with caribou +meat, stretched himself out to sleep. But his eyes did not close. His +master puzzled him. For after a little Jolly Roger put on his heavy +coat and parkee and pocketed his pipe. After that he slipped the straps +of his pack over head and shoulders and then, even more to Peter's +bewilderment, emptied a quart bottle of kerosene over the pile of dry +wood behind the hot stove. To this he touched a lighted match. His next +movement drew from Peter a startled yelp. With a single thrust of his +foot he sent the stove crashing into the middle of the floor. + +Half an hour later, when Peter and Jolly Roger looked back from the +crest of the ridge, a red pillar of flame lighted up the gloomy chaos +of the unpeopled world they were leaving behind them. The wind was +driving fiercely from the Barren and with it came stinging volleys of +the fine drift-snow. In the teeth of it Roger McKay stared back. + +“It's a good fire,” he mumbled in his hood. “Half an hour and it will +be out. There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind keeps up +another two hours--nothing but drift-snow, with no sign of trail or +cabin.” + +He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge. Straight south he +went, keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift +covered his snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made. Darkness did +not trouble him now. The open barren was ahead, miles of it, while only +a little to the westward was the shelter of timber. Twice he blundered +to the edge of this timber, but quickly set his course again in the +open, with the wind always quartering at his back. He could only guess +how long he kept on. The time came when he began to count the swing of +his snowshoes, measuring off half a mile, or a mile, and then beginning +over again until at last the achievement of five hundred steps seemed +to take an immeasurable length of time and great effort. Like the ache +of a tooth came the first warning of snowshoe cramp in his legs. In the +black night he grinned. He knew what it meant--a warning as deadly as +swimmer's cramp in deep water. If he continued much longer he would be +crawling on his hands and knees. + +Quickly he turned in the direction of the timber. He had traveled three +hours, he thought, since abandoning his cabin to the flames. Another +half hour, with the caution of slower, shorter steps, brought him to +the timber. Luck was with him and he cried aloud to Peter as he felt +himself in the darkness of a dense cover of spruce and balsam. He freed +himself from his entangled snowshoes and went on deeper into the +shelter. It became warmer and they could feel no longer a breath of the +wind. + +He unloaded his pack and drew from it a jackpine torch, dried in his +cabin and heavy with pitch. Shortly the flare of this torch lighted up +their refuge for a dozen paces about them. In the illumination of it, +moving it from place to place, he gathered dry fire wood and with his +axe cut down green spruce for the smouldering back-fire that would last +until morning. By the time the torch had consumed itself the fire was +burning, and where Jolly Roger had scraped away the snow from the thick +carpet of spruce needles underfoot he piled a thick mass of balsam +boughs, and in the center of the bed he buried himself, wrapped warmly +in his blankets, and with Peter snuggled close at his side. + +Through dark hours the green spruce fire burned slowly and steadily. +For a long time there was wailing of wind out in the open. But at last +it died away, and utter stillness filled the world. No life moved in +these hours which followed the giving up of the big storm's last +gasping breath. Slowly the sky cleared. Here and there a star burned +through. But Jolly Roger and Peter, deep in the sleep of exhaustion, +knew nothing of the change. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was Peter who roused Jolly Roger many hours later; Peter nosing +about the still burning embers of the fire, and at last muzzling his +master's face with increasing anxiety. McKay sat up out of his nest of +balsam boughs and blankets and caught the bright glint of sunlight +through the treetops. He rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure. +Then he looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock and peering in the +direction of the open he saw the white edge of it glistening in the +unclouded blaze of a sun. It was the first sun--the first real sun--he +had seen for many days, and with Peter he went to the rim of the barren +a hundred yards distant. He wanted to shout. As far as he could see the +white plain was ablaze with eye-blinding light, and never had the sky +at Cragg's Ridge been clearer than the sky that was over him now. + +He returned to the fire, singing. Back through the months leapt Peter's +memory to the time when his master had sung like that. It was in Indian +Tom's cabin, with Cragg's Ridge just beyond the creek, and it was in +those days before Terence Cassidy had come to drive them to another +hiding place; in the happy days of Nada's visits and of their trysts +under the Ridge, when even the little gray mother mouse lived in a +paradise with her nest of babies in the box on their cabin shelf. He +had almost forgotten but it came back to him now. It was the old Jolly +Roger--the old master come to life again. + +In the clear stillness of the morning one might have heard that +shouting song half a mile away. But McKay was no longer afraid. As the +storm seemed to have cleaned the world so the sun cleared his soul of +its last shadow of doubt. It was not merely an omen or a promise, but +for him proclaimed a certainty. God was with him. Life was with him. +His world was opening its arms to him again--and he sang as if Nada was +only a mile away from him instead of a thousand. + +When he went on, after their breakfast, he laughed at the thought of +Breault discovering their trail. The Ferret would be more than human to +do that after what wind and storm and fire had done for them. + +This first day of their pilgrimage into the southland was a day of +glory from its beginning until the setting of the sun. There was no +cloud in the sky. And it grew warmer, until Jolly Roger flung back the +hood of his parkee and turned up the fur of his cap. That night a +million stars lighted the heaven. + +After this first day and night nothing could break down the hope and +confidence of Jolly Roger and his, dog. Peter knew they were going +south, in which direction lay everything he had ever yearned for; and +each night beside their campfire McKay made a note with pencil and +paper and measured the distance they had come and the distance they had +yet to go. Hope in a little while became certainty. Into his mind urged +no thought of changes that might have taken place at Cragg's Ridge; or, +if the thought did come, it caused him no uneasiness. Now that Jed +Hawkins was dead Nada would be with the little old Missioner in whose +care he had left her, and not for an instant did a doubt cloud the +growing happiness of his anticipations. Breault and the hunters of the +law were the one worry that lay ahead and behind him. If he outwitted +them he would find Nada waiting for him. + +Day after day they kept south and west until they struck the Thelon; +and then through a country unmapped, and at times terrific in its cold +and storm, they fought steadily to the frozen regions of the Dubawnt +waterways. Only once in the first three weeks did they seek human +company. This was at a small Indian camp where Jolly Roger bartered for +caribou meat and moccasins for Peter's feet. Twice between there and +God's Lake they stopped at trappers' cabins. + +It was early in March when they struck the Lost Lake country, three +hundred miles from Cragg's Ridge. + +And here it was, buried under a blind of soft snow, that Peter nosed +out the frozen carcass of a disemboweled buck which Boileau, the French +trapper, had poisoned for wolves. Jolly Roger had built a fire and was +warming half a pint of deer tallow for a baking of bannock, when Peter +dragged himself in, his rear legs already stiffening with the palsy of +strychnine. In a dozen seconds McKay had the warm tallow down Peter's +throat, to the last drop of it; and this he followed with another dose +as quickly as he could heat it, and in the end Peter gave up what he +had eaten. + +Half an hour later Boileau, who was eating his dinner, jumped up in +wonderment when the door of his cabin was suddenly opened by a grim and +white-faced man who carried the limp body of a dog in his arms. + +For a long time after this the shadow of death hung over the +Frenchman's trapping-shack. To Boileau, with his brotherly sympathy and +regret that his poison-bait had brought calamity, Peter was “just dog.” + But when at last he saw the strong shoulders of the grim-faced stranger +shaking over Peter's paralyzed body and listened to the sobbing grief +that broke in passionate protest from his white lips, he drew back a +little awed. It seemed for a time that Peter was dead; and in those +moments Jolly Roger put his arms about him and buried his despairing +face in Peter's scraggly neck, calling in a wild fit of anguish for him +to come back, to live, to open his eyes again. Boileau, crossing +himself, felt of Peter's body and McKay heard his voice over him, +saying that the dog was not dead, but that his heart was beating +steadily and that he thought the last stiffening blow of the poison was +over. To McKay it was like bringing the dead back to life. He raised +his head and drew away his arms and knelt beside the bunk stunned and +mutely hopeful while Boileau took his place and began dropping warm +condensed milk down Peter's throat. In a little while Peter's eyes +opened and he gave a great sigh. + +Boileau looked up and shrugged his shoulders. + +“That was a good breath, m'sieu,” he said. “What is left of the poison +has done its worst. He will live.” + +A bit stupidly McKay rose to his feet. He swayed a little, and for the +first time sensed the hot tears that had blinded his eyes and wet his +cheeks. And then there came a sobbing laugh out of his throat and he +went to the window of the Frenchman's shack and stared out into the +white world, seeing nothing. He had stood in the presence of death many +times before but never had that presence choked up his heart as in this +hour when the soul of Peter, his comrade, had stood falteringly for a +space half-way between the living and the dead. + +When he turned from the window Boileau was covering Peter's body with +blankets and a warm bear skin. And for many days thereafter Peter was +nursed through the slow sickness which followed. + +An early spring came this year in the northland. South of the Reindeer +waterway country the snows were disappearing late in March and ice was +rotting the first week in April. Winds came from the south and west and +the sun was warmer and clearer than Boileau had ever known it at the +winter's end in Lost Lake country. It was in this first week of April +that Peter was able to travel, and McKay pointed his trail once more +for Cragg's Ridge. + +He left a part of his winter dunnage at Boileau's shack and went on +light, figuring to reach Cragg's Ridge before the new “goose moon” had +worn itself out in the west. But for a week Peter lagged and until the +darker red in the rims of his eyes cleared away Jolly Roger checked the +impetus of his travel so that the goose moon had faded out and the +“frog moon” of May was in its full before they came down the last slope +that dipped from the Height of Land to the forests and lakes of the +lower country. + +And now, in these days, it seemed to Jolly Roger that a great kindness, +and not tragedy, had delayed him so that his “home coming” was in the +gladness of spring. All about him was the sweetness and mystic +whispering of new life just awakening. It was in the sky and the sun; +it was underfoot, in the fragrance of the mold he trod upon, in the +trees about him, and in the mate-chirping of the birds flocking back +from the southland. His friends the jays were raucous and jaunty again, +bullying and bluffing in the warmth of sunshine; the black glint of +crows' wings flashed across the opens; the wood-sappers and pewees and +big-eyed moose-birds were aflutter with the excitement of home +planning; partridges were feasting on the swelling poplar buds--and +then, one glorious sunset, he heard the chirruping evening song of his +first robin. + +And the next day they would reach Cragg's Ridge! + +Half of that last night he sat up, awake, or smoked in the glow of his +fire, waiting for the dawn. With the first lifting of darkness he was +traveling swiftly ahead of Peter and the morning was only half gone +when he saw far ahead of him the great ridge which shut out Indian +Tom's swamp, and Nada's plain, and Cragg's Ridge beyond it. + +It was noon when he stood at the crest of this. He was breathing hard, +for to reach this last precious height from which he might look upon +the country of Nada's home he had half run up its rock-strewn side. +There, with his lungs gasping for air, his eager eyes shot over the +country below him and for a moment the significance of the thing which +he saw did not strike him. And then in another instant it seemed that +his heart choked up, like a fist suddenly tightened, and stopped its +beating. + +Reaching away from him, miles upon miles of it, east, west and +south--was a dead and char-stricken world. + +Up to the foot of the ridge itself had come the devastation of flame, +and where it had swept, months ago, there was now no sign of the +glorious spring that lay behind him. + +He looked for Indian Tom's swamp, and where it had been there was no +longer a swamp but a stricken chaos of ten thousand black stubs, the +shriven corpses of the spruce and cedar and jackpines out of which the +wolves had howled at night. + +He looked for the timber on Sucker Creek where the little old +Missioner's cabin lay, and where he had dreamed that Nada would be +waiting for him. And he saw no timber there but only the littleness and +emptiness of a blackened world. + +And then he looked to Cragg's Ridge, and along the bald crest of it, +naked as death, he saw blackened stubs pointing skyward, painting +desolation against the blue of the heaven beyond. + +A cry came from him, a cry of fear and of horror, for he was looking +upon the fulfilment of Yellow Bird's prediction. He seemed to hear, +whispering softly in his ears, the low, sweet voice of the sorceress, +as on the night when she had told him that if he returned to Cragg's +Ridge he would find a world that had turned black with ruin and that it +would not be there he would ever find Nada. + +After that one sobbing cry he tore like a madman dawn into the valley, +traveling swiftly through the muck of fire and under-foot tangle with +Peter fighting behind him. Half an hour later he stood where the +Missioner's cabin had been and he found only a ruin of ash and logs +burned down to the earth. Where the trail had run there was no longer a +trail. A blight, grim and sickening, lay upon the earth that had been +paradise. + +Peter heard the choking sound in his master's throat and chest. He, +too, sensed the black shadow of tragedy and cautiously he sniffed the +air, knowing that at last they were home--and yet it was not home. +Instinctively he had faced Cragg's Ridge and Jolly Roger, seeing the +dog's stiffened body pointing toward the break beyond which lay Nada's +old home, felt a thrill of hope leap up within him. Possibly the +farther plain had escaped the scourge of fire. If so, Nada would be +there, and the Missioner-- + +He started for the break, a mile away. As he came nearer to it his hope +grew less for he could see where the flames had swept in an inundating +sea along Cragg's Ridge. They passed over the meadow where the thick +young jackpines, the red strawberries and the blue violets had been and +Peter heard the strange sob when they came to the little hollow--the +old trysting place where Nada had first given herself into his master's +arms. And there it was that Peter forgot master and caution and sped +swiftly ahead to the break that cut the Ridge in twain. + +When Jolly Roger came to that break and ran through it he was +staggering from the mad effort he had made. And then, all at once, the +last of his wind came in a cry of gladness. He swayed against a rock +and stood there staring wild-eyed at what was before him. The world was +as black ahead of him as it was behind. But Jed Hawkins' cabin was +untouched! The fire had crept up to its very door and there it had died. + +He went on the remaining hundred yards and before the closed door of +Nada's old home he found Peter standing stiff-legged and strange. He +opened the door and a damp chill touched his face. The cabin was empty. +And the gloom and desolation of a grave filled the place. + +He stepped in, a moaning whisper of the truth coming to his lips. He +heard the scurrying flight of a starved wood-rat, a flutter of loose +papers, and then the silence of death fell about him. The door of +Nada's little room was open and he entered through it. The bed was +naked and there remained only the skeleton of things that had been. + +He moved now like a man numbed by a strange sickness and Peter followed +gloomily and silently in the footsteps of his master. They went outside +and a distance away Jolly Roger saw a thing rising up out of the char +of fire, ugly and foreboding, like the evil spirit of desolation +itself. It was a rude cross made of saplings, up which the flames had +licked their way, searing it grim and black. + +His hands clenched slowly for he knew that under the cross lay the body +of Jed Hawkins, the fiend who had destroyed his world. + +After that he re-entered the cabin and went into Nada's room, closing +the door behind him; and for many minutes thereafter Peter remained +outside guarding the outer door, and hearing no sound or movement from +within. + +When Jolly Roger came out his face was set and white, and he looked +where the thick forest had stood on that stormy night when he ran down +the trail toward Mooney's cabin. There was no forest now. But he found +the old tie-cutters' road, cluttered as it was with the debris of fire, +and he knew when he came to that twist in the trail where long ago Jed +Hawkins had lain dead on his back. Half a mile beyond he came to the +railroad. Here it was that the fire had burned hottest, for as far as +his vision went he could see no sign of life or of forest green alight +in the waning sun. + +And now there fell upon him, along with the desolation of despair, a +something grimmer and more terrible--a thing that was fear. About him +everywhere reached this graveyard of death, leaving no spot untouched. +Was it possible that Nada and the Missioner had not escaped its fury? +The fear settled upon him more heavily as the sun went down and the +gloom of evening came, bringing with it an unpleasant chill and a +cloying odor of things burned dead. + +He did not talk to Peter now. There was a lamp in the cabin and wood +behind the stove, and silently he built a fire and trimmed and lighted +the wick when darkness came. And Peter, as if hiding from the ghosts of +yesterday, slunk into a corner and lay there unmoving and still. And +McKay did not get supper nor did he smoke, but after a long time he +carried his blankets into Nada's room, and spread them out upon her +bed. Then he put out the light and quietly laid himself down where +through the nights of many a month and year Nada had slept in the moon +glow. + +The moon was there tonight. The faint glow of it rose in the east and +swiftly it climbed over the ragged shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, flooding +the blackened world with light and filling the room with a soft and +golden radiance. It was a moon undimmed, full and round and yellow; and +it seemed to smile in through the window as if some living spirit in it +had not yet missed Nada, and was embracing her in its glory. And now it +came upon Jolly Roger why she had loved it even more than she had loved +the sun; for through the little window it shut out all the rest of the +world, and sitting up, he seemed to hear her heart beating at his side +and clearly he saw her face in the light of it and her slim arms +out-reaching, as if to gather it to her breast. Thus--many times, she +had told him--had she sat up in her bed to greet the moon and to look +for the smiling face that was almost always there, the face of the Man +in the Moon, her friend and playmate in the sky. + +For a space his heart leapt up; and then, as if discovery of the +usurper in her room had come, a cloud swept over the face of the moon +like a mighty hand and darkness crowded him in. But the cloud sailed on +and the light drove out the gloom again. Then it was that Jolly Roger +saw the Old Man in the Moon was up and awake tonight, for never had he +seen his face more clearly. Often had Nada pointed it out to him in her +adorable faith that the Old Man loved her, telling him how this feature +changed and that feature changed, how sometimes the Old Man looked sick +and at others well, and how there were times when he smiled and was +happy and other times when he was sad and stern and sat there in his +castle in the sky sunk in a mysterious grief which she could not +understand. + +“And always I can tell whether I'm going to be glad or sorry by the +look of the Man in the Moon,” she had said to him. “He looks down and +tells me even when the clouds are thick and he can only peep through +now and then. And he knows a lot about you, Mister--Jolly +Roger--because I've told him everything.” + +Very quietly Jolly Roger got up from the bed and very strange seemed +his manner to Peter as he walked through the outer room and into the +night beyond. There he stood making no sound or movement, like one of +the lifeless stubs left by fire; and Peter looked up, as his master was +looking, trying to make out what it was he saw in the sky. And nothing +was there--nothing that he had not seen many times before; a billion +stars, and the moon riding King among them all, and fleecy clouds as if +made of web, and stillness, a great stillness that was like sleep in +the lap of the world. + +For a little Jolly Roger was silent and then Peter heard him saying, + +“Yellow Bird was right--again. She said we'd find a black world down +here and we've found it. And we're going to find Nada where she told us +we'd find her, in that place she called The Country Beyond--the country +beyond the forests, beyond the tall trees and the big swamps, beyond +everything we've ever known of the wild and open spaces; the country +where God lives in churches on Sunday and where people would laugh at +some of our queer notions, Pied-Bot. It's there we'll find Nada, driven +out by the fire, and waiting for us now in the settlements.” + +He spoke with a strange and quiet conviction, the haggard look dying +out of his face as he stared up into the splendor of the sky. + +And then he said. + +“We won't sleep tonight, Peter. We'll travel with the moon.” + +Half an hour later, as the lonely figures of man and dog headed for the +first settlement a dozen miles away, there seemed to come for an +instant the flash of a satisfied smile in the face of the Man in the +sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +From the cabin McKay went first to the great rock that jutted from the +broken shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, and as they stood there Peter heard +the strange something that was like a laugh, and yet was not a laugh, +on his master's lips. But his scraggly face did not look up. There was +an answering whimper in his throat. He had been slow in sensing the +significance of the mysterious thing that had changed his old home +since months ago. During the hours of afternoon, and these moonlit +hours that followed, he tried to understand. He knew this was home. Yet +the green grass was gone, and a million trees had changed into +blackened stubs. The world was no longer shut in by deep forests. And +Cragg's Ridge was naked where he and Nada had romped in sunshine and +flowers, and out of it all rose the mucky death-smell of the +flame-swept earth. These things he understood, in his dog way. But what +he could not understand clearly was why Nada was not in the cabin, and +why they did not find her, even though the world was changed. + +He sat back on his haunches, and Jolly Roger heard again the whimpering +grief in his throat. It comforted the man to know that Peter +remembered, and he was not alone in his desolation. Gently he placed a +soot-grimed hand on his comrade's head. + +“Peter, it was from this rock--right where we're standing now--that I +first saw her, a long time ago,” he said, a bit of forced cheer +breaking through the huskiness of his voice. “Remember the little +jackpine clump down there? You climbed up onto her lap, a little +know-nothing thing, and you pawed in her loose curls, and growled so +fiercely I could hear you. And when I made a noise, and she looked up, +I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen--just a kid, +with those eyes like the flowers, and her hair shining in the sun, an' +tear stains on her cheeks. Tear stains, Pied-Bot--because of that snake +who's dead over there. Remember how you growled at me, Peter?” + +Peter wriggled an answer. + +“That was the beginning,” said Jolly Roger, “and this--looks like the +end. But--” + +He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the +grotesque movement of his shadow on the rock. + +“We're going to find her before that end comes,” he added defiantly. +“We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us to the +settlements--right up into the face of the law.” + +He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the +deadness of the world about them. Again he followed where once had been +the trail that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line of rail +that rambled for eighty miles into the wilderness from Fort William. +The P. D. & W. it was named--Port Arthur, Duluth & Western; but it had +never reached Duluth, and there were those who had nicknamed it +Poverty, Destruction & Want. Many times Jolly Roger had laughed at the +queer stories Nada told him about it; how a wrecking outfit was always +carried behind on the twice-a-week train, and how the crew picked +berries in season, and had their trapping lines, and once chased a bear +half way to Whitefish Lake while the train waited for hours. She called +it the “Cannon Ball,” because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine +miles in twenty-four hours. But there was nothing of humor about it as +Jolly Roger and Peter came out upon it tonight. It stretched out both +ways from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from +where they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea. + +Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. And the +whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him, +urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked +for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward. + +But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties +one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and about them, +and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads, +the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For the silver and gold of +the moon and the black muck of the fire refused to mingle, and while +over their heads they could see the tiniest clouds and beyond to the +farthest stars, all was black emptiness when they looked about them +upon what once had been a living earth. Only the two lines of steel +caught the moon-glow and the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs +that rose up out of the earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against +the sky. + +To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not hear or +smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed watchfulness +against impending evil. Under many moons he had traveled with his +master in their never-ending flight from the law, and many other nights +with neither moon nor stars had they felt out their trails together. +But always, under him and over him on all sides of him, there had been +LIFE. And tonight there was no life, nor smell of life. There was no +chirp of night bird, or flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry +of loon. He listened in vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the +whisper of wind in treetops. And there was no smell--no musk of mink +that had crossed his path, no taste in the air of the strong scented +fox, no subtle breath of partridge and rabbit and fleshy porcupine. And +even from the far distances there came no sound, no howl of wolf, no +castanet clatter of stout moose horns against bending saplings--not +even the howl of a trapper's dog. + +The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as if +some fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's feet. To +McKay, sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came understanding +that brought with it an uneasiness which changed swiftly into the chill +of a growing fear. The utter lifelessness told him how vast the +destruction of the fire had been. Its obliteration was so great no life +had adventured back into the desolated country, though the +conflagration must have passed in the preceding autumn, many months +ago. The burned country was a grave and the nearest edge of it, judged +from the sepulchral stillness of the night, was many miles away. + +For the first time came the horror of the thought that in such a fire +as this people must have died. It had swept upon them like a tidal +wave, galloping the forests with the speed of a race horse, with only +this thin line of rail leading to the freedom of life outside. In +places only a miracle could have made escape possible. And here, where +Nada had lived, with the pitch-wood forests crowding close, the fire +must have burned most fiercely. In this moment, when fear of the +unspeakable set his heart trembling, his faith fastened itself grimly +to the little old gray Missioner, Father John, in whose cabin Nada had +taken refuge many months ago, when Jed Hawkins lay dead in the trail +with his one-eyed face turned up to the thunder and lightning in the +sky. Father John, on that stormy night when he fled north, had promised +to care for Nada, and in silence he breathed a prayer that the +Missioner had saved her from the red death that had swept like an +avalanche upon them. He told himself it must be so. He cried out the +words aloud, and Peter heard him, and followed closer, so that his head +touched his master's leg as he walked. + +But the fear was there. From a spark it grew into a red-hot spot in +Jolly Roger's heart. Twice in his own life he had raced against death +in a forest fire. But never had he seen a fire like this must have +been. All at once he seemed to hear the roar of it in his ears, the +rolling thunder of the earth as it twisted in the cataclysm of flame, +the hissing shriek of the flaming pitch-tops as they leapt in lightning +fires against the smoke-smothered sky. A few hours ago he had stood +where Father John's Cabin had been and the place was a ruin of char and +ash. If the fire had hemmed them in and they had not escaped-- + +His voice cried out in sudden protest. + +“It can't be, Peter. It can't be! They made the rail--or the lake--and +we'll find them in the settlements. It couldn't happen. God wouldn't +let her die like that!” + +He stopped, and stared into the moon-broken gloom on his left. +Something was there, fifty feet away, that drew him down through the +muck which lay knee deep in the right-of-way ditch. It was what was +left of the cutter's cabin, a clutter of burned logs, a wind scattered +heap of ash. Even there, within arm's reach of the railroad, there had +been no salvation from the fire. + +He waded again through the muck of the ditch, and went on. Mentally and +physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving to achieve +possession of his brain. Over and over he repeated his faith that Nada +and the Missioner had escaped and he would find them in the +settlements. Less than ever he thought of the law in these hours. What +happened to himself was of small importance now, if he could find Nada +alive before the menace caught up with him from behind, or ambushed him +ahead. Yet the necessity of caution impinged itself upon him even in +the recklessness of his determination to find her if he had to walk +into the arms of the law that was hunting him. + +For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed to +turn its face to look at them; and behind them, when they looked back, +the world was transformed into a black pit, while ahead--with the glow +of it streaming over their shoulders--ghostly shapes took form, and +vision reached farther. Twice they caught the silvery gleam of lakes +through the tree-stubs, and again they walked with the rippling murmur +of a stream that kept for a mile within the sound of their ears. But +even here, with water crying out its invitation to life, there was no +life. + +Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster as he +strained his eyes to see ahead. Somewhere near, within a mile or two, +was the first settlement with its sawmill and its bunkhouses, its one +store and its few cabins, with flat mountains of sawdust on one side of +it, and the evergreen forest creeping up to its doors on the other. +Surely they would find life here, where there had been man power to +hold fire back from the clearing. And it was here he might find Nada +and the Missioner, for more than once Father John had preached to the +red-cheeked women and children and the clear-eyed men of the Finnish +community that thrived there. + +But as they drew nearer he listened in vain for the bark of a dog, and +his eyes quested as futilely for a point of light in the wide canopy of +gloom. At last, close together, they rounded a curve in the road, and +crossed a small bridge with a creek running below, and McKay knew his +arm should be able to send a stone to what he was seeking ahead. And +then, a minute later, he drew in a great gasping breath of unbelief and +horror. + +For the settlement was no longer in the clearing between him and the +rim-glow of the moon. No living tree raised its head against the sky, +no sign of cabin or mill shadowed the earth, and where the store had +been, and the little church with its white-painted cross, was only a +chaos of empty gloom. + +He went down, as he had gone to the tie cutter's cabin, and for many +minutes he stared and listened, while Peter seemed to stand without +breathing. Then making a wide megaphone of his hands, he shouted. It +was an alarming thing to do and Peter started as if struck. For there +were only ghosts to answer back and the hollowness of a shriven pit for +the cry to travel in. Nothing was there. Even the great sawdust piles +had shrunk into black scars under the scourge of the fire. + +A groaning agony was in the breath of Jolly Roger's lips as he went +back to the railroad and hurried on Death must have come here, death +sudden and swift. And if it had fallen upon the Finnish settlement, +with its strong women and its stronger men, what might it not have done +in the cabin of the little old gray Missioner--and Nada? + +For a long time after that he forgot Peter was with him. He forgot +everything but his desire to reach a living thing. At times, where the +road-bed was smooth, he almost ran, and at others he paused for a +little to gather his breath and listen. And it was Peter, in one of +these intervals, who caught the first message of life. From a long +distance away came faintly the barking of a dog. + +Half a mile farther on they came to a clearing where no stubs of trees +stood up like question marks against the sky, and in this clearing was +a cabin, a dark blotch that was without light or sound. But from behind +it the dog barked again, and Jolly Roger made quickly toward it. Here +there was no ash under his feet, and he knew that at last he had found +an oasis of life in the desolation. Loudly he knocked with his fist at +the cabin door and soon there was a response inside, the heavy movement +of a man's body getting out of bed, and after that the questioning +voice of a woman. He knocked again and the flare of a lighted match +illumined the window. Then came the drawing of a bar at the door and a +man stood there in his night attire, a man with a heavy face and +bristling beard, and a lamp in his hand. + +“I beg your pardon for waking you,” said Jolly Roger, “but I am just +down from the north, hoping to find my friends back here and I have +seen nothing but destruction and death. You are the first living soul I +have found to ask about them.” + +“Where were they?” grunted the man. + +“At Cragg's Ridge.” + +“Then God help them,” came the woman's voice from back in the room. + +“Cragg's Ridge,” said the man, “was a burning hell in the middle of the +night.” + +Jolly Roger's fingers dug into the wood at the edge of the door. + +“You mean--” + +“A lot of 'em died,” said the man stolidly, as if eager to rid himself +of the one who had broken his sleep. “If it was Mooney, he's dead. An' +if it was Robson, or Jake the Swede, or the Adams family--they're dead, +too.” + +“But it wasn't,” said Jolly Roger, his heart choking between fear and +hope. “It was Father John, the Missioner, and Nada Hawkins, who lived +with him--or with her foster-mother in the Hawkins' cabin.” + +The man shook his head, and turned down the wick of his lamp. + +“I dunno about the girl, or the old witch who was her mother,” he said, +“but the Missioner made it out safe, and went to the settlements.” + +“And no girl was with him?” + +“No, there was no girl,” came the woman's voice again, and Peter jerked +up his ears at the creaking of a bed. “Father John stopped here the +second day after the fire had passed, and he said he was gathering up +the bones of the dead. Nada Hawkins wasn't with him, and he didn't say +who had died and who hadn't. But I think--” + +She stopped as the bearded man turned toward her. + +“You think what?” demanded Jolly Roger, stepping half into the room. + +“I think,” said the woman, “that she died along with the others. +Anyway, Jed Hawkins' witch-woman was burned trying to make for the +lake, and little of her was left.” + +The man with the lamp made a movement as if to close the door. + +“That's all we know,” he growled. + +“For God's sake--don't!” entreated Jolly Roger, barring the door with +his arm. “Surely there were some who escaped from Cragg's Ridge and +beyond!” + +“Mebby a half, mebby less,” said the man. “I tell you it burned like +hell, and the worst of it came in the middle of the night with a wind +behind it that blew a hurricane. We've twenty acres cleared here, with +the cabin in the center of it, an' it singed my beard and burned her +hair and scorched our hands, and my pigs died out there from the heat +of it. Mebby it's a place to sleep in for the night you want, stranger?” + +“No, I'm going on,” said Jolly Roger, the blood in his veins running +with the chill of water. “How far before I come to the end of fire?” + +“Ten miles on. It started this side of the next settlement.” + +Jolly Roger drew back and the door closed, and standing on the railroad +once more he saw the light go out and after that the occasional barking +of the settler's dog grew fainter and fainter behind them. + +He felt a great weariness in his bones and body now. With hope struck +down the exhaustion of two nights and a day without sleep seized upon +him and his feet plodded more and more slowly over the uneven ties of +the road. Even in his weariness he fought madly against the thought +that Nada was dead and he repeated the word “impossible--impossible” so +often that it ran in sing-song through his brain. And he could not keep +away from him the white, thin face of the Missioner, who had promised +on his faith In God to care for Nada, and who had passed the settler's +cabin ALONE. + +Another two hours they went on and then came the first of the green +timber. Under the shelter of some balsams Jolly Roger found a resting +place and there they waited for the break of dawn. Peter stretched out +and slept. But Jolly Roger sat with his head and shoulders against the +bole of a tree, and not until the light of the moon was driven away by +the darkness that preceded dawn by an hour or two did his eyes close in +restless slumber. He was roused by the wakening twitter of birds and in +the cold water of a creek that ran near he bathed his face and hands. +Peter wondered why there was no fire and no breakfast this morning. + +The settlement was only a little way ahead and it was very early when +they reached it. People were still in their beds and out of only one +chimney was smoke rising into the clear calm of the breaking day. From +this cabin a young man came, and stood for a moment after he had closed +the door, yawning and stretching his arms and looking up to see what +sort of promise the sky held for the day. After that he went to a +stable of logs, and Jolly Roger followed him there. + +He was unlike the bearded settler, and nodded with a youthful smile of +cheer. + +“Good morning,” he said. “You're traveling early, and--” + +He looked more keenly as his eyes took in Jolly Roger's boots and +clothes, and the gray pallor in his face. + +“Just get in?” he asked kindly. “And--from the burnt country?” + +“Yes, from the burnt country. I've been away a long time, and I'm +trying to find out if my friends are among the living or the dead. Did +you ever hear of Father John, the Missioner at Cragg's Ridge?” + +The young man's face brightened. + +“I knew him,” he said. “He helped me to bury my brother, three years +ago. And if it's him you seek, he is safe. He went up to Fort William a +week after the fire, and that was in September, eight months past.” + +“And was there with him a girl named Nada Hawkins?” asked Jolly Roger, +trying hard to speak calmly as he looked into the other's face. + +The youth shook his head. + +“No, he was alone. He slept in my cabin overnight, and he said nothing +of a girl named Nada Hawkins.” + +“Did he speak of others?” + +“He was very tired, and I think he was half dead with grief at what had +happened. He spoke no names that I remember.” + +Then he saw the gray look in Jolly Roger's face grow deeper, and saw +the despair which could not hide itself in his eyes. + +“But there were a number of girls who passed here, alone or with their +friends,” he said hopefully. “What sort of looking girl was Nada +Hawkins?” + +“A--kid. That's what I called her,” said Jolly Roger, in a dead, cold +voice. “Eighteen, and beautiful, with blue eyes, and brown hair that +she couldn't keep from blowing in curls about her face. So like an +angel you wouldn't forget her if you'd seen her--just once.” + +Gently the youth placed a hand on Jolly Roger's arm. + +“She didn't come this way,” he said, “but maybe you'll find her +somewhere else. Won't you have breakfast with me? I've a stranger in +the cabin, still sleeping, who's going into the fire country from which +you've come. He's hunting for some one, and maybe you can give him +information. He's going to Cragg's Ridge.” + +“Cragg's Ridge!” exclaimed Jolly Roger. “What is his name?” + +“Breault,” said the youth. “Sergeant Breault, of the Royal Northwest +Mounted Police.” + +Jolly Roger turned to stroke the neck of a horse waiting for its +morning feed. But he felt nothing of the touch of flesh under his hand. +Cold as iron went his heart, and for half a minute he made no answer. +Then he said: + +“Thanks, friend. I breakfasted before it was light and I'm hitting out +into the brush west and north, for the Rainy River country. Please +don't tell this man Breault that you saw me, for he'll think badly of +me for not waiting to give him information he might want. But--you +understand--if you loved the brother who died--that it's hard for me to +talk with anyone just now.” + +The young man's fingers touched his arm again. + +“I understand,” he said, “and I hope to God you'll find her.” + +Silently they shook hands, and Jolly Roger hurried away from the cabin +with the rising spiral of smoke. + +Three days later a man and a dog came from the burned country into the +town of Fort William, seeking for a wandering messenger of God who +called himself Father John, and a young and beautiful girl whose name +was Nada Hawkins. He stopped first at the old mission, in whose shadow +the Indians and traders of a century before had bartered their wares, +and Father Augustine, the aged patriarch who talked with him, murmured +as he went that he was a strange man, and a sick one, with a little +madness lurking in his eyes. + +And it was, in fact, a madness of despair eating out the life in Jolly +Roger's heart. For he no longer had hope Nada had escaped the fire, +even though at no place had he found a conclusive evidence of her +death. But that signified little, for there were many of the missing +who had not been found between the last of September and these days of +May. What he did find, with deadly regularity, was the fact that Father +John had escaped--and that he had traveled to safety ALONE. + +And Father Augustine told him that when Father John stopped to rest for +a few days at the Mission he was heading north, for somewhere on +Pashkokogon Lake near the river Albany. + +There was little rest for Peter and his master at Fort William town. +That Breault must be close on their trail, and following it with the +merciless determination of the ferret from which he had been named, +there was no shadow of doubt in the mind of Jolly Roger McKay. So after +outfitting his pack at a little corner shop, where Breault would be +slow to enquire about him, he struck north through the bush toward Dog +Lake and the river of the same name. Five or six days, he thought, +would bring him to Father John and the truth which he dreaded more and +more to hear. + +The despondency of his master had sunk, in some mysterious way, into +the soul of Peter. Without the understanding of language he sensed the +oppressive gloom of tragedy behind and about him and there was a +wolfish slinking in the manner of his travel now, and his confidence +was going as he caught the disease of despair of the man who traveled +with him. But constantly and vigilantly his eyes and scent were +questing about them, suspicious of the very winds that whispered in the +treetops. And at night after they had built their little cooking fire +in the deepest heart of the bush he would lie half awake during the +hours of darkness, the watchfulness of his senses never completely +dulled in the stupor of sleep. + +Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly Roger's +face had grown grayer and thinner. A number of times he had tried to +assure himself what he would do in that moment which was coming when he +would stand face to face with Breault the man-hunter. His caution, +after he left Fort William, was in a way an automatic instinct that +worked for self-preservation in face of the fact that he was growing +less and less concerned regarding Breault's appearance. It was not in +his desire to delay the end much longer. The chase had been a long one, +with its thrills and its happiness at times, but now he was growing +tired and with Nada gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead. If she +were dead he wanted to go to her. That thought was a dawning pleasure +in his breast, and it was warm in his heart when he tied in a hard knot +the buckskin string which locked the flap of his pistol holster. When +Breault overtook him the law would know, because of the significance of +this knot, that he had welcomed the end of the game. + +Never in the northland had there come a spring more beautiful than this +of the year in which McKay and his dog went through the deep wilds to +Pashkokogon Lake. In a few hours, it seemed, the last chill died out of +the air and there came the soft whispers of those bridal-weeks between +May and Summer, a month ahead of their time. But Jolly Roger, for the +first time in his life, failed to respond to the wonder and beauty of +the earth's rejoicing. The first flowers did not fill him with the old +joy. He no longer stood up straight, with expanding chest, to drink in +the rare sweetness of air weighted with the tonic of balsams and cedar +spruce. Vainly he tried to lift up his soul with the song and bustle of +mating things. There was no longer music for him in the flood-time +rushing of spring waters. An utter loneliness filled the cry of the +loon. And all about him was a vast emptiness from which the spirit of +life had fled for him. + +Thus he came at last to a stream in the Burntwood country which ran +into Pashkokogon Lake; and it was this day, in the mellow sunlight of +late afternoon, that they heard coming to them from out of the dense +forest the chopping of an axe. + +Toward this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until in a +little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It was a +newly built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney. + +But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of +evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their way and +came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the axe. It was +then that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, for the man was +Father John the Missioner. + +In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little gray man +seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly Roger had fled to +the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as if only half believing, +a look of joy shining in his face as he realized the truth of what had +happened. “McKay,” he cried, reaching out his hands. “McKay, my boy!” + +A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the change +in Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its mark upon it. + +They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and answering +with the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner said: + +“You have heard? Someone has told you?” + +“No,” said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. “No one has told +me,” and he was thinking of Nada, and her death. + +Father John's fingers tightened. + +“It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about,” he spoke in +a low voice. “Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!” + +Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him. + +“No, you didn't kill him,” repeated Father John. “On that same night of +the storm when you thought you left him dead in the trail, he stumbled +back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance came soon. + +“A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell from a +ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him buried in sight +of the cabin door--” + +But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the Ferret +and the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck than he was +of another thing. And Father John was saying in a voice that seemed far +away and unreal: + +“We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone would +find you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, and each +hour of the day the same prayer has been in her heart and on her lips. +And now--” + +Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin--someone, a +girl, and she was singing, + +McKay's face went whiter than the gray ash of fire. + +“My God,” he whispered huskily. “I thought--she had died!” + +It was only then Father John understood the meaning of what he had seen +in his face. + +“No, she is alive,” he cried. “I sent her straight north through the +bush with an Indian the day after the fire. And later I left word for +you with the Fire Relief Committee at Fort William, where I thought you +would first enquire.” + +“And it was there,” said Jolly Roger, “that I did not enquire at all!” + +In the edge of the clearing, close to the thicket of timber, Nada had +stopped. For across the open space a strange looking creature had raced +at the sound of her voice; a dog with bristling Airedale whiskers, and +a hound's legs, and wild-wolf's body hardened and roughened by months +of fighting in the wilderness. As in the days of his puppyhood, Peter +leapt up against her, and a cry burst from Nada's lips, a wild and +sobbing cry of PETER, PETER, PETER--and it was this cry Jolly Roger +heard as he tore away from Father John. + +On her knees, with her arms about Peter's shaggy head, Nada stared +wildly at the clump of timber, and in a moment she saw a man break out +of it, and stand still, as if the mellow sunlight blinded him, and made +him unable to move. And the same choking weakness was at her own heart +as she rose up from Peter, and reached out her arms toward the gray +figure in the edge of the wood, sobbing, trying to speak and yet saying +no word. + +And a little slower, because of his age, Father John came a moment +later, and peered out with the knowledge of long years from a thicket +of young banksians, and when he saw the two in the open, close in each +other's arms, and Peter hopping madly about them, he drew out a +handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and went back then for the axe which +he had dropped in the timber clump. + +There was a great drumming in Jolly Roger's head, and for a time he +failed even to hear Peter yelping at their side, for all the world was +drowned in those moments by the breaking sobs in Nada's breath and the +wild thrill of her body in his arms; and he saw nothing but the +upturned face, crushed close against his breast, and the wide-open +eyes, and the lips to kiss. And even Nada's face he seemed to see +through a silvery mist, and he felt her arms strangely about his neck, +as if it was all half like a dream--a dream of the kind that had come +to him beside his campfire. It was a little cry from Nada that drove +the unreality away. + +“Roger--you're--breaking me,” she cried, gasping for her breath in his +arms, yet without giving up the clasp of her own arms about his neck in +the least; and at that he sensed the brutality of his strength, and +held her off a little, looking into her face. + +Pride and happiness and the courage in his heart would have slunk away +could he have seen himself then, as Father John saw him, coming from +the edge of the bush, and as Nada saw him, held there at the end of his +arms. Since the day he had come with Peter to Cragg's Ridge the blade +of a razor had not touched his face, and his beard was like a brush, +and with it his hair unkempt and straggling; and his eyes were red from +sleeplessness and the haunting of that grim despair which had dogged +his footsteps. + +But these things Nada did not see. Or, if she did, there must have been +something beautiful about them for her. For it was not a little girl, +but a woman who was standing there before Jolly Roger now--Nada grown +older, very much older it seemed to McKay, and taller, with her hair no +longer rioting free about her, but gathered up in a wonderful way on +the crown of her head. This change McKay discovered as she stood there, +and it swept upon him all in a moment, and with it the prick of +something swift and terrorizing inside him. She was not the little girl +of Cragg's Ridge. She was a WOMAN. In a year had come this miracle of +change, and it frightened him, for such a creature as this that stood +before him now Jed Hawkins would never have dared to curse or beat, and +he--Roger McKay--was afraid to gather her back into his arms again. + +And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her +shoulders, he saw that which had not changed--the wonder-light in her +eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other day in +Indian Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and squeaked on +the pantry shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay with his broken +leg in the going down of the sun. And as he hesitated it was Nada +herself who came into his arms, and laid her head on his breast, and +trembled and laughed and cried there, while Father John came up and +patted her shoulder, and smiled happily at McKay, and then went on to +the cabin in the clearing. For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed +his face in Nada's hair, and neither said a word, but there was a +strange throbbing of their hearts together, and after a little Nada +reached up a hand to his cheek, and stroked it tenderly, bristly beard +and all. + +“I'll never let you run away from me again--Mister--Jolly Roger,” she +said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who whispered the +words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also something very +definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious thrill of it as he +raised his face from her hair, and saw once more the sun-filled world +about him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in the +cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical +happening, but more the mysterious FEEL of something impending and very +near. The day following their arrival in the Pashkokogon country his +master seemed to have forgotten him entirely. It was Nada who noticed +him, but even she was different; and Father John went about, overseeing +two Indians whom he kept very busy, his pale, thin face luminous with +an anticipation which roused Peter's curiosity, and kept him watchful. +He was puzzled, too, by the odd actions of the humans about him. The +second morning Nada remained in her room, and Jolly Roger wandered off +into the woods without his breakfast, and Father John ate alone, +smiling gently as he looked at the tightly closed door of Nada's +bedroom. Even Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the sleek-haired Indian woman who +cared for the house, was nervously expectant as she watched for Nada, +and Mistoos, her husband, grunted and grimaced as he carried in from +the edge of the forest many loads of soft evergreens on his shoulders. + +Into the forest Jolly Roger went alone, puffing furiously at his pipe. +He was all a-tremble and his blood seemed to quiver and dance as it ran +through his veins. Since the first rose-flush of dawn he had been +awake, fighting against this upsetting of every nerve that was in him. + +He felt pitiably weak and helpless. But it was the weakness and +helplessness of a happiness too vast for him to measure. It was Nada in +her ragged shoes and dress, with the haunting torture of Jed Hawkins' +brutality in her eyes and face, that he had expected to find, if he +found her at all; someone to fight for, and kill for if necessary, +someone his muscle and brawn would always protect against evil. He had +not dreamed that in these many months with Father John she would change +from “a little kid goin' on eighteen” into--A WOMAN. + +He tried to recall just what he had said to her last night--that he was +still an outlaw, and would always be, no matter how well he lived from +this day on; and that she, now that she had Father John's protection, +was very foolish to care for him, or keep her troth with him, and would +be happier if she could forget what had happened at Cragg's Ridge. + +“You're a WOMAN now,” he said. “A WOMAN--” he had emphasized that--“and +you don't need me any more.” + +And she had looked at him, without speaking, as if reading what was +inside him; and then, with a sudden little laugh, she swiftly pulled +her hair down about her shoulders, and repeated the very words she had +said to him a long time ago--“Without you--I'd want to +die--Mister--Jolly Roger,” and with that she turned and ran into the +cabin, her hair flying riotously, and he had not seen her again since +that moment. + +Since then his heart had behaved like a thing with the fever, and it +was beating swiftly now as he looked at his watch and noted the quick +passing of time. + +Back in the cabin Peter was sniffing at the crack under Nada's door, +and listening to her movement. For a long time he had heard her, but +not once had she opened the door. And he wondered, after that, why +Oosimisk and her husband and Father John piled evergreens all about, +until the cabin looked like the little jackpine trysting-place down at +Cragg's Ridge, even to the soft carpet of grass on the floor, and +flowers scattered all about. + +Hopeless of understanding what it meant, he went outside, and waited in +the warm May-day sun until his master came back through the clearing. +What happened after that puzzled him greatly. When he followed Jolly +Roger into the cabin Mistoos and the Leaf Bud were seated in chairs, +their hands folded, and Father John stood behind a small table on which +lay an open book, and he was looking at his watch when they came in. He +nodded, and smiled, and very clearly Peter saw his master gulp, as if +swallowing something that was in his throat. And the ruddiness had gone +completely out of his smooth-shaven cheeks. It was the first time Peter +had seen his master so clearly afraid, and from his burrow in the +evergreens he growled under his breath, eyeing the open door with +sudden thought of an enemy. + +And then Father John was tapping at Nada's door. + +He went back to the table and waited, and as the knob of the door +turned very slowly Jolly Roger swallowed again, and took a step toward +it. It opened, and Nada stood there. And Jolly Roger gave a little cry, +so low that Peter could just hear it, as he held out his hands to her. + +For Nada was no longer the Nada who had come to him in Father John's +clearing. She was the Nada of Cragg's Ridge, the Nada of that wild +night of storm when he had fled into the north. Her hair fell about +her, as in the old days when Peter and she had played together among +the rocks and flowers, and her wedding dress was faded and torn, for it +was the dress she had worn that night of despair when she sent her +message to Peter's master, and on her little feet were shoes broken and +disfigured by her flight in those last hours of her mighty effort to go +with the man she loved. In Father John's eyes, as she stood there, was +a great astonishment; but in Jolly Roger's there came such a joy that, +in answer to it, Nada went straight into his arms and held up her lips +to be kissed. + +Her cheeks were very pink when she stood beside McKay, with Father John +before them, the open book in his hands; and then, as her long lashes +drooped over her eyes, and her breath came a little more quickly, she +saw Peter staring at her questioningly, and made a little motion to him +with her hand. He went to her, and her fingers touched his head as +Father John began speaking. Peter looked up, and listened, and was very +quiet in these moments. Jolly Roger was staring straight at the +balsam-decked wall opposite him, but there was something mighty strong +and proud in the way he held his head, and the fear had gone completely +out of his eyes. And Nada stood very close to him, so that her brown +head lightly touched his shoulder and he could see the silken shimmer +of loose tresses which with sweet intent she had let fall over his arm. +And her little fingers clung tightly to his thumb, as on that blessed +night when they had walked together across the plain below Cragg's +Ridge, with the moon lighting their way. + +Peter, in his dog way, fell a-wondering as he stood there, but kept his +manners and remained still. When it was all over he felt a desire to +show his teeth and growl, for when Father John had kissed Nada, and was +shaking Jolly Roger's hand, he saw his mistress crying in that strange, +silent way he had so often seen her crying in his puppyhood days. Only +now her blue eyes were wide open as she looked at Jolly Roger, and her +cheeks were flushed to the pink of wild rose petals, and her lips were +trembling a little, and there was a tiny something pulsing in her soft +white throat. And all at once there came a smile with the tears, and +Jolly Roger--turning from Father John to find her thus--gathered her +close in his arms, and Peter wagged his tail and went out into the +sun-filled day, where he heard a red squirrel challenging him from a +stub in the edge of the clearing. + +A little later he saw Nada and his master come out of the cabin, and +walk hand in hand across the open into the sweet-smelling timber where +Father John had been chopping with his axe. + +On a fresh-cut log Nada sat down, and McKay sat beside her, still +holding her hand. Not once had he spoken in crossing the open, and it +seemed as though little devils were holding his lips closed now. + +With her eyes looking down at the greening earth under their feet, Nada +said, very softly, + +“Mister--Jolly Roger--are you glad?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +“Glad that I am--your wife?” + +The word drew a great, sobbing breath from him, and looking up suddenly +she saw that he was staring over the balsam-tops into the wonderful +blue of the sky. + +“Your WIFE,” she whispered, touching his shoulder gently with her lips. + +“Yes, I'm glad,” he said. “So glad that I'm--afraid.” + +“Then--if you are glad--please kiss me again.” + +He stood up, and drew her to him, and held her face between his hands +as he kissed her red lips; and after that he kissed her shining hair +again and again, and when he let her go her eyes were a glory of +happiness. + +“And you will never run away from me again?” she demanded, holding him +at arm's length. “Never?” + +“Never!” + +“Then--I want nothing more in this life,” she said, nestling against +him again. “Only you, for ever and ever.” + +Jolly Roger made no answer, but held her a long time in his arms, with +the soft beating of her heart against him, and listened to the twitter +and song of nesting and mating things about them. In this silence she +lay content, until Peter--growing restless--started quietly into the +golden depths of the forest. + +It was Pied-Bot's going, cautious and soft-footed, as if danger and +menace might lurk just ahead of him, that brought another look into +McKay's eyes as Nada's hand crept to his cheek, and rested there. + +“You love me--very much?” + +“More than life,” he answered, and as he spoke he was watching Peter, +questing the soft wind that came whispering from the south. + +Her finger touched his lips, gentle and sweet. + +“And wherever you go, I go--forever and always?” she questioned. + +“Yes, forever and always”--and his eyes were looking through miles upon +miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and pitiless face +of a man who was following his trail, Breault the Ferret. + +His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face against +him. + +“And I pray God you will never be sorry,” he said, still looking +through the miles of forest. + +“No, no--sorry I shall never be,” she cried softly. “Not if we fly, and +go hungry, and fight--and die. Never shall I be sorry--with you,” and +he felt the tightening of her arms. + +And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety +smoothness of her hair, she told him what Father John had already told +him--of her wild effort to overtake him in that night of storm when he +had fled from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's Ridge; and in turn he +told her how Peter came to him in the break of the morning with the +treasure which had saved him heart and soul, and how he had given that +treasure into the keeping of Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston. + +And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time +sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only Yellow +Bird and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she learned how +it was that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in childhood days, and how +he came to be an outlaw for her in later manhood. Her eyes were shining +when he had finished, and her red lips were a-tremble with the +quickness of her breathing. + +“Some day--you'll take me there,” she whispered. “Oh, I'm so proud of +you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day--we'll +go!” + +He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had grown +in his heart. + +“Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me +alive--” + +And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found with +Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston. + +And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon when +they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her room. + +In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had been +preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear again. + +And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of her, +for very completely she had transformed herself into a woman again, +from the softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her head to the +coquettish little slippers that set off her dainty feet. And he saw the +white gleam of soft shoulders and tender arms where once had been rags +and bruises, and held there by the slim beauty and exquisite daintiness +of her he stared like a fool, until suddenly she laughed joyously at +his amaze, and ran to him with wide-open arms, and kissed him so +soundly that Peter cocked up his ears a bit startled. And then she +kissed Father John, and after that was mistress at the table, radiant +in her triumph and her eyes starry with happiness. + +And she was no longer shy in speaking his name, but called him Roger +boldly and many times, and twice during that meal of marvelous +forgetfulness--though long lashes covered her eyes when she spoke +it--she called him 'my husband.' + +In truth she was a woman and for the most part Roger McKay--fighting +man and very strong though he was--looked at her in dumb worship, +speaking little, his heart a-throb, and his brain reeling in the marvel +of what at last had come into his possession. + +And yet, even in this hour of supreme happiness that held him half +mute, there was always lurking in the back of his brain a thought of +Breault, the Ferret. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the star dusk of evening the time came when he spoke his fears to +Father John. + +Nada had gone into her room, taking Peter with her, and out under the +cool of the skies Father John's pale face was turned up to the unending +glory of the firmament, and his lips were whispering a prayer of +gratitude and blessing, when Roger laid a hand gently on his arm. + +“Father,” he said, “it is a wonderful night.” + +“A night of gladness and omen,” replied Father John. “See the stars! +They seem to be alive and rejoicing, and it is not sacrilege to believe +they are, giving you their benediction.” + +“And yet--I am afraid.” + +“Afraid?” + +Father John looked into his eyes, and saw him staring off over the +forest-tops. + +“Yes--afraid for her.” + +Briefly he told him of what had happened on the Barren months ago, and +how he had narrowly escaped Breault in coming away from the burned +country. + +“He is on my trail,” he said, “and tonight he is not very far away.” + +The Missioner's hand rested in a comforting way on his arm. + +“You did not kill Jed Hawkins, my son, and for that we have thanked God +each day and night of our lives--Nada and I. And each evening she has +prayed for you, kneeling at my side, and through every hour of the day +I know she was praying for you in her heart--and I believe in the +answer to prayer such as that, Roger. Her faith, now, is as deep as the +sea. And you, too, must have faith.” + +“She is more precious to me than life--a thousand lives, if I had +them,” whispered Jolly Roger. “If anything should happen--now--” + +“Yes, if the thing you fear should happen, what then?” cried Father +John, faith ringing like a note of inspiration in his low voice. “What, +then, Roger? You did not kill Jed Hawkins. If the law compels you to +pay a price for the errors it believes you have committed, will that +price be so terribly severe?” + +“Prison, Father. Probably five years.” + +Father John laughed softly, the star-glow revealing a radiance in his +face. + +“Five years!” he repeated. “Oh, my boy, my dear boy, what are five +years to pay for such a treasure as that which has come into your +possession tonight? Five short years--only five. And she waiting for +you, proud of you for those very achievements which sent you to prison, +planning for all the future that lies beyond those five short years, +growing sweeter and more beautiful for you as she waits--Roger, is that +a very great sacrifice? Is it too great a price to pay? Five years, and +after that--peace, love, happiness for all time? Is it, Roger?” + +McKay felt his voice tremble as he tried to answer. + +“But she, father--” + +“Yes, yes, I know what you would say,” interrupted Father John gently. +“I argued with her, just as you would have argued, Roger. I appealed to +her reason. I told her that if you returned it would mean prison for +you, and strangely I said that same thing--five years. But I found her +selfish, Roger, very selfish--and set upon her desire beyond all +reason. And it was she who asked first those very questions I have +asked you tonight. 'What are five years?' she demanded of me, defying +my logic. 'What are five years--or ten--or twenty, IF I KNOW I AM TO +HAVE HIM AFTER THAT?' Yes, she was selfish, Roger. Just that great is +her love for you.” + +“Dear God in Heaven,” breathed Jolly Roger, and stopped, his eyes +staring wide at the stars. + +“And after that, after I had given in to her selfishness, Roger, she +planned how we--she and I--would live very near to the place where they +imprisoned you, and how each day some sight or sign should pass between +you, and the baby--” + +“The baby, Father?” + +“Thus it seems she dreams, Roger. She, in the wilfulness of her desire +and selfishness--” + +With a choking cry Roger bowed his face in his hands. + +For a moment Father John was silent. And then he said, so very low that +it was almost a whisper, + +“I have passed many years in the wilderness, Roger, many years trying +to look into the hearts of people--and of God. And this--this love of +Nada's--is the greatest of all the miracles I have witnessed in a life +that is now reaching to its three score and five. Do you see the wonder +of it, son? And does it make you happy, and fearless now?” + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned slowly and went in the +direction of the cabin, leaving Roger alone under the thickening stars. +And McKay's face was like Father John's, filled with a strange and +wonderful radiance when he looked up. But with that light of happiness +was also the fiercer underglow of a great determination. For Nada--for +THE BABY--the worst should not happen; he breathed the thought aloud, +and in the words was a prayer that God might help him, and make +unnecessary the sacrifice from which Father John had taken the sting of +fear. And yet, if that sacrifice came, he saw clearly now that it would +not be a great tragedy but only a brief shadow cast over the undying +happiness in his soul. For they--NADA AND THE BABY--would be +waiting--waiting-- + +Suddenly he was conscious of a sound very near, and he beheld Nada, +taller and slimmer and more beautiful than ever, it seemed to him, in +the starlight. + +“I have told him,” Father John had whispered to her only a moment +before. “I have told him, so that he will not fear prison--either for +himself or for you.” + +And she had come to him quietly, all of the pretty triumph and +playfulness gone, so that she stood like an angel in the soft glow of +the skies, much older than he had ever seen her before, and smiled at +him with a new and wonderful tenderness as she held out her hands to +him. + +Not until she lay in his arms, looking up at him from under her long +lashes, did he dare to speak. And then, + +“Is it true--what Father John has told me?” he asked. + +“It is true,” she whispered, and the silken lashes covered her eyes. + +Her hand crept up to his face in the silence that followed, and rested +there; and with no desire to hear more than the three words she had +spoken he crushed his lips in the sweet coils of her hair, and +together, in that peace ands understanding, they listened to the gentle +whisperings of the night. + +“Roger,” she whispered at last. + +“Yes, my NEWA--” + +“What does that mean, Roger?” + +“It means--beloved--wife” + +“Then I like it. But I shall like the others--one of the others--best.” + +“My--WIFE.” + +“That--that makes me happiest, Roger. Your WIFE. Oh, it is the sweetest +word in the world, that--and--” + +He felt her warm face hide itself softly against his neck. + +“Mother,” he added. + +“Yes--Mother,” she repeated after him in an awed little voice. “Oh, I +have dreamed of Mothers since I have been old enough to dream, Roger! +My Mother--I never had one that I can remember, except in a dream. It +must be wonderful to--to--have a Mother, Roger.” + +“And yet, I think, not quite so wonderful as to BE a Mother, my Nada.” + +“Listen!” she whispered. + +“It is the Leaf Bud singing.” + +“A love song?” + +“Yes, in Cree.” + +She raised her head, so that her eyes were wide open, and looking at +him. + +“Since we came up here all this wonderful world has been promising song +for me, Roger. And since you came back to me it has been +singing--singing--singing--every hour of night and day. Have you ever +dreamed of leaving it, Roger--of going down into that world of towns +and cities of which Father John has told me so much?” + +“Would you like to go there, Nada?” + +“Only to look upon it, and come away. I want to live in the forests, +where I found you. Always and always, Roger.” + +She raised herself on tip-toe, and kissed him. + +“I want to live near Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud--please--Mister Jolly +Roger--I do. And Father John will go with us. And we'll be so happy +there all together, Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud and Giselle and I--oh!” + +His arms had tightened so suddenly that the little cry came from her. + +“And yet--I may have to leave you for a little time, Nada. But it will +not be for long. What are five years, when all life reaches out a +paradise before us? They are nothing--nothing--and will pass swiftly--” + +“Yes, they will pass swiftly,” she said, so gently that scarce did he +hear. + +But on his breast she gave a little sob which would not choke itself +back, a sob which bravely she smiled through a moment later, and which +he--knowing that it was best--made as if he had not heard. + +And so, this night, while Father John and Peter waited and watched in +the cabin, did they plan their future in the company of the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The Sabbath was a day of glory and peace in the Burntwood country. The +sun rose warm and golden, the birds were singing, and never had the air +seemed sweeter to Father John when he came out quietly from the cabin +and breathed it in the early break of dawn. Best of all he loved this +very beginning of day, before darkness was quite gone, when the world +seemed to be awakening mid sleepy whisperings and sounds came clearly +from a long distance. + +This morning he heard the barking of a dog, a mile away it must have +been, and Peter, who followed close beside him, pricked up his ears at +the sound of it. Father John had noted Peter's vigilance, the cautious +expectancy with which he was always sniffing the air, and the keen +alertness of his eyes and ears. McKay had explained the reason for it. +And this morning, as they made their way down to the pool at the +creekside, Peter's ceaseless watching for danger held a deeper +significance for Father John. All through the night, in spite of his +faith and his words of consolation, he was thinking of the menace which +was following McKay, and which eventually must catch up with him. + +And yet, how short a time was five years! Looking backward, each five +years of his life seemed but a yesterday. It was eight times five years +ago that a sweet-faced girl had first filled his life, as Nada filled +Jolly Roger's now, and through the thirty years since he had lost her +he could still hear her voice as clearly as though he had held her in +his arms only a few hours ago, so swift had been the passing of time. +But looking ahead, and not backward, five years seemed an eternity of +time, and the dread of it was in Father John's heart as he stood at the +side of the pool, with the first pink glow of sunrise coming to him +over the forest-tops. + +Five years, and he was an old man now. A long and dreary wait it would +be for him. But for youth, the glorious youth of Roger and Nada, it +would seem very short when in later years they looked back upon it. And +for a time as he contemplated the long span of life that lay behind +him, and the briefness of that which lay ahead, a yearning selfishness +possessed the soul of Father John, an almost savage desire to hold +those five years away from the violation of the law--not alone for +Nada's sake and Roger McKay's--but for his own. In this twilight of a +tragic life a great happiness had come to him in the love of these two, +and thought of its menace, its desecration by a pitiless and mistaken +justice, roused in him something that was more like the soul of a +fighting man than the spirit of a missioner of God. + +Vainly he tried to stamp out the evil of this resentment, for evil he +believed it to be. And shame possessed him when he saw the sweet glory +in Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness that was in Roger +McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, and the hidden fear +which he could not vanquish. + +And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, being +Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and he preached +to them in the little mission house which they had helped him to build +of logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in Cree, and partly in +English, and his message was one of hope and inspiration, pointing out +the silver linings that always lay beyond the darkness of clouds. To +McKay, holding Nada's hand in his own as they listened, Father John's +words brought a great and comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and +voice as she led in Cree the song, “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” he heard +and saw the living fire of that faith, and had Breault come in through +the open doorway then he would have accepted him calmly as the +beginning of that sacrifice which he had made up his mind to make. + +In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John +heard again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of +questions about her, and for the first time the Missioner learned of +the inspiration which the Indian woman's sorcery had been to Jolly +Roger. + +“It was foolish,” McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and faith +which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. “But--it helped me.” + +“It wasn't foolish,” replied Nada quickly. “Yellow Bird DID come to me. +And--SHE KNEW.” + +“No true faith is folly,” said Father John, in his soft, low voice. +“The great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was inspired by a +great confidence, and confidence and faith give to the mind a power +which it is utterly incapable of possessing without them. I believe in +the mind, children. I believe that in some day to come it will reach +those heights where it will unlock the mystery of life itself to us. I +have seen many strange things in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, +and not the least of these have been the achievements of the primitive +mind. And it seems to me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that +has come true. And has it occurred to you--” + +He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear in +his heart was driving him to say these things. + +“What, father,” questioned Nada, bending toward him. + +“I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost childish +curiosity, and you will laugh at me, my dear. I am wondering if it has +occurred to Roger the mysterious 'Country Beyond' of which Yellow Bird +dreamed might be the great country down there--south--BEYOND THE +BORDER--the United States?” + +Something which he could not control seemed to drive the words from his +lips, and in an instant he saw that Nada had seized upon their +significance. Her eyes widened. The blue in them grew darker, and Roger +observed her fingers grip suddenly in the softness of her dress as she +turned from Father John to look at him. + +“Or--it might be China, or Africa, or the South Seas,” he tried to +laugh, remembering his old visions. “It might be--anywhere.” + +Nada's lips trembled, as if she were about to speak; and then very +quietly she sat, with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and Father +John knew she was not expressing the thought in her heart when she said, + +“Someday I want to tell Yellow Bird how much I love her.” + +Now in these hours since he and his master had come to the Burntwood it +seemed to Peter that he had lost something very great, for in his +happiness McKay had taken but scant notice of him, and Nada seemed to +have found a greater joy than that which a long time ago she had found +in his comradeship. So now, as she saw him lying in his loneliness a +short distance away, Nada suddenly ran to him, and together they went +into the thick screen of the balsams, Peter yipping joyously, and Nada +without so much as turning her head in the direction of Roger and +Father John. But even in that bird-like swiftness with which she had +left them, Father John had caught the look in her eyes. + +“I have made a mistake,” he confessed humbly. “I have sinned, because +in her I have roused the temptation to urge you to fly away with +her--down there--south. She is a woman, and being a woman she has +infinite faith in Yellow Bird, for Yellow Bird helped to give you to +her. She believes--” + +“And I--I--also believe,” said McKay, staring at the green balsams. + +“And yet--it is better for you to remain. God means that judgment and +happiness should come in their turn.” + +Jolly Roger rose to his feet, facing the south. + +“It is a temptation, father. It would be hard to give her up--now. If +Breault would only wait a little while. But if he comes--NOW--” + +He walked away slowly, following through the balsams where Nada and +Peter had gone. Father John watched him go, and a trembling smile came +to his lips when he was alone. In his heart he knew he was a coward, +and that these young people had been stronger than he. For in their +happiness and the faith which he had falsely built up in them they had +resigned themselves to the inevitable, while he, in these moments of +cowardice, had shown them the way to temptation. And yet as he stood +there, looking in the direction they had gone, he felt no remorse +because of what he had done, and a weight seemed to have lifted itself +from his shoulders. + +For a time the more selfish instincts of the man rose in him, fighting +down the sacrificial humility of the great faith of which he was a +messenger. The new sensation thrilled him, and in its thrill he felt +his heart beating a little faster, and hope rising in him. Five years +were a long time--FOR HIM. That was the thought which kept repeating +itself over and over in his brain, and with it came that other thought, +that self-preservation was the first law of existence, and therefore +could not be a sin. Thus did Father John turn traitor to his spoken +words, though his calm and smiling face gave no betrayal of it when +Nada and Roger returned to the cabin an hour later, their arms filled +with red bakneesh vines and early wildflowers. + +Nada's cheeks were as pink as the bakneesh, and her eyes as blue as the +rock-violets she wore on her breast. + +And Father John knew that Jolly Roger was no longer oppressed by the +fear of a menace which he was helpless to oppose, for there was +something very confident in the look of his eyes and the manner in +which they rested upon Nada. + +Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early +evening. He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada again, +hugging his shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him in the old, +excited way. And strange memory of a bundle came back to Peter, for +very quietly, as if unseen ears might be listening to her, Nada +gathered many things in a pile on the table, and made another bundle. +This bundle she thrust under her bed, just as a long time ago she had +thrust a similar bundle under a banksian clump in the meadowland below +Cragg's Ridge. + +Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of Breault. +The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, and Breault +would surely go there before questing from cabin to cabin for his +victim. + +So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making a +sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, saying he +had business at the post that day, and without wakening them had made +an early start. This note Nada read to McKay when they sat at breakfast. + +“Quite frequently he has gone like that,” Nada explained. “He loves the +forests at night--in the light of the moon.” + +“But last night there was no moon,” said Roger. + +“Yes--” + +“And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it was +very dark.” + +“You heard him go?” + +“Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he wrote +that note in the candle-glow.” + +“Roger, what do you mean?” + +McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed her +shining hair and questioning eyes. + +“It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to the +post to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in his heart +he wants us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. For he is sure +that he knows what Yellow Bird meant by 'The Country Beyond.' It is the +great big world outside the forests, a world so big that if need be we +can put ourselves ten thousand miles away from the trails of the +mounted police. That is the thought which is urging him to the post to +look for Breault.” + +Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with +eagerness she said, + +“Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night--and it is under +the bed.” + +He held her more closely. + +“And you are willing to go with me--anywhere?” + +“Yes, anywhere.” + +“To the end of the earth?” + +Her crumpled head nodded against his breast. + +“And leave Father John?” + +“Yes, for you. But I think--sometime--he will come to us.” + +Her fingers touched his cheek. + +“And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part +of the world, Roger.” + +“Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us,” he +laughed happily. + +“I'd love the desert, Roger.” + +“Or an uninhabited island?” + +Against him her head nodded again. + +“I'd love life anywhere--WITH YOU.” + +“Then--we'll go,” he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of the +joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, steadying +his voice until it was almost cold. “But it means giving up everything +you've dreamed of, Nada--these forests you love, Father John, Yellow +Bird, Sun Cloud--” + +“I have only one dream,” she interrupted him softly. + +“And five years will pass very quickly,” he continued. “Possibly it +will not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love will be +free to us forever. Gladly will I remain and take my punishment if in +the end it will make us happier, Nada.” + +“I have only one dream,” she repeated, caressing his cheek with her +hand, “and that is you, Roger. Where-ever you take me I shall be the +happiest woman in the world.” + +“WOMAN,” he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud. + +“Yes, I am a woman--now” + +“And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg's Ridge,” he cried +with sudden passion, crushing her close to him. “I'd lose my life +sooner than I would lose her, Nada--the little girl with flying hair +and strawberry stain on her nose, and who believed so faithfully in the +Man in the Moon. Always I shall worship her as the little goddess who +came down to me from somewhere in heaven!” + +Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John's return, he +saw more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown the +glory of Nada's wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at the +miracle of it. There was something vastly sweet in the change of her. +She was no longer the utterly dependent little thing, possibly caring +for him because he was big and strong and able to protect her; she was +a woman, and loved him as a woman, and not because of fear or +helplessness. And then came the thrilling mystery of another thing. He +found himself, in turn, beginning to depend upon her, and in their +planning her calm decision and quiet reasoning strengthened him with +new confidence and made his heart sing with gladness. With his eyes on +the smooth and velvety coils of hair which she had twisted woman-like +on her head, he said, + +“With your hair like that you are my Margaret of Anjou, and the other +way--with it down you are my little Nada of Cragg's Ridge. And I--I +don't quite understand why God should be so good to me.” + +And this day Peter was trying in his dumb way to analyze the change. +The touch of Nada's hand thrilled him, as it did a long time ago, and +still he sensed the difference. Her voice was even softer when she put +her cheek down to his whiskered face and talked to him, but in it he +missed that which he could not quite bring back clearly through the +lapse of time--the childish comradeship of her. Yet he began to worship +her anew, even more fiercely than he had loved the Nada of old. He was +content now to lie with his nose touching her foot or dress; but when +in the sunset of early evening she went into her room, and came out a +little later with her curling hair clouding her shoulders and breast, +and tied with a faded ribbon she had brought from Cragg's Ridge, he +danced about her, yelping joyously, and she accepted the challenge in a +wild race with him to the edge of the clearing. + +Panting and flushed she ran back to Jolly Roger, and rested in his arms. + +And it was McKay, with his face half hidden in her riotous hair, who +saw a figure come suddenly out of the forest at the far end of the +clearing. It was Father John. He saw him pause for an instant, and then +stagger toward them, swaying as if about to fall. + +The sudden stopping of his breath--the tightening of his arms--drew +Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the little old +Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the clearing. With a cry +she was out of McKay's arms and running toward him. + +Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His face +was tense and his breath came in choking gasps. But he tried to smile +as he clutched a hand at his breast. + +“I have hurried,” he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, “and +I am--winded--” + +He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger. + +“Roger--I have hurried to tell you--Breault is coming. He cannot be far +behind me. Possibly half a mile, or a mile--” + +In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his hands. + +“I find--at last--that I was mistaken, child,” he said, very calmly +now. “I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be taken by +Breault. You must go. There is no time to lose. If Breault does not +stumble off the trail in this gloom he will be here in a few minutes. +Come.” + +Not a word did Nada say as they went to the cabin, and McKay saw her +tense face as pale as an ivory cameo in the twilight. But something in +the up-tilt of her chin and the poise of her head assured him she was +prepared, and unafraid. + +In the cabin the Leaf Bud met them, and to her Nada spoke quickly. +There was understanding between them, and Oosimisk dragged in a filled +pack from the kitchen while Nada ran into her room and came out with +the bundle. + +Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast +throbbing with excitement. + +“There is nothing more to make ready,” she said. “Yellow Bird has been +with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare. We have +everything we need.” + +And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about his +neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face. + +“Father, you will come to us?” she whispered. “You promise that?” + +The Missioner's arms closed about her, and he bowed his face against +her lips and cheek. + +“I pray God that it may be so,” he said. + +Nada's arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came a +warning growl from outside the cabin door. + +“Peter!” she cried. + +In another moment Father John had extinguished the light. + +“Go, my children,” he commanded. “You must be quick. Twenty paces below +the pool is a canoe. I had one of my Indians leave it there yesterday, +and it is ready. Roger--Nada--” + +He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness. + +“God bless you--both! And go south--always south. Now go--go! I think I +hear footsteps--” + +He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with his +pack. Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he fastened +his fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back. + +“Good-bye,” he whispered huskily. “Good-bye--Nada--Roger--” + +A sob came back out of the gloom. + +“Good-bye, father.” + +And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift +footsteps of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing. + +Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him as he +closed the door. + +“It's best for you to stay, Peter,” he tried to explain. “It's best for +you to stay--with me. For I think they are going a far distance, and +will come to a land where you would shrivel up and die. Besides, you +could not go in the canoe. So be good, and remain with me, Peter--with +me--” + +And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a strange +little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in darkness for +a light. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a match +and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John's waxen face grew out +of the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and scratched with, his paws +at the closed door. + +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark eyes +staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe. + +In the old Missioner's face came a trembling smile and a look of +triumph as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze. + +“All is well, Oosimisk,” he said quietly, speaking in Cree. “They are +safely away, and will not be caught. Continue with your duties and let +no one see that anything unusual has happened. Breault will come very +soon.” + +He straightened his shoulders, as if to give himself confidence and +strength, and then he called Peter, and comforted the dog whose master +and mistress were fleeing through the dark. + +“They have reached the pool,” he said, seating himself and holding +Peter's shaggy head between his hands. “They have just about reached +the pool, and Breault must be entering the clearing on the other side. +Roger cannot miss the canoe--twenty paces down and with nothing to +shadow it overhead; I think he has found it by this time, and in +another half minute they will be off. And it is very black down the +Burntwood, with deep timber close to the water, and for many miles no +man can follow by night along its shores.” Suddenly his hands +tightened, and the Leaf Bud, watching him slyly, saw the last of +suspense go out of his face. “And now--they are safe,” he cried +exultantly. “They must be on their way--and Breault has not come across +the clearing!” + +He rose to his feet, and began pacing back and forth, while Peter +sniffed yearningly at the door again. Oosimisk, with the caution of her +race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, and +Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the +man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he +walked back and forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps. +Peter, with a sigh, gave up his scratching and settled himself on his +haunches close to Nada's door. + +Father John, in passing him, paused to lay a hand on his head. + +“Some day it may please God to let us go to them,” he consoled, +speaking for himself even more than for Peter. “Some day, when they are +far away--and safe.” + +He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf Bud +came a low, swift word of warning. + +She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean rattled +under her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing even as the +cabin door opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in it. + +The unexpectedness of his appearance, without the sound of a warning +footstep outside, was amazing even to Peter. In the open door he stood +for a moment, his thin, ferret-like face standing out against the black +background of the night, and his strange eyes, apparently half closed +yet bright as diamonds, sweeping the interior without effort but with +the quickness of lightning. + +There was something deadly and foreboding about him as he stood here, +and Peter growled low in his throat. Recognition flashed upon him in an +instant. It was the man of the snow-dune, away up on the Barren, the +man whom he had mistrusted from the beginning, and from whom they had +fled into the face of the Big Storm months ago. His mind worked +swiftly, even as swiftly as Breault's in its way, and without any +process of reasoning he sensed menace and enmity in this man's +appearance, and associated with it the mysterious flight of Jolly Roger +and Nada. + +Breault had nodded, without speaking. Then his eyes rested on Peter, +and his face broke into a twisted sort of smile. It was not altogether +unpleasant, yet was there something about it which made one shiver. It +spoke the character of the man, pitiless, determined, omniscient +almost, as if the spirit of a grim and unrelenting fate walked with him. + +Again he nodded, and held out a hand. + +“Peter,” he called. “Come here, Peter!” + +Peter flattened his ears a fraction of an inch, but did not move. Even +that fraction of an inch caught Breault's keen eyes. + +“Still a one-man dog,” he observed, stepping well inside the cabin, and +facing Father John. “Where is McKay, Father?” + +He had not closed the door, and Peter saw his chance. The Leaf Bud saw +him pass like a shot out into the night, but as he went she made no +effort to call him back, for her ears were wide open as Breault +repeated his question, + +“Where is McKay, Father?” + +Peter heard the man-hunter's voice from the darkness outside. For +barely an instant he paused, picking up the fresh scent of Nada and +Jolly Roger. It was easy to follow--straight to the pool, and from the +pool twenty paces down-stream, where a little finger of sand and +pebbles had been formed by the eddies. In this bar was fresh imprint of +the canoe, and here the footprints ended. + +Peter whimpered, peering into the tunnel of darkness between forest +trees, where the water rippled and gurgled softly on its way into a +deeper and more tangled wilderness. He waded belly-deep into the +current, half determined to swim; and then he waited, listening +intently, but could hear no sound of voice or paddle stroke. + +Yet he knew Jolly Roger and Nada could not be far away. + +He returned to the edge of the pool, and began sniffing his way +down-stream, pausing every two or three minutes to listen. Now and then +he caught the presence of those he sought, in the air, but those +intervals in which he stopped to catch sound of voice or paddle lost +him time, so the canoe was traveling faster than Peter. + +Half way between himself and the bow of that canoe McKay could dimly +make out Nada's pale face in the star glow that filtered like a mist +through the tops of the close-hanging trees. + +Scarcely above his breath he laughed in joyous confidence. + +“At last my dream is coming true, Nada,” he whispered. “You are mine. +And we are going into another world. And no one will ever find us +there--no one but Father John, when we send him word. You are not +afraid?” + +Her voice trembled a little in the gloom. + +“No, I am not afraid. But it is dark--so dark--” + +“The moon will be with us again in a few nights--your moon, with the +Old Man smiling down on us. I know how the Man in the Moon must feel +when he's on the other side of the world, and can't see you, Nada.” + +Her silence made him lean toward her, striving to get a better view of +her face where the starlight broke through an opening in the tree-tops. + +And in that moment he heard a little breath that was almost a sob. + +“It's Peter,” she said, before he could speak. “Oh, Roger, why didn't +we bring Peter?” + +“Possibly--we should have,” he replied, skipping a stroke with his +paddle. “But I think we have done the best thing for Peter. He is a +wilderness dog, and has never known anything different. Over there, +where we are going--” + +“I understand. And some day, Father John will bring him?” + +“Yes. He has promised that. Peter will come to us when Father John +comes.” + +She had turned, looking into the pit-gloom ahead of them, so dark that +the canoe seemed about to drive against a wall. Under its bow the water +gurgled like oil. + +“We are entering the big cedar swamp,” he explained. “It is like Blind +Man's Buff, isn't it? Can you see?” + +“Not beyond the bow of the canoe, Roger.” + +“Work back to me,” he said, “very carefully.” + +She came, obediently. + +“Now turn slowly, so that you face the bow, and lean back with your +head against my knees.” + +This also, she did. + +“This is much nicer,” she whispered, nestling her head comfortably +against him. “So much nicer.” + +By leaning over until his back nearly cracked he was able to find her +lips in the darkness. + +“I was thinking of the brush that overhangs the stream,” he explained +when he had straightened himself. “Sitting up as you were it might have +caused you hurt.” + +There was a little silence between them, in which his paddle caught +again its slow and steady rhythm. Then, + +“Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger--and of the hurt it might +cause me?” + +“Yes, only of that,” and he chuckled softly. + +“Then I don't think it nice here at all,” she complained. “I shall sit +up straight so the brush may put my eyes out!” + +But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to +interrupt his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant with +her hand. + +“It's there,” she purled, as if utterly comforted. “I wanted to be +sure--it is so dark!” + +With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic tunnel +ahead, they were happy. Staring straight before him, though utterly +unable to see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and in every +breath he drew the exquisite thrill of a miracle. And the same thrill +swept into him and through him from the softly breathing body of Nada. +Light or darkness made no difference now. Together, inseparable from +this time forth, they had started on the one great adventure of their +lives, and for them fear had ceased to exist. The night sheltered them. +Its very blackness held in its embrace a warmth of welcome and of +unending hope. Twice in the next half hour he put his hand to Nada's +face, and each time she pressed her lips against it, sweet with that +confidence which so completely possessed her soul. + +Very slowly they moved through the swamp, for because of the gloom his +paddle-strokes were exceedingly short, and he was feeling his way. +Frequently he ran into brush, or struck the boggy shore, and +occasionally Nada would hold lighted matches while he extricated the +canoe from tree-tops and driftwood that impeded the way. He loved the +brief glimpses he caught of her face in the match-glow, and twice he +deliberately wasted the tiny flares that he might hold the vision of +her a little longer. + +At last he began to feel the pulse of a current against his paddle, and +soon after that the star-mist began filtering through the thinning +tree-tops again, so that he knew they were almost through the swamp. +Another half-hour and they were free of it, with a clear sky overhead +and the cheering song of running water on both sides of them. + +Nada sat up, and it was now so light that he could see the soft shimmer +of her hair in the starlight. He also saw a pretty little grimace in +her face, even as she smiled at him. + +“I--I can't move,” she exclaimed. “UGH! my feet are asleep--” + +“We'll go ashore and stretch ourselves,” said McKay, who had looked at +his watch in the light of the last match. “We've two hours the start of +Breault, and there is no other canoe.” + +He began watching the shore closely, and it was not long before he made +out the white smoothness of a sandbar on their right. Here they landed +and for half an hour rested their cramped limbs. + +Then they went on, and in his heart McKay blessed the deep swamp that +lay between them and Breault. + +“I don't think he can make it without a canoe, even if he guesses we +went this way,” he explained to Nada. “And that means--we are safe.” + +There was a cheery ring in his voice which would have changed to the +deadness of cold iron could he have looked back into that sluggish pit +of the Burntwood through which they had come, or could he have seen +into the heart of the still blacker swamp. + +For through the swamp, feeling his way in the black abysses and amid +the monster-ghosts of darkness, came Peter. + +And down the Burntwood, between the boggy mucklips of the swamp, a man +followed with slow but deadly surety, guiding with a long pole two +light cedar timbers which he had lashed together with wire, and which +bore him safely and in triumph where the canoe had gone before him. + +This man was Breault, the man-hunter. + +“The swamp will hold him!” McKay was saying again, exultantly. “Even if +he guesses our way, the swamp will hold him back, Nada.” + +“But he won't know the way we have come,” cried Nada, the faith in her +voice answering his own. “Father John will guide him in another +direction.” + +Back in the pit-gloom, with a grim smile now and then relaxing the +tight-set compression of his thin lips, and with eyes that stared like +a night-owl's into the gloom ahead of him, Breault poled steadily on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Dripping from the bog-holes and lathered with mud, it was the mystery +of Breault's noiseless presence somewhere near him in the still night +that drew Peter continually deeper into the swamp. + +Half a dozen times he caught the scent of him in a quiet air that +seemed only now and then to rise up in his face softly, as if stirred +by butterflies' wings. Always it came from ahead, and Peter's mind +worked swiftly to the decision that where Breault was there also would +be Nada and Jolly Roger. Yet he caught the scent of neither of these +two, and that puzzled him. + +Many times he found himself at the edge of the black lip of water, but +never quite at the right time to see a shadow in its darkness, or hear +the sound of Breault's pole. + +But in the swamp, as he went on, he saw nothing but shadow, and heard +weird and nameless sounds which made his blood creep, even though his +courage was now full-grown within him. + +He was not frightened at the ugly sputter of the owls, as in the days +of old. Their throaty menace and snapping beaks did not stop him nor +turn him aside. The slashing scrape of claws in the bark of trees and +the occasional crackling of brush were matters of intimate knowledge, +and he gave but little attention to them in his eagerness to reach +those who had gone ahead of him. What troubled him, and filled his eyes +with sudden red glares, were the oily gurgles of the pitfalls which +tried to suck him down; the laughing madness of muck that held him as +if living things were in it, and which spluttered and coughed when he +freed himself. + +Half blinded at times, so that even the black shadows were blotted out, +he went on. And at last, coming again to the edge of the stream, he +heard a new kind of sound--the slow, steady dipping of Breault's pole. + +He hurried on, finding harder ground under his feet, and came +noiselessly abreast of the man on his raft of cedar timbers. He could +almost hear his breathing. And very faintly he could see in the vast +gloom a shadow--a shadow that moved slowly against the background of a +still deeper shadow beyond. + +But there was no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and whatever desire had +risen in him to make himself known was smothered by caution and +suspicion. After this he did not go ahead of Breault, but kept behind +him or abreast of him, within sound of the dipping pole. And every +minute his heart thumped expectantly, and he sniffed the new air for +signs of those he most desired to find. + +Dawn was breaking in the sky when they came out of the swamp, and the +first flush of the sun was lighting up the east when Breault headed his +improvised craft for the sandbar upon which Nada and McKay had rested +many hours before. + +Breault was tired, but his eyes lighted up when he saw the footprints +in the sand, and he chuckled--almost good humoredly. As a matter of +fact he was in a good humor. But one would not have reckoned it as such +in Breault. A hard man, the forests called him; a man with the hunting +instincts of the fox and the wolf and the merciless persistency of the +weazel--a man who lived his code to the last letter of the law, without +pity and without favoritism. At least so he was judged, and his hard, +narrow eyes, his thin lips and his cynically lined face seldom betrayed +the better thoughts within him, if he possessed any at all. In the +Service he was regarded as a humanly perfect mechanism, a bit of +machinery that never failed, the dreaded Nemesis to be set on the trail +of a wrong-doer when all others had failed. + +But this morning, with every bone and muscle in him aching from his +long night of tedious exertion, the chuckle grew into a laugh as he +looked upon the telltale signs in the sand. + +He stretched himself and his tired bones cracked. + +Breault did not think aloud. But he was saying to himself. + +“There, against that rock, Jolly Roger McKay sat There is the imprint +of only one person sitting. The girl was in his arms. Here are little +holes where her outstretched heels rested in the sand. She is wearing +shoes and not moccasins.” + +He grinned as he drew his service pack from the two-log cedar raft. + +“Plenty of time now,” he continued to think. “They are mine this +time--sure. They believe they have fooled me, and they haven't. That's +fatal. Always.” + +Not infrequently, when entirely alone, Breault let a little part of +himself loose, as if freeing a prisoner from bondage for a short time. +For instance, he whistled. It was not an unpleasant whistle, but rather +oddly reminiscent of tender things he remembered away back somewhere; +and as he fried his bacon and steamed a handful of desiccated potatoes +he hummed a song, also rather pleasant to ears that were as closely +attentive as Peter's. + +For Peter had crept up through a tangle of ground-scrub and lay not +twenty paces away, smelling of the bacon hungrily, and watching +intently from his concealment. + +Peter knew the fox and the wolf, but he did not know Breault, and he +did not guess why the man's whistling grew a little louder, nor why his +humming voice grew stronger. But after a time, with his back and not +his face toward Peter, Breault called in the most natural and +matter-of-fact voice in the world, + +“Come on, Peter. Breakfast is ready!” + +Peter's jaws dropped in amazement. And as Breault turned toward him, +his thin face a-grin, and continued to invite him in a most +companionable way, he forgot his concealment entirely and stood up +straight, ready either to fight or fly. + +Breault tossed him a dripping slice of bacon which he held in his hand. +It fell within a foot of Peter's nose, and Peter was ravenously hungry. +The delicious odor of it demoralized his senses and his caution. For a +few seconds he resisted, then thrust himself out toward it an inch at a +time, made a sudden grab, and swallowed it at one gulp. + +Breault laughed outright, and with the first of the sun striking into +his face he did not look like an enemy to Peter. + +A second slice of bacon followed the first, and then a third--until +Breault was frying another mess over the fire. + +“That's partial payment for what you did up on the Barren,” he was +saying inside himself. “If it hadn't been for you--” + +He didn't even imagine the rest. Nor after that did he pay the +slightest attention to Peter. For Breault knew dogs possibly even +better than he knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give Peter +to understand that he was interested in him at all. He washed his +dishes, whistling and humming, reloaded his pack on the raft, and once +more began poling his way downstream. + +Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but felt a +further sense of abandonment. After all, this man was not his enemy, +and he was leaving him as his master and mistress had left him. He +whined. And Breault was not out of sight when he trotted down to the +sandbar, and quickly found the scent of Nada and McKay. Purposely +Breault had left a lump of desiccated potato as big as his fist, and +this Peter ate as ravenously as he had eaten the bacon. Then, just as +Breault knew he would do, he began following the raft. + +Breault did not hurry, and he did not rest. There was something almost +mechanically certain in his slow but steady progress, though he knew it +was possible for the canoe to outdistance him three to one. He was +missing nothing along the shore. Three times during the forenoon he saw +where the canoe had landed, and he chuckled each time, thinking of the +old story of the tortoise and the hare. He stopped for not more than +two or three minutes at each of these places, and was then on his way +again. + +Peter was fascinated by the unexcited persistency of the man's +movement. He followed it, watched it, and became more and more +interested in the unvarying monotony of it. There were the same +up-and-down strokes of the long pole, the slight swaying of the +upstanding body, the same eddy behind the cedar logs--and occasionally +wisps of smoke floating behind when the pursuer smoked his pipe. Not +once did Peter see Breault turn his head to look behind him. Yet +Breault was seeing everything. Five times that morning he saw Peter, +but not once did he make a sign or call to him. + +He drove his raft ashore at twelve o'clock to prepare his dinner, and +after he had built a fire, and his cooking things were scattered about, +he straightened himself up and called in that same matter-of-fact way, +as if expecting an immediate response, + +“Here, Peter!--Peter!--Come in, Boy!” + +And Peter came. Fighting against the last instinct that held him back +he first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at Breault. +Breault paid no attention to him for a few moments, but sliced his +bacon. When the perfume of the cooking meat reached Peter's nose he +edged himself a little nearer, and with a whimpering sigh flattened +himself on his belly. + +Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, + +“Hungry again, Peter?” he inquired casually. + +He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over from +breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the strips to +Peter. As he did this he was thinking to himself, + +“Why am I doing this? I don't want the dog. He will be a nuisance. He +will eat my grub. But it's fair. I'm paying a debt. He helped to save +me up on the Barren.” + +Thus did Breault, the man without mercy, the Nemesis, briefly analyze +the matter. And he cooked five pieces of bacon for Peter. + +During the rest of that day Peter made no effort to keep himself in +concealment as he followed Breault and his raft. This afternoon Breault +shot a fawn, and when he made camp that night both he and Peter feasted +on fresh meat. This broke down the last of Peter's suspicion, and +Breault laid a hand on his head. He did not particularly like the feel +of the hand, but he tolerated it, and Breault grunted aloud, with a +note of commendation in his hard voice. + +“A one-man dog--never anything else.” + +Half a dozen times during the day Peter had found the scent of Nada and +Roger where they had come ashore, and from this night on he associated +Breault as a necessary agent in his search for them. And with Breault +he went, instinctively guessing the truth. + +The next day they found where Nada and McKay had abandoned the canoe, +and had struck south through the wilderness. This pleased Breault, who +was tired of his poling. This third night there was a new moon, and +something about it stirred in Peter an impulse to run ahead and +overtake those he was seeking. But a still strong instinct held him to +Breault. + +Tonight Breault slept like a dead man on his cedar boughs. He was up +and had a fire built an hour before dawn, and with the first gray +streaking of day was on the trail again. He made no further effort to +follow signs of the pursued, for that was a hopeless task. But he knew +how McKay was heading, and he traveled swiftly, figuring to cover twice +the distance that Nada might travel in the same given time. It was +three o'clock in the afternoon when he came to a great ridge, and on +its highest pinnacle he stopped. + +Peter had grown restless again, and a little more suspicious of +Breault. He was not afraid of him, but all that day he had found no +scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and slowly the conviction was impinging +itself upon him that he should seek for himself in the wilderness. + +Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. + +“I'll keep my eye on the dog,” he thought. “He has a nose, and an +uncanny sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. I +believe McKay and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they have +traveled more slowly than I thought, and haven't passed this ridge; or +it may be they are down there, in the plain. If so I should catch sign +of smoke or fire--in time.” + +For an hour he kept watch over the plain through his binoculars, +seeking for a wisp of smoke that might rise at any time over the +treetops. He did not lose sight of Peter, questing out in widening +circles below him. And then, quite unexpectedly, something happened. In +the edge of a tiny meadow an eighth of a mile away Peter was acting +strangely. He was nosing the ground, gulping the wind, twisting eagerly +back and forth. Then he set out, steadily and with unmistakable +decision, south and west. + +In a flash Breault was on his feet, had caught up his pack, and was +running for the meadow. And there he found something in the velvety +softness of the earth which brought a grim smile to his thin lips as +he, too, set out south and west. + +The scent he had found, hours old, drew Peter on until in the edge of +the dusk of evening it brought him to a foot-worn trail leading to the +Hudson's Bay Company post many miles south. In this path, beaten by the +feet of generations of forest dwellers, the hard heels of McKay's boots +had made their imprint, and after this the scent was clearer under +Peter's nose. But with forest-bred caution he still traveled slowly, +though his blood was burning like a pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost +as swiftly followed Breault behind him. + +Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, +lighting his way between the two walls of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran under +deep forests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch of the +Nelson River flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to meet the +promise of day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, stirring +sleepily to the pulse of an awakening earth. Through it came the first +low twitter of birdsong, a sound that seemed to swell and grow until it +filled the world. Yet was it still a sound of sleep, of half +wakefulness, and the mist was thinning away when, a ruffled little +breast sent out its full throat-song from the tip of a silver birch +that overhung the stream. + +The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was no +stir of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there had been +much to wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. But the girl +was no longer there to sing back at him. The cedar and balsam shelter +dripped with morning dew, the place where fire had been was black and +dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song in +triumph. + +Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him. She +lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsong +seemed to come to her from a great distance away. She smiled, and her +lips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was about to answer it. And +then the song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she +sank back into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a +long time, and out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag +her. + +There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and she +opened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of Jolly +Roger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he was not +looking at her. It must be late, she thought, for the light was strong +in his face, warm with the first golden flow of the sun. She smiled, +and sat up, and shook her soft curls with a happy little laugh. + +“Roger--” + +And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she saw +Peter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew her +breath short and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through her heart. + +Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in from the +timber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying them with an +odd smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this man was Breault. + +There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat there, in +spite of the fact that for a few moments he neither spoke nor moved. +His eyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, and his lips were +like the blades of two knives set together. Yet he was smiling, or half +smiling, not in a comforting or humorous way, but with exultation and +triumph. From looking at him one would never have guessed that Breault +loved his joke. + +He nodded. + +“Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And--good morning, Mrs. Jolly Roger +McKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is duty. I am +Breault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police.” + +McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin face +widened. + +“I know, it's hard,” he said. “But you've got Peter to thank for it. +Peter led me to you.” + +He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with his +automatic. + +“Would you mind stepping out, McKay?” he asked. + +In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, and +Nada rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands. + +“No need of those things, Breault,” he said. “I'll go peaceably.” + +“Still--it's safer,” argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. +“Hold out one hand, please--” + +The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. + +“I'm Breault--not Terence Cassidy,” he chuckled. “Never take a chance, +you know. Never!” + +Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet +snapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin. + +“Got you both now, haven't I?” he gloated. “Can't get away, can you?” + He put his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. “How do you like married +life, Mrs. Jolly Roger?” + +McKay's face was whiter than Nada's. + +“You coward!” he spoke in a low, quiet voice. “You low-down miserable +coward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean you are going to +keep my wife ironed like this?” + +“Sure,” said Breault. “I'm going to make you pay for some of the +trouble I've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, you +know. And a woman, too. And probably you've lied to her like the very +devil.” + +“He hasn't!” protested Nada fiercely. “You're a--a--” + +“Say it,” nodded Breault good humoredly. “By all means say it, Mrs. +Jolly Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you,” and while he +waited he loaded his pipe and lighted it. + +“You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with good +friends like you,” he apologized cynically. “In other words you're a +couple of hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of evidence about +you. He says that you, McKay, should be hung the moment we catch you. +He warned me not to take a chance--that you'd slit my throat in the +dark without a prick of conscience. And I'm a valuable man in the +Service. It can't afford to lose me.” + +McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer. + +“Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things,” Breault +went on. “And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we can have +breakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He saved us up +on the Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about that?” + +He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of birchbark +which he had already placed under dry cedar wood which McKay had +gathered the preceding evening. + +“That's where MY trouble began--up there on the Barren, Mrs. Jolly +Roger,” he continued, ignoring McKay. “You see the three of us, +Superintendent Tavish, and Porter--who is now his son-in-law--and I had +a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever in the +history of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of a husband of +yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's only a dog. But +McKay is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful opportunity of dying +in an unusual way by hunting us up and dragging us into his shelter. A +shabby trick, don't you think? And inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish is +about the biggest man in the Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, and +Miss Tavish was saved along with us--why, they reckoned something ought +to be done about it.” + +Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel to +the fire. + +“And so--” + +He rose and stood before them again. + +“And so--they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running you +down with a pardon, McKay--a pardon forgiving you for all your sins, +forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!” + +He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, and +held it out now--not to McKay--but to Nada. + +Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile still on +his lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold sort of laughter, +it was as if Breault tortured them with a last horrible joke. Then, +suddenly, Nada seized the envelope and tore it open, while McKay stared +at Breault, believing, and yet not daring to speak. + +It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, +that told him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her +hand she smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came +up grinning behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in +the handcuffs. + +“I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you,” he +said, attending to the fire again. “For instance, that red-headed +good-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building a four-room +bungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will be finished by the +time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow Bird, and a redskin who +calls himself Slim Buck, sent word that you will always be welcome in +their hunting grounds. And a pretty little thing named Sun Cloud sent +as many kisses as there are leaves on the trees--” + +[Illustration: “--a squaw named Yellow Bird send word that you would +be welcome.”] + +He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, glorious +eyes of the girl upon him. + +“But the funniest thing of all is the baby,” he went on, preparing to +slice bacon. “They're going to have one pretty soon--Cassidy's wife, I +mean. They've given it a name already. If it's a boy it's Roger--if +it's a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, +aren't they? A couple of young fools--” + +Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life of +François Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in a pair +of arms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and pitiless +mouth a pair of soft red lips pressed for a single thrilling instant. +“Well, I'll be damned,” he gasped, dropping his bacon and staggering to +his feet like a man who had been shot. “I'll be--CUSSED!” + +And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young spruce at +the edge of the timber, without saying another word or once looking +behind him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly Roger and Peter +waited, but François Breault did not return. For a strange and +unaccountable man was he, a hard and pitiless man and a deadly hunter +who knew no fear. Yet the wilderness swallowed him, a coward at +last--running away from the two red lips that had kissed him. + +So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of mercy; +and at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew that +something glad had happened, and offered up its gratitude in a sudden +burst of song. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + +***** This file should be named 4743-0.txt or 4743-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4743/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/4743-0.zip b/4743-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..83a4fae --- /dev/null +++ b/4743-0.zip diff --git a/4743-8.txt b/4743-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9461009 --- /dev/null +++ b/4743-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9280 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Country Beyond + A Romance of the Wilderness + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Posting Date: July 1, 2009 [EBook #4743] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 12, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by +Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "We'll make it, Peter," she whispered.] + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + +A ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +AUTHOR OF THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN, THE FLAMING FOREST, ETC. + +JTABLE 5 23 1 + + +List of Illustrations + + +"We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +"I've come to tell you things, Nada. I've been living a lie." + +They hurried to the camp, the children racing ahead to tell the news. + +"--a squaw named Yellow Bird sent word that you would be welcome." + + + + + +A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty +battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a +million people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in +the history of human lives; yet these things Peter did not know. + + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Not far from the rugged and storm-whipped north shore of Lake Superior, +and south of the Kaministiqua, yet not as far south as the Rainy River +waterway, there lay a paradise lost in the heart of a wilderness +world--and in that paradise "a little corner of hell." + +That was what the girl had called it once upon a time, when sobbing out +the shame and the agony of it to herself. That was before Peter had +come to leaven the drab of her life. But the hell was still there. + +One would not have guessed its existence, standing at the bald top of +Cragg's Ridge this wonderful thirtieth day of May. In the whiteness of +winter one could look off over a hundred square miles of freezing +forest and swamp and river country, with the gleam of ice-covered lakes +here and there, fringed by their black spruce and cedar and balsam--a +country of storm, of deep snows, and men and women whose blood ran red +with the thrill that the hardship and the never-ending adventure of the +wild. + +But this was spring. And such a spring as had not come to the Canadian +north country in many years. Until three days ago there had been a +deluge of warm rains, and since then the sun had inundated the land +with the golden warmth of summer. The last chill was gone from the air, +and the last bit of frozen earth and muck from the deepest and blackest +swamps, North, south, east and west the wilderness world was a glory of +bursting life, of springtime mellowing into summer. Ridge upon ridge of +yellows and greens and blacks swept away into the unknown distances +like the billows of a vast sea; and between them lay the valleys and +swamps, the lakes and waterways, glad with the rippling song of running +waters, the sweet scents of early flowering time, and the joyous voice +of all mating creatures. + +Just under Cragg's Ridge lay the paradise, a meadow-like sweep of plain +that reached down to the edge of Clearwater Lake, with clumps of +poplars and white birch and darker tapestries of spruce and balsams +dotting it like islets in a sea of verdant green. The flowers were two +weeks ahead of their time and the sweet perfumes of late June, instead +of May, rose up out of the plain, and already there was nesting in the +velvety splashes of timber. + +In the edge of a clump of this timber, flat on his belly, lay Peter. +The love of adventure was in him, and today he had sallied forth on his +most desperate enterprise. For the first time he had gone alone to the +edge of Clearwater Lake, half a mile away; boldly he had trotted up and +down the white strip of beach where the girl's footprints still +remained in the sand, and defiantly he had yipped at the shimmering +vastness of the water, and at the white gulls circling near him in +quest of dead fish flung ashore. Peter was three months old. Yesterday +he had been a timid pup, shrinking from the bigness and strangeness of +everything about him; but today he had braved the lake trail on his own +nerve, and nothing had dared to come near him in spite of his yipping, +so that a great courage and a great desire were born in him. + +Therefore, in returning, he had paused in the edge of a great clump of +balsams and spruce, and lay flat on his belly, his sharp little eyes +leveled yearningly at the black mystery of its deeper shadows. The bit +of forest filled a cup-like depression in the plain, and was possibly +half a rifle-shot distance from end to end--but to Peter it was as vast +as life itself. And something urged him to go in. + +And as he lay there, desire and indecision struggling for mastery +within him, no power could have told Peter that destinies greater than +his own were working through the soul of the dog that was in him, and +that on his decision to go in or not to go in--on the triumph of +courage or cowardice--there rested the fates of lives greater than his +own, of men, and women, and of little children still unborn. A glass of +wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty battle, +and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a million +people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in the +history of human lives, yet these things Peter did not know--nor that +his greatest hour had come. + +At last he rose from his squatting posture, and stood upon his feet. He +was not a beautiful pup, this Peter Pied-Bot--or Peter Club-foot, as +Jolly Roger McKay--who lived over in the big cedar swamp--had named him +when he gave Peter to the girl. He was, in a way, an accident and a +homely one at that. His father was a blue-blooded fighting Airedale who +had broken from his kennel long enough to commit a MESALLIANCE with a +huge big footed and peace-loving Mackenzie hound--and Peter was the +result. He wore the fiercely bristling whiskers of his Airedale father +at the age of three months; his ears were flappy and big, his tail was +knotted, and his legs were ungainly and loose, with huge feet at the +end of them--so big and heavy that he stumbled frequently, and fell on +his nose. One pitied him at first--and then loved him. For Peter, in +spite of his homeliness, had the two best bloods of all dog creation in +his veins. Yet in a way it was like mixing nitro-glycerin with olive +oil, or dynamite and saltpeter with milk and honey. + +Peter's heart was thumping rapidly as he took a step toward the deeper +shadows. He swallowed hard, as if to clear a knot out of his scrawny +throat. But he had made up his mind. Something was compelling him, and +he would go in. Slowly the gloom engulfed him, and once again the +whimsical spirit of fatalism had chosen a trivial thing to work out its +ends in the romance and tragedy of human lives. + +Grim shadows began to surround Peter, and his ears shot up, and a +scraggly brush stood out along his spine. But he did not bark, as he +had barked along the shore of the lake, and in the green opens. Twice +he looked back to the shimmer of sunshine that was growing more and +more indistinct. As long as he could see this, and knew that his +retreat was open, there still remained a bit of that courage which was +swiftly ebbing in the thickening darkness. But the third time he looked +back the light of the sun was utterly gone! For an instant the knot +rose up in his throat and choked him, and his eyes popped, and grew +like little balls of fire in his intense desire to see through the +gloom. Even the girl, who was afraid of only one thing in the world, +would have paused where Peter stood, with a little quickening of her +heart. For all the light of the day, it seemed to Peter, had suddenly +died out. Over his head the spruce and cedar and balsam tops grew so +thick they were like a canopy of night. Through them the snow never +came in winter, and under them the light of a blazing sun was only a +ghostly twilight. + +And now, as he stood there, his whole soul burning with a desire to see +his way out, Peter began to hear strange sounds. Strangest of all, and +most fearsome, was a hissing that came and went, sometimes very near to +him, and always accompanied by a grating noise that curdled his blood. +Twice after that he saw the shadow of the great owl as it swooped over +him, and he flattened himself down, the knot in his throat growing +bigger and more choking. And then he heard the soft and uncanny +movement of huge feathered bodies in the thick shroud of boughs +overhead, and slowly and cautiously he wormed himself around, +determined to get back to sunshine and day as quickly as he could. It +was not until he had made this movement that the real chill of horror +gripped at his heart. Straight behind him, directly in the path he had +traveled, he saw two little green balls of flame! + +It was instinct, and not reason or experience, which told Peter there +was menace and peril in these two tiny spots blazing in the gloom. He +did not know that his own eyes, popping half out of his head, were +equally terrifying in that pit of silence, nor that from him emanated a +still more terrifying thing--the scent of dog. He trembled on his +wobbly legs as the green eyes stared at him, and his back seemed to +break in the middle, so that he sank helplessly down upon the soft +spruce needles, waiting for his doom. In another flash the twin balls +of green fire were gone. In a moment they appeared again, a little +farther away. Then a second time they were gone, and a third time they +flashed back at him--so distant they appeared like needle-points in the +darkness. Something stupendous rose up in Peter. It was the soul of his +Airedale father, telling him the other thing was running away! And in +the joy of triumph Peter let out a yelp. In that night-infested place, +alive with hiding things, the yelp set loose weird rustlings in the +tangled treetops, strange murmurings of chortling voices, and the nasty +snapping of beaks that held in them the power to rend Peter's skinny +body into a hundred bits. From deeper in the thicket came the sudden +crash of a heavy body, and with it the chuckling notes of a porcupine, +and a HOO-HOO-HOO-EE of startled inquiry that at first Peter took for a +human voice. And again he lay shivering close to the foot-deep carpet +of needles under him, while his heart thumped against his ribs, and his +whiskers stood out in mortal fear. There followed a weird and appalling +silence, and in that stillness Peter quested vainly for the sunlight he +had lost. And then, indistinctly, but bringing with it a new thrill, he +heard another sound. It was a soft and distant rippling of running +water. He knew that sound. It was friendly. He had played among the +rocks and pebbles and sand where it was made. His courage came back, +and he rose up on his legs, and made his way toward it. Something +inside him told him to go quietly, but his feet were big and clumsy, +and half a dozen times in the next two minutes he stumbled on his nose. +At last he came to the stream, scarcely wider than a man might have +reached across, rippling and plashing its way through the naked roots +of trees. And ahead of him Peter saw light. He quickened his pace, +until at the last he was running when he came out into the edge of the +meadowy plain, with its sweetness of flowers and green grass and song +of birds, and its glory of blue sky and sun. + +If he had ever been afraid, Peter forgot it now. The choking went out +of his throat, his heart fell back in its place, and the fierce +conviction that he had vanquished everything in the world possessed +him. He peered back into the dark cavern of evergreen out of which the +streamlet gurgled, and then trotted straight away from it, growling +back his defiance as he ran. At a safe distance he stopped, and faced +about. Nothing was following him, and the importance of his +achievements grew upon him. He began to swell; his fore-legs he planted +pugnaciously, he hollowed his back, and began to bark with all the +puppyish ferocity that was in him. And though he continued to yelp, and +pounded the earth with his paws, and tore up the green grass with his +sharp little teeth, nothing dared to come out of the black forest in +answer to his challenge! + +His head was high and his ears cocked jauntily as he trotted up the +slope, and for the first time in his three months of existence he +yearned to give battle to something that was alive. He was a changed +Peter, no longer satisfied with the thought of gnawing sticks or stones +or mauling a rabbit skin. At the crest of the slope he stopped, and +yelped down, almost determined to go back to that black patch of forest +and chase out everything that was in it. Then he turned toward Cragg's +Ridge, and what he saw seemed slowly to shrink up the pugnaciousness +that was in him, and his stiffened tail drooped until the knotty end of +it touched the ground. + +Three or four hundred yards away, out of the heart of that cup-like +paradise which ran back through a break in the ridge, rose a spiral of +white smoke, and with the sight of that smoke Peter heard also the +chopping of axe. It made him shiver, and yet he made his way toward it. +He was not old enough--nor was it in the gentle blood of his Mackenzie +mother--to know the meaning of hate; but something was growing swiftly +in Peter's shrewd little head, and he sensed impending danger whenever +he heard the sound of the axe. For always there was associated with +that sound the cat-like, thin-faced man with the red bristle on his +upper lip, and the one eye that never opened but was always closed. And +Peter had come to fear this one eyed man more than he feared any of the +ghostly monsters hidden in the black pit of the forest he had braved +that day. + +But the owls, and the porcupine, and the fiery-eyed fox that had run +away from him, had put into Peter something which was not in him +yesterday, and he did not slink on his belly when he came to the edge +of the cup between the broken ridge, but stood up boldly on his crooked +legs and looked ahead of him. At the far edge of the cup, under the +western shoulder of the ridge, was a thick scattering of tall cedars +and green poplars and white birch, and in the shelter of these was a +cabin built of logs. A lovelier spot could not have been chosen for the +home of man. The hollow, from where Peter stood, was a velvety carpet +of green, thickly strewn with flowers and ferns, sweet with the scent +of violets and wild honey-suckle, and filled with the song of birds. +Through the middle of it purled a tiny creek which disappeared between +the ragged shoulders of rock, and close to this creek stood the cabin, +its log walls smothered under a luxuriant growth of wood-vine. But +Peter's quizzical little eyes were not measuring the beauty of the +place, nor were his ears listening to the singing of birds, or the +chattering of a red-squirrel on a stub a few yards away. He was looking +beyond the cabin, to a chalk-white mass of rock that rose like a giant +mushroom in the edge of the trees--and he was listening to the ringing +of the axe, and straining his ears to catch the sound of a voice. + +It was the voice he wanted most of all, and when this did not come he +choked back a whimper in his throat, and went down to the creek, and +waded through it, and came up cautiously behind the cabin, his eyes and +ears alert and his loosely jointed legs ready for flight at a sign of +danger. He wanted to set up his sharp yipping signal for the girl, but +the menace of the axe choked back his desire. At the very end of the +cabin, where the wood-vine grew thick and dense, Peter had burrowed +himself a hiding-place, and into this he skulked with the quickness of +a rat getting away from its enemies. From this protecting screen he +cautiously poked forth his whiskered face, to make what inventory he +could of his chances for supper and a safe home-coming. + +And as he looked forth his heart gave a sudden jump. + +It was the girl, and not the man who was using the axe today. At the +big wood-pile half a stone's throw away he saw the shimmer of her brown +curls in the sun, and a glimpse of her white face as it was turned for +an instant toward the cabin. In his gladness he would have leaped out, +but the curse of a voice he had learned to dread held him back. + +A man had come out of the cabin, and close behind the man, a woman. The +man was a long, lean, cadaverous-faced creature, and Peter knew that +the devil was in him as he stood there at the cabin door. His breath, +if one had stood close enough to smell it, was heavy with whiskey. +Tobacco juice stained the corners of his mouth, and his one eye gleamed +with an animal-like exultation as he nodded toward the girl with the +shining curls + +"Mooney says he'll pay seven-fifty for her when he gets his tie-money +from the Government, an' he paid me fifty down," he said. "It'll help +pay for the brat's board these last ten years--an' mebby, when it comes +to a show-down, I can stick him for a thousand." + +The woman made no answer. She was, in a way, past answering with a mind +of her own. The man, as he stood there, was wicked and cruel, every +line in his ugly face and angular body a line of sin. The woman was +bent, broken, a wreck. In her face there was no sign of a living soul. +Her eyes were dull, her heart burned out, her hands gnarled with toil +under the slavedom of a beast. Yet even Peter, quiet as a mouse where +he lay, sensed the difference between them. He had seen the girl and +this woman sobbing in each other's arms. And often he had crawled to +the woman's feet, and occasionally her hand had touched him, and +frequently she had given him things to eat. But it was seldom he heard +her voice when the man was near. + +The man was biting off a chunk of black tobacco. Suddenly he asked, + +"How old is she, Liz?" + +And the woman answered in a strange and husky voice. + +"Seventeen the twelfth day of this month." + +The man spat. + +"Mooney ought to pay a thousand. We've had her better'n ten years--an' +Mooney's crazy as a loon to git her. He'll pay!" + +"Jed--" The woman's voice rose above its hoarseness. "Jed--it ain't +right!" + +The man laughed. He opened his mouth wide, until his yellow fangs +gleamed in the sun, and the girl with the axe paused for a moment in +her work, and flung back her head, staring at the two before the cabin +door. + +"Right?" jeered the man. "Right? That's what you been preachin' me +these last ten years 'bout whiskey-runnin,' but it ain't made me stop +sellin' whiskey, has it? An' I guess it ain't a word that'll come +between Mooney and me--not if Mooney gits his thousand." Suddenly he +turned upon her, a hand half raised to strike. "An' if you whisper a +word to her--if y' double-cross me so much as the length of your little +finger--I'll break every bone in your body, so help me God! You +understand? You won't say anything to her?" + +The woman's uneven shoulders drooped lower. + +"I won't say ennything, Jed. I--promise." + +The man dropped his uplifted hand with a harsh grunt. + +"I'll kill y' if you do," he warned. + +The girl had dropped her axe, and was coming toward them. She was a +slim, bird-like creature, with a poise to her head and an up-tilt to +her chin which warned that the man had not yet beaten her to the level +of the woman. She was dressed in a faded calico, frayed at the bottom, +and with the sleeves bobbed off just above the elbows of her slim white +arms. Her stockings were mottled with patches and mends, and her shoes +were old, and worn out at the toes. + +But to Peter, worshipping her from his hiding place, she was the most +beautiful thing in the world. Jolly Roger had said the same thing, and +most men--and women, too--would have agreed that this slip of a girl +possessed a beauty which it would take a long time for unhappiness and +torture to crush entirely out of her. Her eyes were as blue as the +violets Peter had thrust his nose among that day. And her hair was a +glory, loosed by her exertion from its bondage of faded ribbon, and +falling about her shoulders and nearly to her waist in a mass of +curling brown tresses that at times had made even Jed Hawkins' one eye +light of with admiration. And yet, even in those times, he hated her, +and more than once his bony fingers had closed viciously in that mass +of radiant hair, but seldom could he wring a scream of pain from Nada. +Even now, when she could see the light of the devil in his one gleaming +eye, it was only her flesh--and not her soul--that was afraid. + +But the strain had begun to show its mark. In the blue of her eyes was +the look of one who was never free of haunting visions, her cheeks were +pallid, and a little too thin, and the vivid redness of her lips was +not of health and happiness, but a touch of the color which should have +been in her face, and which until now had refused to die. + +She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm. + +"I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her," she cried in +a fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming loathing and +hatred at him. "If you hit her once more--something is going to happen. +If you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand it. But--look at her! +You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled her--an' you oughta die!" + +The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him Peter +felt something he had never felt before. For the first time in his life +he had no desire to run away from the man. Something rose up from his +bony little chest, and grew in his throat, until it was a babyish snarl +so low that no human ears could hear it. And in his hiding-place his +needle-like fangs gleamed under snarling lips. + +But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his fingers in +the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if something was choking +him, and turned away with a toss of his arms. + +"You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?" he said, and +disappeared around the end of the cabin. + +The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but she was +trembling. + +"I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any more," she +comforted. "If he does, I'll end him. I will! I'll bring the police. +I'll show 'em the places where he hides his whiskey. I'll--I'll put him +in jail, if I die for it!" + +The woman's bony hands clutched at one of Nada's. + +"No, no, you mustn't do that," she pleaded. "He was good to me once, a +long time ago, Nada. It ain't Jed that's bad--it's the whiskey. You +mustn't tell on him, Nada--you mustn't!" + +"I've promised you I won't--if he don't hit you any more. He kin shake +me by the hair if he wants to. But if he hits you--" + +She drew a deep breath, and also passed around the end of the cabin. + +For a few moments Peter listened. Then he slipped back through the +tunnel he had made under the wood-vine, and saw Nada walking swiftly +toward the break in the ridge. He followed, so quietly that she was +through the break, and was picking her way among the tumbled masses of +rock along the farther foot of the ridge, before she discovered his +presence. With a glad cry she caught him up in her arms and hugged him +against her breast. + +"Peter, Peter, where have you been?" she demanded. "I thought something +had happened to you, and I've been huntin' for you, and so has Roger--I +mean Mister Jolly Roger." + +Peter was hugged tighter, and he hung limply until his mistress came to +a thick little clump of dwarf balsams hidden among the rocks. It was +their "secret place," and Peter had come to sense the fact that its +mystery was not to be disclosed. Here Nada had made her little bower, +and she sat down now upon a thick rug of balsam boughs, and held Peter +out in front of her, squatted on his haunches. A new light had come +into her eyes, and they were shining like stars. There was a flush in +her cheeks, her red lips were parted, and Peter, looking up--and being +just dog--could scarcely measure the beauty of her. But he knew that +something had happened, and he tried hard to understand. + +"Peter, he was here ag'in today--Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger," she +cried softly, the pink in her cheeks growing brighter. "And he told me +I was pretty!" + +She drew a deep breath, and looked out over the rocks to the valley and +the black forest beyond. And her fingers, under Peter's scrawny +armpits, tightened until he grunted. + +"And he asked me if he could touch my hair--mind you he asked me that, +Peter!--And when I said 'yes' he just put his hand on it, as if he was +afraid, and he said it was beautiful, and that I must take wonderful +care of it!" + +Peter saw a throbbing in her throat. + +"Peter--he said he didn't want to do anything wrong to me, that he'd +cut off his hand first. He said that! And then he said--if I didn't +think it was wrong--he'd like to kiss me--" + +She hugged Peter up close to her again. + +"And--I told him I guessed it wasn't wrong, because I liked him, and +nobody else had ever kissed me, and--Peter--he didn't kiss me! And when +he went away he looked so queer--so white-like--and somethin' inside me +has been singing ever since. I don't know what it is, Peter. But it's +there!" + +And then, after a moment. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I wish Mister Jolly Roger would take us away!" + +The thought drew a tightening to her lips, and the pucker of a frown +between her eyes, and she sat Peter down beside her and looked over the +valley to the black forest, in the heart of which was Jolly Roger's +cabin. + +"It's funny he don't want anybody to know he's there, ain't it--I +mean--isn't it, Peter?" she mused. "He's livin' in the old shack Indian +Tom died in last winter, and I've promised not to tell. He says it's a +great secret, and that only you, and I, and the Missioner over at +Sucker Creek know anything about it. I'd like to go over and clean up +the shack for him. I sure would." + +Peter, beginning to nose among the rocks, did not see the flash of fire +that came slowly into the blue of the girl's eyes. She was looking at +her ragged shoes, at the patched stockings, at the poverty of her faded +dress, and her fingers clenched in her lap. + +"I'd do it--I'd go away--somewhere--and never come back, if it wasn't +for her," she breathed. "She treats me like a witch most of the time, +but Jed Hawkins made her that way. I kin remember--" + +Suddenly she jumped up, and flung back her head defiantly, so that her +hair streamed out in a sun-filled cloud in a gust of wind that came up +the valley. + +"Some day, I'll kill 'im," she cried to the black forest across the +plain. "Some day--I will!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering in her +brain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her +unhappiness, so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of it. +But today the betrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in a hard +little voice she had told Jolly Roger--the stranger who had come into +the black forest--how her mother and father had died of the same plague +more than ten years ago, and how Jed Hawkins and his woman had promised +to keep her for three silver fox skins which her father had caught +before the sickness came. That much the woman had confided in her, for +she was only six when it happened. And she had not dared to look at +Jolly Roger when she told him of what had passed since then, so she saw +little of the hardening in his face as he listened. But he had blown +his nose--hard. It was a way with Jolly Roger, and she had not known +him long enough to understand what it meant. And a little later he had +asked her if he might touch her hair--and his big hand had lain for a +moment on her head, as gently as a woman's. + +Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that hand. It +had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as Peter's +vanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the same for him. +Peter was no longer afraid, and the girl was no longer afraid, and +together they went along the slope of the ridge, until they came to a +dried-up coulee which was choked with a wild upheaval of rock. Here +Peter suddenly stopped, with his nose to the ground, and then his legs +stiffened, and for the first time the girl heard the babyish growl in +his throat. For a moment she stood very still, and listened, and +faintly there came to her a sound, as if someone was scraping rock +against rock. The girl drew in a quick breath; she stood straighter, +and Peter--looking up--saw her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And +then she bent down, and picked up a jagged stick. + +"We'll go up, Peter," she whispered. "It's one of his hiding-places!" + +There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no longer +afraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating little heart +as he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl on tip-toe, and +Peter making no sound with his soft footpads, so that Jed Hawkins was +still on his knees, with his back toward them, when they came out into +a square of pebbles and sand between two giant masses of rock. +Yesterday, or the day before, both Peter and Nada would have slunk +back, for Jed was at his devil's work, and only evil could come to the +one who discovered him at it. He had scooped out a pile of sand from +under the edge of the biggest rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy +leather flasks from a jug which he had pulled from the hole. And then +he paused to drink. They could hear the liquor gurgling down his throat. + +Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot the +man whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he saw who +it was, and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, his two big +fists clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her. + +"You damned--spy!" he cried chokingly. "If you was a man--I'd kill you!" + +The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spots +flamed in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her eyes. +And there was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, as she said +tauntingly. + +"If I was a man, Jed Hawkins--you'd run!" + +He took a step toward her. + +"You'd run," she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a tighter +grip of her stick. "I ain't ever seen you hit anything but a woman, an' +a girl, or some poor animal that didn't dare bite back. You're a +coward, Jed Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey-sellin' coward--and +you oughta die!" + +Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this moment +between the two big rocks. It held something in the air, like the +impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the world. He +forgot himself, and looked up at his mistress, a wonderful, slim little +thing standing there at last unafraid before the future--and in his dog +heart and soul a part of the truth came to him, and he planted his big +feet squarely in front of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had +never snarled before in his life. + +And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he had +humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without suspicion +until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After that--after he +had delivered her to the other's shack--it would all be up to Mooney, +he figured. And this was what had come of his peace-loving efforts! She +was taking advantage of him, defying him, spying upon him--the brat he +had fed and brought up for ten years! Her beauty as she stood there did +not hold him back. It was punishment she needed, a beating, a +hair-pulling, until there was no breath left in her impudent body. He +sprang forward, and Peter let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her +stick. But she was a moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his +right hand shot forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of +her hair. + +It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, this +hour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. All things +in the world were blotted out for him except one--the six inches of +naked shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and his shoe. He dove +in. His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, sank into it. And a wild +and terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins as he loosed the girl's hair. +Peter heard the yell, and his teeth sank deeper in the flesh of the +first thing he had ever hated. It was the girl, more than Peter, who +realized the horror of what followed. The man bent down and his +powerful fingers closed round Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his +wind suddenly shut off, and his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew +back the arm that held him, as he would have drawn it back to fling a +stone. + +With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, and +Peter went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him fiercely +across the face, and in that same moment there was a sickening, +crushing thud as Peter's loosely-jointed little body struck against the +face of the great rock. When Nada turned Peter was groveling in the +sand, his hips and back broken down, but his bright eyes were on her, +and without a whimper or a whine he was struggling to drag himself +toward her. Only Jolly Roger could tell the story of how Peter's mother +had died for a woman, and in this moment it must have been that her +spirit entered into Peter's soul, for the pain of his terrible hurt was +forgotten in his desire to drag himself back to the feet of the girl, +and die facing her enemy--the man. He did not know that he was dragging +his broken body only an inch at a time through the sand. But the girl +saw the terrible truth, and with a cry of agony which all of Hawkin's +torture could not have wrung from her she ran to him, and fell upon her +knees, and gathered him tenderly in her arms. Then, in a flash, she was +on her feet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little demon. + +"For that--I'll kill you!" she panted. "I will. I'll kill you!" + +The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but he +was coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as the +man's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind her a wild fear +possessed her--fear for Peter, and not for herself. Very soon Hawkins +was left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at the +fate that had robbed him of an eye. + +Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran +Nada, her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter +to her breast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, +just as once upon a time she had heard a baby cry--a little baby that +was dying. And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that Peter, +too, was dying. And as she stumbled onward--on toward the black forest, +she put her face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name. + +"Peter--Peter--Peter--" + +And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voice +even in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, +and the girl's breath came in a great sob as she staggered on. + +"It's all right now, Peter," she crooned. "It's all right, baby. He +won't hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to Mister +Roger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy--" + +Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her, +just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when the baby +died. For their grief, in God's reckoning of things, was the same; and +little Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that had made them +one in flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, +crying softly to her, and content to die there close to the warmth of +the creature he loved. + +"Don't cry, baby," she soothed. "Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soon be +all right--all right--" And the sob came again into her throat, and +clung there like a choking fist, until they came to the edge of the big +forest. + +She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not until +then did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there +was no difference at all between the dying baby's face and dying +Peter's, except that one had been white and soft, and Peter's was +different--and covered with hair. + +"God'll take care o' you, Peter," she whispered. "He will--God, 'n' me, +and Mister Roger--" + +She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not even +God, would ever take care of Peter again--in life. His still little +face and the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. For Peter's +back was broken, and he was going--going even now--as she ran moaningly +with him through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he died, +before his heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach Jolly +Roger's friendly cabin, in the big swamp beyond the creek. It was not +that he could save Peter, but something told her that Jolly Roger's +presence would make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her, +for in this first glad spring of her existence the stranger in the +forest shack had brought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her +life; and they had set him up, she and Peter, as they would have set up +a god on a shrine. + +So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good half +mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She was +staggering, and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and when she +saw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she remembered what Jolly +Roger had said about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes widened. +Then she looked down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms, +and she drew a quick breath and made up her mind. She knew that at this +shallow place the water could not be more than up to her waist, even at +the flood-tide. But it was running like a mill-race. + +She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them there +for a moment, and kissed him. + +"We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. "We ain't afraid, are we, baby? +We'll make it--sure--sure--we'll make it--" + +She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to her +knees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the water +seemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and tugging at +her as the water deepened to her waist. In another moment she was +fighting, fighting to hold her feet, struggling to keep the forces from +driving her downstream. And then came the supreme moment, close to the +shore for which she was striving. She felt herself giving away, and she +cried out brokenly for Peter not to be afraid. And then something drove +pitilessly against her body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter +close with the other--and caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded +like a handle from the black and slippery log the flood-water had +brought down upon her. + +"We're all right, Peter," she cried, even in that moment when she knew +she had lost. "We're all ri--" + +And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with her +went Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush of the +flood. + +Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow she +was not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been of the +flood-rush of waters that smashed down the creeks in springtime. An +inundating roar was over her, under her, and all about her; it beat in +a hissing thunder against the drums of her ears, yet it did not +frighten her as she had sometimes been frightened. Even in that black +chaos which was swiftly suffocating the life from her, unspoken words +of cheer for Peter formed in her heart, and she struggled to hold him +to her, while with her other hand she fought to raise herself by the +stub of the log to which she clung. For she was not thinking of him as +Peter, the dog, but as something greater--something that had fought for +her that day, and because of her had died. + +Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big log, +turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space her weight +had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the water swirled +but did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then her white face, and +with a last mighty effort she thrust up Peter so that his dripping body +was on the log. Sobbingly she filled her lungs with air. But the drench +of water and her hair blinded her so that she could not see. And she +found all at once that the strength had gone from her body. Vainly she +tried to drag herself up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised +herself a little, so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like +a mighty arm from the log. + +With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was +gone, and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins +himself had often pulled it, and for a few moments the current pounded +against her body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth as it held her +there by her hair. + +If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She could +see now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool into which +the log was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, suddenly, her heart +seemed to stop its beating, and her eyes widened, and in that moment of +astounding miracle she forgot that she was hanging by her hair in the +ugly lip of the flood, with slippery hands beating and pulling at her +from below. For she saw Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making +his way toward the shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be +his dead body drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his +head was above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling-- + +Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something gave +way. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged into the +current, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the pool struck out +with all her last strength until her feet touched bottom, and she could +stand. She wiped the water from her eyes, sobbing in her breathless +fear--her mighty hope. Peter had reached the shore. He had dragged +himself out, and had crumpled down in a broken heap--but he was facing +her, his bright eyes wide open and questing for her. Slowly Nada went +to him. Until now, when it was all over, she had not realized how +helplessly weak she was. Something was turning round and round in her +head, and she was so dizzy that the shore swam before her eyes, and it +seemed quite right to her that Peter should be alive--and not dead. She +was still in a foot of water when she fell on her knees and dragged +herself the rest of the way to him, and gathered him in her arms again, +close up against her wet, choking breast. + +And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a twig +overhead; and the water that a little while before had sung of death +rippled with its old musical joy, and about them the birds sang, and +very near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels chattered and played +in a mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair brightened in the sun, and +began to ripple into curls at the end, and Peter's bristling whiskers +grew dry--so that half an hour after she had dragged herself out of the +water there was a new light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her +cheeks that was like the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a +rose. + +"We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter," she +whispered, a little thrill in her voice. + +She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked up +Peter--and winced when he gave a little moan. + +"He'll fix you, Peter," she comforted. "An' it'll be so nice over +here--with him." + +Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun-filled +forest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world filled her +soul, and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill in the touch of +the soft earth under her feet. + +"Flowers," she cried softly. "Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, Peter--" +She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of light and life +about her. And then, "I guess we'll go to Mister Jolly Roger now," she +said. + +She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and rebellious +glory about her, and the violet light grew a little darker in her eyes, +and the color a bit deeper in her cheeks as she walked on into the +forest over the faintly worn foot-trail that led to the old cabin where +Jolly Roger was keeping himself away from the eyes of men. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +From the little old cabin of dead Indian Tom, built in a grassy glade +close to the shore of Sucker Creek, came the sound of a man's laughter. +In this late afternoon the last flooding gold of the sun filled the +open door of the poplar shack. The man's laughter, like the sun on the +mottled tapestry of the poplar-wood, was a heart-lightening thing there +on the edge of the great swamp that swept back for miles to the north +and west. It was the sort of laughter one seldom hears from a man, not +riotous of over-bold, but a big, clean laughter that came from the soul +out. It was an infectious thing. It drove the gloom out of the blackest +night. It dispelled fear, and if ever there were devils lurking in the +edge of old Indian Tom's swamp they slunk away at the sound of it. And +more than once, as those who lived in tepee and cabin and far-away +shack could testify, that laugh had driven back death itself. + +In the shack, this last day of May afternoon, stood leaning over a +rough table the man of the laugh--Roger McKay, known as Jolly Roger, +outlaw extraordinary, and sought by the men of every Royal Northwest +Mounted Police patrol north of the Height of Land. + +It was incongruous and inconceivable to think of him as an outlaw, as +he stood there in the last glow of the sun--an outlaw with the weirdest +and strangest record in all the northland hung up against his name. He +was not tall, and neither was he short, and he was as plump as an apple +and as rosy as its ripest side. There was something cherubic in the +smoothness and the fullness of his face, the clear gray of his eyes, +the fine-spun blond of his short-cropped hair, and the plumpness of his +hands and half-bared arms. He was a priestly, well-fed looking man, was +this Jolly Roger, rotund and convivial in all his proportions, and some +in great error would have called him fat. But it was a strange kind of +fatness, as many a man on the trail could swear to. And as for sin, or +one sign of outlawry, it could not be found in any mark upon +him--unless one closed his eyes to all else and guessed it by the belt +and revolver holster which he wore about his rotund waist. In every +other respect Jolly Roger appeared to be not only a harmless creature, +but one especially designed by the Creator of things to spread cheer +and good-will wherever he went. His age, if he had seen fit to disclose +it, was thirty-four. + +There seemed, at first, to be nothing that even a contented man might +laugh at in the cabin, and even less to bring merriment from one on +whose head a price was set--unless it was the delicious aroma of a +supper just about ready to be served. On a little stove in the farthest +corner of the shack the breasts of two spruce partridges were turning +golden brown in a skittle, and from the broken neck of a coffee pot a +rich perfume was rising with the steam. Piping hot in the open oven +half a dozen baked potatoes were waiting in their crisp brown jackets. + +From the table Jolly Roger turned, rubbing his hands and chuckling as +he went for a third time to a low shelf built against the cabin wall. +There he carefully raised a mass of old papers from a box, and at the +movement there came a protesting squeak, and a little brown mouse +popped up to the edge of it and peered at him with a pair of bright +little questioning eyes. + +"You little devil!" he exulted. "You nervy little devil!" + +He raised the papers higher, and again looked upon his discovery of +half an hour ago. In a soft nest lay four tiny mice, still naked and +blind, and as he lowered the mass of papers the mother burrowed back to +them, and he could hear her squeaking and chirruping to the little +ones, as if she was trying to tell them not to be afraid of this man, +for she knew him very well, and it wasn't in his mind to hurt them. And +Jolly Roger, as he returned to the setting of his table, laughed +again--and the laugh rolled out into the golden sunset, and from the +top of a spruce at the edge of the creek a big blue-jay answered it in +a riotous challenge. + +But at the bottom of that laugh, if one could have looked a bit deeper, +was something more than the naked little mice in the nest of torn-up +paper. Today happiness had strangely come this gay-hearted freebooter's +way, and he might have reached out, and seized it, and have kept it for +his own. But in the hour of his opportunity he had refused it--because +he was an outlaw--because strong within him was a peculiar code of +honor all his own. There was nothing of man-made religion in the soul +of Roger McKay. Nature was his god; its manifestations, its life, and +the air it gave him to breathe were the pages which made up the Book +that guided him. And within the last hour, since the sun had begun to +drop behind the tips of the tallest trees, these things had told him +that he was a fool for turning away from the one great thing in all +life--simply because his own humors of existence had made him an +outcast and hunted by the laws of men. So the change had come, and for +a space his soul was filled with the thrill of song and laughter. + +Half an hour ago he believed that he had definitely made up his mind. +He had forced himself into forgetfulness of laws he had broken, and the +scarlet-coated men who were ever on the watch for his trail. They would +never seek him here, in the wilderness country close to the edge of +civilization, and time, he had told himself in that moment of optimism, +would blot out both his identity and his danger. Tomorrow he would go +over to Cragg's Ridge again, and then-- + +His mind was crowded with a vision of blue eyes, of brown curls glowing +in the pale sun, of a wistful, wide-eyed little face turned up to him, +and red lips that said falteringly, "I don't think it's wrong for you +to kiss me--if you want to, Mister Jolly Roger!" + +Boldly he had talked about it to the bright-eyed little mother-mouse +who peered at him now and then over the edge of her box. + +"You're a little devil of iniquity yourself," he told her. "You're a +regular Mrs. Captain Kidd, and you've eaten my cheese, and chawed my +snowshoe laces, and robbed me of a sock to make your nest. I ought to +catch you in a trap, or blow your head off. But I don't. I let you +live--and have a fam'ly. And it's you who have given me the Big Idea, +Mrs. Captain Kidd. You sure have! You've told me I've got a right to +have a nest of my own, and I'm going to have it--an' in that nest is +going to be the sweetest, prettiest little angel that God Almighty ever +forgot to make into a flower! Yessir. And if the law comes--" + +And then, suddenly, the vision clouded, and there came into Jolly +Roger's face the look of a man who knew--when he stood the truth out +naked--that he was facing a world with his back to the wall. + +And now, as the sun went down, and his supper waited--that cloud which +came to blot out his picture grew deeper and more sinister, and the +chill of it entered his heart. He turned from his table to the open +door, and his fingers drew themselves slowly into clenched fists, and +he looked out quietly and steadily into his world. The darkening depths +of the forest reached out before his eyes, mottled and painted in the +fading glory of the sun. It was his world, his everything--father, +mother, God. In it he was born, and in it he knew that some day he +would die. He loved it, understood it, and night and day, in sunshine +and storm, its mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company. But +it held no message for him now. And his ears scarcely heard the raucous +scolding of the blue-jay in the fire-tipped crest of the tall black +spruce. + +And then that something which was bigger than desire came up within +him, and forced itself in words between his grimly set lips. + +"She's only a--a kid," he said, a fierce, low note of defiance in his +voice. "And I--I'm a damned pirate, and there's jails waiting for me, +and they'll get me sooner or later, sure as God lets me live!" + +He turned from the sun to his shadowing cabin, and for a moment a ghost +of a smile played in his face as he heard the little mother-mouse +rustling among her papers. + +"We can't do it," he said. "We simply can't do it, Mrs. Captain Kidd. +She's had hell enough without me taking her into another. And it'd be +that, sooner or later. It sure would, Mrs. Captain Kidd. But I'm glad, +mighty glad, to think she'd let me kiss her--if I wanted to. Think of +that, Mrs. Captain Kidd!--if I wanted to. Oh, Lord!" + +And the humor of it crept in alongside the tragedy in Jolly Roger's +heart, and he chuckled as he bent over his partridge breasts. + +"If I wanted to," he repeated. "Why, if I had a life to give, I'd give +it--to kiss her just once! But, as it happens, Mrs. Captain Kidd--" + +Jolly Roger's breath cut itself suddenly short, and for an instant he +grew tense as he bent over the stove. His philosophy had taught him one +thing above all others, that he was a survival of the fittest--only so +long as he survived. And he was always guarding against the end. His +brain was keen, his ears quick, and every fibre in him trained to its +duty of watchfulness. And he knew, without turning his head, that +someone was standing in the doorway behind him. There had come a faint +noise, a shadowing of the fading sun-glow on the wall, the electrical +disturbance of another presence, gazing at him quietly, without motion, +and without sound. After that first telegraphic shock of warning he +stabbed his fork into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled +loudly--and then with a lightning movement was facing the door, his +forty-four Colt leveled waist-high at the intruder. + +Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his side. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +He stared. And the face in the doorway stared back at him. + +"Nada!" he gasped. "Good Lord, I thought--I thought--" He swallowed as +he tried to lie. "I thought--it might be a bear!" + +He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little figure +of Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet. Her blue eyes were +shining at him, wide and startled. Her cheeks were flushed. A strange +look had frozen on her parted red lips, and her hair was falling loose +in a cloud of curling brown tresses about her shoulders. Jolly Roger, +dreaming of her in his insane happiness of a few minutes ago, sensed +nothing beyond the beauty and the unexpectedness of her in this first +moment. Then--swiftly--he saw the other thing. The last glow of the sun +glistened in her wet hair, her dress was sodden and clinging, and +little pools of water were widening slowly about her ragged shoes. +These things he might have expected, for she had to cross the creek. +But it was the look in her eyes that startled him, as she stood there +with Peter, the mongrel pup, clasped tightly in her arms. + +"Nada, what's happened?" he asked, laying his gun on the table. "You +fell in the creek--" + +"It--it's Peter," she cried, with a sobbing break in her voice. "We +come on Jed Hawkins when he was diggin' up some of his whiskey, and he +was mad, and pulled my hair, and Peter bit him--and then he picked up +Peter and threw him against a rock--and he's terribly hurt! Oh, Mister +Jolly Roger--" + +She held out the pup to him, and Peter whimpered as Jolly Roger took +his wiry little face between his hands, and then lifted him gently. The +girl was sobbing, with passionate little catches in her breath, but +there were no tears in her eyes as they turned for an instant from +Peter to the gun on the table. + +"If I'd had that," she cried, "I'd hev killed him!" + +Jolly Roger's face was coldly gray as he knelt down on the floor and +bent over Peter. + +"He--pulled your hair, you say?" + +"I--forgot," she whispered, close at his shoulder. "I wasn't goin' to +tell you that. But it didn't hurt. It was Peter--" + +He felt the damp caress of her curls upon his neck as she bent over him. + +"Please tell me, Mister Jolly Roger--is he hurt--bad?" + +With the tenderness of a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over +Peter's scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt the +infinite consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid of Jed +Hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its +measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie +here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over +him and Jolly Roger's hands working to mend his hurt. He whimpered when +Jolly Roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little +child when there came the sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even +then he turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue +against the back of his man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he +worked, was giving instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to +bring him cloth which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten +minutes Peter's right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it was as +stiff and as useless as a piece of wood. + +"His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken," said Jolly Roger when +he had finished. "He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will +be on his feet again." + +He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his +bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he +turned to Nada. + +She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. And +Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had given his +storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that day. They were +blue, so blue that he had never seen violets like them--and he knew +that in her heart there was no guile behind which she could hide the +secret they were betraying. A yearning such as had never before come +into his life urged him to open his arms to her, and he knew that she +would have come into them; but a still mightier will held them tense +and throbbing at his side. Her cheeks were aflame as she looked at him, +and he told himself that God could not have made a lovelier thing, as +she stood there in her worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light +of glory in her face, and her damp hair waving and curling about her in +the last light of the day. + +"I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger," she whispered, a great pride and +faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. "I knew it!" + +Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began +spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he said, +with his back toward her, + +"You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat--and then I'll go +home with you, as far as the Ridge." + +Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and comfortable +in Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face on his fore-paws +his bright eyes followed every movement of these two who so completely +made up his world. He heard that sweet little laugh which came only now +and then from Nada's lips, when for a moment she was happy; he saw her +shake out her hair in the glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted, +and he observed Jolly Roger standing at the stove--looking at her as +she did it--a worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes +turned toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to +nothing of definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed +happiness, for--somehow--there was always that feeling when they were +with Jolly Roger, no matter whether the sun was shining or the day was +dark and filled with gloom. Many times in his short life he had seen +grief and tears in Nada's face, and had seen her cringe and hide +herself at the vile cursing and witch-like voice of the man and woman +back in the other cabin. But there was nothing like that in Jolly +Roger's company. He had two eyes, and he was not always cursing, and he +did not pull Nada's hair--and Peter loved him from the bottom of his +soul. And he knew that his mistress loved him, for she had told him so, +and there was always a different look in her eyes when she was with +Jolly Roger, and it was only then that she laughed in that glad little +way--as she was laughing now. + +Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, her +face flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring his coffee. +And then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the nicest of the +partridge breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes calm and quiet as he +looked at the adorable sweetness of her across the table from him. To +Nada there was nothing of shame in what lay behind the happiness in the +violet radiance of her eyes. Jolly Roger had brought to her the only +happiness that had ever come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed +Hawkins and his witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought +of this stranger who for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's +cabin. And, like Peter, she loved him. The innocence of it lay naked in +her eyes. + +"Nada," said Jolly Roger. "You're seventeen--" + +"Goin' on eighteen," she corrected quickly. "I was seventeen two weeks +ago!" + +The quick, undefined little note of eagerness in her voice made his +heart thump. He nodded, and smiled. + +"Yes, going on eighteen," he said. "And pretty soon some young fellow +will come along, and see you, and marry you--" + +"O-o-o-h-h-h!" + +It was a little, strange cry that came to her lips, and Jolly Roger saw +a quick throbbing in her bare throat, and her eyes were so wide-open +and startled as she looked at him that he felt, for a moment, as if the +resolution in his soul was giving way. + +"Where are you goin', Mister Roger?" + +"Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere--not for a time, at least. But +you--you'll surely be going away with some one--some day." + +"I won't," she denied hotly. "I hate men! I hate all but you, Mister +Jolly Roger. And if you go away--" + +"Yes, if I go away-- + +"I'll kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Involuntarily she reached out a slim hand to the big gun on the corner +of the table. + +"I'll kill 'im, if you go away," she threatened again, "He's broken his +wife, and crippled her, and if it wasn't for her I'd have gone long +ago. But I've promised, and I'm goin' to stay--until something happens. +And if you go--now--" + +At the choking throb in her throat and the sudden quiver that came to +her lips, Jolly Roger jumped up for the coffee pot, though his cup was +still half full. + +"I won't go, Nada," he cried, trying to laugh. "I promise--cross my +heart and hope to die! I won't go--until you tell me I can." + +And then, feeling that something had almost gone wrong for a moment, +Peter yipped from his nest in the bunk, and the gladness in Nada's eyes +thanked Jolly Roger for his promise when he came back with the coffee +pot. Standing behind her, he made pretense of refilling her cup, though +she had scarcely touched it, and all the time his eyes were looking at +her beautiful head, and he saw again the dampness in her hair. + +"What happened in the creek, Nada?" he asked. + +She told him, and at the mention of his name Peter drew his bristling +little head erect, and waited expectantly. He could see Jolly Roger's +face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a quick smile +flashing over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly Roger leaned a +little toward her in the lampglow, and said, + +"You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever hits you +again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it--will you tell +me?" Nada hesitated. + +"If you don't--I'll take back my promise, and won't stay," he added. + +"Then--I'll promise," she said. "If he does it, I'll tell you. But I +ain't--I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins will sure +kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep him here? +And--o-o-o-h!--if I could only stay, too--" + +The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant a +flood of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger turned +again to the stove, and made as if he had not seen the blush or heard +her last words, so that the shame of her embarrassment was gone as +quickly as it had come. + +"Yes, I'll keep Peter," he said over his shoulder. And in his heart +another voice which she could not hear, was crying, "And I'd give my +life if I could keep you!" + +Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger and +Nada out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half an hour +later. It was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed only the +mosquito-screen, leaving the door wide open, and Peter could hear their +footsteps disappearing slowly into the deep gloom of the forest. It was +a little before moonrise, and under the spruce and cedar and thick +balsam the world was like a black pit. It was very still, and except +for the soft tread of their own feet and the musical ripple of water in +the creek there was scarcely a sound in this first hour of the night. +In Jolly Roger there rose something of exultation, for Nada's warm +little hand lay in his as he guided her through the darkness, and her +fingers had clasped themselves tightly round his thumb. She was very +close to him when he paused to make sure of the unseen trail, so close +that her cheek rested against his arm, and--bending a little--his lips +touched the soft ripples of her hair. But he could not see her in the +gloom, and his heart pounded fiercely all the way to the ford. + +Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like Jolly +Roger. + +"I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada," he said. + +Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of losing him +there in the blackness that lay about them like a great ink-blotch. And +she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all the power in his soul +fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from putting his arms about her slim +little body and crying out the worship that was in him. + +"I ain't--I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet," he heard her whisper +then. "You're so big and strong, Mister Roger--" + +Gently he freed his thumb from her fingers, and picked her up, and held +her high, so that she was against his breast and above the deepest of +the water. Lightly at first Nada's arms lay about his shoulders, but as +the flood began to rush higher and she felt him straining against +it,--her arms tightened, until the clasp of them was warm and thrilling +round Jolly Roger's neck. She gave a big gasp of relief when he stood +her safely down upon her feet on the other side. And then again she +reached out, and found his hand, and twined her fingers about his big +thumb--and Jolly Roger went on with her over the plain toward Cragg's +Ridge, dripping wet, just as the rim of the moon began to rise over the +edge of the eastern forests. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed an interminable wait to Peter, back in the cabin. Jolly Roger +had put out the light, and when the moon came up the glow of it did not +come into the dark room where Peter lay, for the open door was to the +west, and curtains were drawn closely at both windows. But through the +door he could see the first mellowing of the night, and after that the +swift coming of a soft, golden radiance which swallowed all darkness +and filled his world with the ghostly shadows which seemed alive, yet +never made a sound. It was a big, splendid moon this night, and Peter +loved the moon, though he had seen it only a few times in his three +months of life. It fascinated him more than the sun, for it was always +light when the sun came, and he had never seen the sun eat up darkness, +as the moon did. Its mystery awed him, but did not frighten. He could +not quite understand the strange, still shadows which were always +unreal when he nosed into them, and it puzzled him why the birds did +not fly about in the moon glow, and sing as they did in the day-time. +And something deep in him, many generations older than himself, made +his blood run faster when this thing that ate up darkness came creeping +through the sky, and he was filled with a yearning to adventure out +into the strange glow of it, quietly and stealthily, watching and +listening for things he had never seen or heard. + +In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon the +open door, and for a long time he listened only for the returning +footsteps of Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts to drag +himself to the edge of the bunk, but the movement sent such a cutting +pain through him that he did not make a third. And outside, after a +time, he heard the Night People rousing themselves. They were very +cautious, these Night People, for unlike the creatures of the dawn, +waking to greet the sun with song and happiness, most of them were +sharp-fanged and long-clawed-rovers and pirates of the great +wilderness, ready to kill. And this, too, Peter sensed through the +generations of northland dog that was in him. He heard a wolf howl, +coming faintly through the night from miles away, and something told +him it was not a dog. From nearer came the call of a moose, and that +same sense told him he had heard a monster bear which his eyes had +never seen. He did not know of the soft-footed, night-eyed creatures of +prey--the fox, the lynx, the fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine, nor +of the round-eyed, feathered murderers in the tree-tops--yet that same +something told him they were out there among the shadows, under the +luring glow of the moon. And a thing happened, all at once, to stab the +truth home to him. A baby snowshoe rabbit, a third grown, hopped out +into the open close to the cabin door, and as it nibbled at the green +grass, a gray catapult of claw and feathers shot out of the air, and +Peter heard the crying agony of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into +the thick spruce tops. Even then--unafraid--Peter wanted to go out into +the moon glow! + +At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and Jolly +Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and stopped in +front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and looking into +the west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over the tree-tops. There +was a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but he choked it back. Jolly +Roger was strangely quiet, and Peter could not hear Nada, and as he +sniffed, and gulped the lump in his throat, he seemed to catch the +breath of something impending in the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and +sat down in darkness near the table, and for a long time Peter kept his +eyes fixed on the shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and +listened to his breathing, until he could stand it no longer, and +whined. + +The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match--and then blew +the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and stroked him with +his hand. + +"Peter," he said in a low voice, "I guess we've got a job on our hands. +You began it today--and I've got to finish it. We're goin' to kill Jed +Hawkins!" + +Peter snuggled closer. + +"Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me," Jolly Roger went +on in the darkness, "but until tonight I never made up my mind to kill +a man. I'm ready--now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again we're goin' to +kill him! Understand, Pied-Bot?" + +He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a nest for +Peter on the floor, and stretched himself out in the bunk; and after +that, for a long time, there seemed to be something heavier than the +gloom of night in the cabin for Peter, and he listened and waited and +prayed in his dog way for Nada's return, and wondered why it was that +she left him so long. And the Night People held high carnival under the +yellow moon, and there was flight and terror and slaughter in the glow +of it--and Jolly Roger slept, and the wolf howled nearer, and the creek +chortled its incessant song of running water, and in the end Peter's +eyes closed, and a red-eyed ermine peeped over the sill into the +man-and dog-scented stillness of the outlaw's cabin. + +For many days after this first night in the cabin, Peter did not see +Nada. There was more rain, and the creek flooded higher, so that each +time Jolly Roger went over to Cragg's Ridge he took his life in his +hands in fording the stream. Peter saw no one but Jolly Roger, and at +the end of the second week he was going about on his mended leg. But +there would always be a limp in his gait, and always his right +hind-foot would leave a peculiar mark in the trail. + +These two weeks of helplessness were an education in Peter's life and +were destined to leave their mark upon him always. He learned to know +Jolly Roger, not alone from seeing events, but through an intuitive +instinct that grew swiftly somewhere in his shrewd head. This instinct, +given widest scope in these weeks of helplessness, developed faster +than any other in him, until in the end, he could judge Jolly Roger's +humor by the sound of his approaching footsteps. Never was there a +waking hour in which he was not fighting to comprehend the mystery of +the change that had come over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and +each day that passed put her farther away from him, yet he also sensed +the fact that Jolly Roger went to her, and when the outlaw returned to +the cabin Peter was filled with a yearning hope that Nada was returning +with him. + +But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about Jolly +Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man which was +greater than all other things in his world. And in these days Jolly +Roger found in Peter's comradeship and growing understanding a +comforting outlet for the things which at times consumed him. Peter saw +it all--hours when Jolly Roger's voice and laughter filled the cabin +with cheer and happiness, and others when his face was set in grim +lines, with that hard, far-away look in his eyes that Peter could never +quite make out. It was at such times, when Jolly Roger held a choking +grip on the love in his heart, that he told Peter things which he had +never revealed to a human soul. + +In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the +creek, he said to Peter, + +"We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight. +Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for her. +I'd die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a prison +cell--if I could have her with me. And that's dangerous, Peter, because +we can't have her. It's impossible, boy. She doesn't guess why I'm +here. She doesn't know I've been outlawin' it for years, and that I'm +hiding here because the Police would never think of looking for Jolly +Roger McKay this close to civilization. If I told her, she would think +I was worse than Jed Hawkins, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her +I've outlawed with my wits instead of a gun, and that I've never +criminally hurt a person in my life. No, she wouldn't believe that, +Peter. And she--she cares for me, Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And +she's got faith in me, and would go with me to the Missioner's +tomorrow. I know it. I can see it, feel it, and I--" + +His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck. + +"Peter," he whispered in the thickening darkness. "I believe there's a +God, but He's a different sort of God than most people believe in. He +lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in the birds, the sky, in +everything--and I hope that God will strike me dead if I do what isn't +right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he strikes me dead!" + +And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly in +his bunk, and slept but little. + +But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding over the +wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he cooked their +breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling thing about this man. +With gloom and oppression fastened upon him he would rise up suddenly, +and start whistling or singing, and once he said to Peter, + +"I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, no +matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see it. A +laugh never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung." + +Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By that +time he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the fording-place, +and there he would wait, sometimes hours at a stretch, while his +comrade and master went over to Cragg's Ridge. But frequently Jolly +Roger would not cross, but remained with Peter, and would lie on his +back at the edge of a grassy knoll they had found, reading one of the +little old-fashioned red books which Peter knew were very precious to +him. Often he wondered what was between the faded red covers that was +so interesting, and if he could have read he would have seen such +titles as "Margaret of Anjou," "History of Napoleon," "History of Peter +the Great," "Caesar," "Columbus the Discoverer," and so on through the +twenty volumes which Jolly Roger had taken from a wilderness mail two +years before, and which he now prized next to his life. + +This afternoon, as they lay in the sleepy quiet of June, Jolly Roger +answered the questioning inquisitiveness in Peter's face and eyes. + +"You see, Pied-Bot, it was this way," he said, beginning a little +apologetically. "I was dying for something to read, and I figgered +there'd be something on the Mail--newspapers, you know. So I stopped +it, and tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I didn't take +anything else--that time. There's twenty of them, and they weigh nine +pounds, and in the last two years I've toted them five thousand miles. +I wouldn't trade them for my weight in gold, and I'm pretty heavy. I +named you after one of them--Peter. I pretty near called you +Christopher Columbus. And some day we've got to take these books to the +man they were going to, Peter. I've promised myself that. It seems sort +of like stealing the soul out of someone. I just borrowed them, that's +all. And I've kept the address of the owner, away up on the edge of the +Barrens. Some day we're going to make a special trip to take the books +home." + +Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and +following the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada +standing quietly on the opposite side of the stream, looking at them. +In a moment Peter knew her, and he was trembling in every muscle when +Jolly Roger caught him up under his arm, and with a happy laugh plunged +through the creek with him. For a good five minutes after that Jolly +Roger stood aside watching Peter and Nada, and there was a glisten of +dampness in his eyes when he saw the wet on Nada's cheeks, and the +whimpering joy of Peter as he caressed her face and hands. Three weeks +had been a long time to Peter, but he could see no difference in the +little mistress he worshipped. There were still the radiant curls to +hide his nose in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, the warm thrill of +her body as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know that she had +new shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had gone from her +red lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could no longer +hide the old haunted look in her eyes. + +But Jolly Roger saw the look, and the growing pallor, and had noted +them for two weeks past. And later that afternoon, when Nada returned +to Cragg's Ridge, and he re-crossed the stream with Peter, there was a +hard and terrible look in his eyes which Peter had caught there more +and more frequently of late. And that evening, in the twilight of their +cabin, Jolly Roger said, + +"It's coming soon, Peter. I'm expecting it. Something is happening +which she won't tell us about. She is afraid for me. I know it. But I'm +going to find out--soon. And then, Pied-Bot, I think we'll probably +kill Jed Hawkins, and hit for the North." + +The gloom of foreboding that was in Jolly Roger's voice and words +seemed to settle over the cabin for many days after that, and more than +ever Peter sensed the thrill and warning of that mysterious something +which was impending. He was developing swiftly, in flesh and bone and +instinct, and there began to possess him now the beginning of that +subtle caution and shrewdness which were to mean so much to him later +on. An instinct greater than reason, if it was not reason itself, told +him that his master was constantly watching for something which did not +come. And that same instinct, or reason, impinged upon him the fact +that it was a thing to be guarded against. He did not go blindly into +the mystery of things now. He circumvented them, and came up from +behind. Craft and cunning replaced mere curiosity and puppyish egoism. +He was quick to learn, and Jolly Roger's word became his law, so that +only once or twice was he told a thing, and it became a part of his +understanding. While the keen, shrewd brain of his Airedale father +developed inside Peter's head, the flesh and blood development of his +big, gentle, soft-footed Mackenzie hound mother kept pace in his body. +His legs and feet began to lose their grotesqueness. Flesh began to +cover the knots in his tail. His head, bristling fiercely with wiry +whiskers, seemed to pause for a space to give his lanky body a chance +to catch up with it. And in spite of his big feet, so clumsy that a few +weeks ago they had stumbled over everything in his way, he could now +travel without making a sound. + +So it came to pass, after a time, that when Peter heard footsteps +approaching the cabin he made no effort to reveal himself until he knew +it was Jolly Roger who was coming. And this was strangely in spite of +the fact that in the five weeks since Nada had brought him from Cragg's +Ridge no one but Jolly Roger and Nada had set foot within sight of the +shack. It was an inborn caution, growing stronger in him each day. +There came one early evening when Peter made a discovery. He had +returned with Jolly Roger from a fishing trip farther down the creek, +and scarcely had he set nose to the little clearing about the cabin +when he caught the presence of a strange scent. He investigated it +swiftly, and found it all about the cabin, and very strong close up +against the cabin door. There were no doubts in Peter's mind. A man had +been there, and this man had gone around and around the cabin, and had +opened the door, and had even gone inside, for Peter found the scent of +him on the floor. He tried, in a way, to tell Jolly Roger. He bristled, +and whined, and looked searchingly into the darkening edge of the +forest. Jolly Roger quested with him for a few moments, and when he +failed to find marks in the ground he began cleaning a fish for supper, +and said. + +"Probably a wolverine, Pied-Bot. The rascal came to see what he could +find while we were away." + +But Peter was not satisfied. He was restless all that night. Sounds +which had been familiar now held a new significance for him. The next +day he was filled with a quiet but brooding expectancy. He resented the +intrusion of the strange footprints. It was, in his process of +instinctive reasoning, an encroachment upon the property rights of his +master, and he was--true to the law of his species--the guardian of +those rights. + +The fourth evening after the stranger's visit to the cabin Jolly Roger +was later than usual in returning from Cragg's Ridge. Peter had been on +a hunting adventure of his own, and came to the cabin at sunset. But he +never came out of cover now without standing quietly for a few moments, +getting the wind, and listening. And tonight, poking his head between +some balsams twenty yards from the shack, he was treated to a sudden +thrill. The cabin door was open. And standing close to this door, +looking quietly and cautiously about, stood a stranger. He was not like +Jed Hawkins, was Peter's first impression. He was tall, with a +wide-brimmed hat, and wore boots with striped trousers tucked into +them, and on his coat were bits of metal which caught the last gleams +of the sun. Peter knew nothing of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. +But he sensed danger, and he remained very quiet, without moving a +muscle of his head or body, while the stranger looked about, with a +hand on his unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he entered the cabin, +and closed the door after him, did Peter move back into the deeper +gloom of the forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked through +cover to the foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, across which +Jolly Roger would come from Cragg's Ridge. + +There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. +Peter did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. He +remained sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears flattened, and +in his whole attitude no sign of gladness at his master's coming. With +every instinct of caution developed to the highest degree within him, +Jolly Roger was lightning quick to observe the significance of small +things. He spoke to Peter, caressed him with his hand, and moved on +along the foot-trail toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him +moodily, and after a few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches +again. Jolly Roger was puzzled. + +"What is it, Peter?" he asked. "Are you afraid of that wolverine--" + +Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, and his +eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail beyond the +outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he disappeared around a +twist in the path. There he stopped, and peered back. Peter was not +following him, but still sat where he had left him. A quicker breath +came to Jolly Roger's lips, and he went back to Peter. For fully a +minute he stood beside him, watching and listening, and not once did +the reddish glare in Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. +Jolly Roger's eyes had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on +his knees beside Peter, and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear. + +"You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying to +tell me?" + +Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes from +ahead. + +There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his feet, +and he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the forest, and in +the gloom that was gathering there his hand carried the big automatic. +Peter followed him now, and Jolly Roger swung in a wide circle, so that +they came up on that forest side of the cabin where there was no +window. And here Jolly Roger knelt down beside Peter again, and +whispered to him. + +"You stay here, Pied-Bot. Understand? You stay here." + +He pressed him down gently with his hand, so that Peter understood. +Then, slinking low, and swift as a cat, Jolly Roger ran to the end of +the cabin where there was no window. With his head close to the ground +he peered out cautiously at the door. It was closed. Then he looked at +the windows. To the west the curtains were up, as he had left them. And +to the east-- + +A whimsical smile played at the corners of his mouth. Those curtains he +had kept tightly drawn. One of them was down now. But the other was +raised two inches, so that one hidden within the cabin could watch the +approach from the trail! + +He drew back, and under his breath he chuckled. He recognized the sheer +nerve of the thing, the clever handiwork of it. Someone was inside the +cabin, and he was ready to stake his life it was Cassidy, the Irish +bloodhound of "M" Division. If anyone ferreted him out way down here on +the edge of civilization he had gambled with himself that it would be +Cassidy. And Cassidy had come--Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to his +trails for three years, who had chased him across the Barren Lands, who +had followed him up the Mackenzie, and back again--who had fought with +him, and starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought +him to prison. Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy. They +had played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that +game had become the life's ambition of each. And now Cassidy was in +there, confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for him to +step into the trap. + +To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a +deep-seated humor in the situation. Three times in the last year and a +half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him floundering in +the cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had placed for his victim. +This was the fourth time. And Cassidy would be tremendously upset! + +Praying that Peter would remain quiet, Jolly Roger took off his shoes. +After that he made no more sound than a ferret as he crept to the door. +An inch at a time he raised himself, until he was standing up, with his +ear half an inch from the crack that ran lengthwise of the frame. +Holding his breath, he listened. For an interminable time, it seemed to +him, there was no sound from within. He guessed what Cassidy was +doing--peering through that slit of window under the curtain. But he +was not absolutely sure. And he knew the necessity of making no error, +with Cassidy in there, gripping the butt of his gun. + +Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet distinct, +were moving from the window toward the door. Half way they paused, and +turned to one of the windows looking westward. But it was evident the +watcher was not expecting his game from that direction, for after a +moment's silence he returned to the window through which he could see +the trail. This time Jolly Roger was sure. Cassidy was again peering +through the window, with his back toward him, and every muscle in the +forest rover's body gathered for instant action. In another moment he +had flung open the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to +find himself looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun. + +For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly Roger's, +Peter lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly popping from +his head in his eagerness to see what was happening. He heard voices, +and then the wild thrill of Jolly Roger's laughter, and restraining +himself no longer he trotted cautiously to the open door of the cabin. +In a chair sat the stranger with the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, +with his hands securely tied behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling +about, filling a shoulder-pack in the last light of the day. + +"Cassidy, I oughta kill you," Jolly Roger was saying as he worked, an +exultant chuckle in his voice. "You don't give me any peace. No matter +where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I ever +invited you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant flowers over +you, now that I've got the chance. But I'm too chicken-hearted. +Besides, I like you. By the time you get tired of chasing me you should +be a pretty good man-hunter. But just now you lack finesse, +Cassidy--you lack finesse." And Jolly Roger's chuckle broke into +another laugh. + +Cassidy heaved out a grunt. + +"It's luck--just damned luck!" he growled. + +"If it is, I hope it keeps up," said Jolly Roger. "Now, look here, +Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it. If you don't get me next +time--if you fail, and I turn the trick on you once more--will you +quit?" + +Cassidy's eyes gleamed in the thickening dusk. + +"If I don't get you next time--I'll hand in my resignation!" + +The laughter went out of Jolly Roger's voice. + +"I believe you, Cassidy. You've played square--always. And now--if I +free your hands--will you swear to give me a two hours' start before +you leave this cabin?" + +"I'll give you the start," said Cassidy. + +His lean face was growing indistinct in the gloom. + +Jolly Roger came up behind him. There was the slash of a knife. Then he +picked up his shoulder-pack. At the door he paused. + +"Look at your watch when I'm gone, Cassidy, and be sure you make it a +full two hours." + +"I'll make it two hours and five minutes," said Cassidy. "Hittin' north +are you, Jolly Roger?" + +"I'm hittin'--bushward," replied the outlaw. "I'm going where it's +plenty thick and hard to travel, Cassidy. Goodby--" + +He was gone. He hit straight north, making noise as he went, but once +in the timber he swung southward, and plunged through the creek with +Peter under his arm. Not until they had traveled a good half mile over +the plain did Jolly Roger speak. Then he said, speaking directly at +Peter, + +"Cassidy thinks I'll sure hit for the North country again, Pied-Bot. +But we're foolin' him. I've sort of planned on something like this +happening, and right now we're hittin' for the tail-end of Cragg's +Ridge where there's a mess of rock that the devil himself can hardly +get into. We've got to do it, boy. We can't leave the girl--just now. +We can't leave--her--" + +Jolly Roger's voice choked. Then he paused for a moment, and bent over +to put his hand on Peter. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Peter--Cassidy would have got me--sure. And +I'm wondering, Peter--I'm wondering--why did God forget to give a dog +speech?" + +Peter whined in answer, and through the darkness of the night they went +on together. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away as +Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and Cragg's +Ridge. + +They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew the +red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise--he would wait the +full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five minutes after +that. In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed, exultation at his +achievement died away, and there filled him again the old +loneliness--the loneliness which called out against the fate which had +made of Cassidy an enemy instead of a friend. And yet--what an enemy! + +He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand. + +"Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us down," he +protested. "Someone we could have hated, and who would have hated us! +Why did they send Cassidy--the fairest and squarest man that ever wore +red? We can't do him a dirty turn--we can't hurt him, Pied-Bot, even at +the worst. And if ever he takes us in to Headquarters, and looks at us +through the bars, I feel it's going to be like a knife in his heart. +But he'll do it, Peter, if he can. It's his job. And he's honest. We've +got to say that of Cassidy." + +The Ridge loomed up at the edge of the level plain, and for a few +moments Jolly Roger paused, while he looked off through the eastward +gloom. A mile in that direction, beyond the cleft that ran like a great +furrow through the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, still and dark under +the faint glow of the stars. And in that cabin was Nada. He felt that +she was sitting at her little window, looking out into the night, +thinking of him--and a great desire gripped at his heart, tugging him +in its direction. But he turned toward the west. + +"We can't let her know what has happened, boy," he said, feeling the +urge of caution. "For a little while we must let her think we have left +the country. If Cassidy sees her, and talks with her, something in +those blue-flower eyes of hers might give us away if she knew we were +hiding up among the rocks of the Stew-Kettle. But I'm hopin' God +A'mighty won't let her see Cassidy. And I'm thinking He won't, +Pied-Bot, because I've a pretty good hunch He wants us to settle with +Jed Hawkins before we go." + +It was a habit of his years of aloneness, this talking to a creature +that could make no answer. But even in the darkness he sensed the +understanding of Peter. + +Rocks grew thicker and heavier under their feet, and they went more +slowly, and occasionally stumbled in the gloom. But, after a fashion, +they knew their way even in darkness. More than once Peter had wondered +why his master had so carefully explored this useless mass of upheaved +rock at the end of Cragg's Ridge. They had never seen an animal or a +blade of grass in all its gray, sun-blasted sterility. It was like a +hostile thing, overhung with a half-dead, slow-beating something that +was like the dying pulse of an evil thing. And now darkness added to +its mystery and its unfriendliness as Peter nosed close at his master's +heels. Up and up they picked their way, over and between ragged +upheavals of rock, twisting into this broken path and that, feeling +their way, partly sensing it, and always ascending toward the stars. +Roger McKay did not speak again to Peter. Each time he came out where +the sky was clear he looked toward the solitary dark pinnacle, far up +and ahead, strangely resembling a giant tombstone in the star-glow, +that was their guide. And after many minutes of strange climbing, in +which it seemed to Jolly Roger the nail-heads in the soles of his boots +made weirdly loud noises on the rocks, they came near to the top. + +There they stopped, and in a deeply shadowed place where there was a +carpet of soft sand, with walls of rock close on either side, Jolly +Roger spread out his blankets. Then he went out from the black shadow, +so that a million stars seemed not far away over their heads. Here he +sat down, and began to smoke, thinking of what tomorrow would hold for +him, and of the many days destined to follow that tomorrow. Nowhere in +the world was there to be--for him--the peace of an absolute certainty. +Not until he felt the cold steel of iron bars with his two hands, and +the fatal game had been played to the end. + +There was no corrosive bitterness of the vengeful in Jolly Roger's +heart. For that reason even his enemies, the Police, had fallen into +the habit of using the nickname which the wilderness people had given +him. He did not hate these police. Curiously, he loved them. Their type +was to him the living flesh and blood of the finest manhood since the +Crusaders. And he did not hate the law. At times the Law, as +personified in all of its unswerving majesty, amused him. It was so +terribly serious over such trivial things--like himself, for instance. +It could not seem to sleep or rest until a man was hanged, or snugly +put behind hard steel, no matter how well that man loved his +human-kind--and the world. And Jolly Roger loved both. In his heart he +believed he had not committed a crime by achieving justice where +otherwise there would have been no justice. Yet outwardly he cursed +himself for a lawbreaker. And he loved life. He loved the stars +silently glowing down at him tonight. He loved even the gray, lifeless +rock, which recalled to his imaginative genius the terrific and +interesting life that had once existed--he loved the ghostly majesty of +the grave-like pinnacle that rose above him, and beyond that he loved +all the world. + +But most of all, more than his own life or all that a thousand lives +might hold for him, he loved the violet-eyed girl who had come into his +life from the desolation and unhappiness of Jed Hawkins' cabin. + +Forgetting the law, forgetting all but her, he went at last into the +dungeon-like gloom between the rocks, and after Peter had wallowed +himself a bed in the carpet of sand they fell asleep. + +They awoke with the dawn. But for three days thereafter they went forth +only at night, and for three days did not show themselves above the +barricade of rocks. The Stew-Kettle was what Jolly Roger had called it, +and when the sun was straight above, or descending with the last half +of the day, the name fitted. + +It was a hot place, so hot that at a distance its piled-up masses of +white rock seemed to simmer and broil in the blazing heat of the July +sun. Neither man nor beast would look into the heart of it, Jolly Roger +had assured Peter, unless the one was half-witted and the other a fool. +Looking at it from the meadowy green plain that lay between the Ridge +and the forest their temporary retreat was anything but a temptation to +the eye. Something had happened there a few thousand centuries before, +and in a moment of evident spleen and vexation the earth had vomited up +that pile of rock debris, and Jolly Roger good humoredly told himself +and Peter that it was an act of Providence especially intended for +them, though planned and erupted some years before they were born. + +The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon action. + +This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had seemed +to concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though it was now +almost sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence still hovered +about it. The huge masses of stone were like baked things to the touch +of hand and foot, and one breathed a smoldering air in between their +gray and white walls. + +Thus forbidding looked the Stew-Kettle, when viewed from the plain. But +from the top-most crag of the mass, which rose a hundred feet high at +the end of the Ridge, one might find his reward for a blistering climb. +On all sides, a paradise of green and yellow and gold, stretched the +vast wilderness, studded with shimmering lakes that gleamed here and +there from out of their rich dark frames of spruce and cedar and +balsam. And half way between the edge of the plain and this highest +pinnacle of rock, utterly hidden from the eyes of both man and beast, +nestled the hiding place which Jolly Roger and Peter had found. + +It was a cool and cavernous spot, in spite of the Sahara-like heat of +the great pile. In the very heart of it two gigantic masses of rock had +put their shoulders together, like Gog and Magog, so that under their +ten thousand tons of weight was a crypt-like tunnel as high as a man's +head, into which the light and the glare of the sun never came. + +Peter, now that he had grown accustomed to the deadness of it, liked +this change from Indian Tom's cabin. He liked his wallow of soft sand +during the day, and he liked still more the aloneness and the aloofness +of their ramparted stronghold when the cool of evening came. He did +not, of course, understand just what their escape from Cassidy had +meant, but instinct was shrewdly at work within him, and no wolf could +have guarded the place more carefully than he. And he had all creation +in mind when he guarded the rock-pile. + +All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call +for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart. And on this third afternoon, as +the hot July sun dipped half way to the western forests, both Peter and +his master were looking yearningly, and with the same thought, toward +the east, where over the back-bone of Cragg's Ridge Jed Hawkins' cabin +lay. + +"We'll let her know tonight," Roger McKay said at last, with something +very slow and deliberate in his voice. "We'll take the chance--and let +her know." + +Peter's bristling Airedale whiskers, standing out like a bunch of broom +splints about his face, quivered sympathetically, and he thumped his +tail in the sand. He was an artful hypocrite, was Peter, because he +always looked as if he understood, whether he did or not. And Jolly +Roger, staring at the gray rock-backs outside their tunnel door, went +on. + +"We must play square with her, Pied-Bot, and it's a crime worse than +murder not to let her know the truth. If she wasn't a kid, Peter! But +she's that--just a kid--the sweetest, purest thing God A'mighty ever +made, and it isn't fair to live this lie any longer, no matter how we +love her. And we do love her, Peter." + +Peter lay very quiet, watching the strange gray look that had settled +in Jolly Roger's face. + +"I've got to tell her that I'm a damned highwayman," he added, in a +moment. "And she won't understand, Peter. She can't. But I'm going to +do it. I'm going to tell her--today. And then--I think we'll be hittin' +north pretty soon, Pied-Bot. If it wasn't for Jed Hawkins--" He rose up +out of the sand, his hands clenched. + +"We ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for her," +he finished. + +He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path until +he stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into the northern +wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand miles--was +home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay to the Rockies, from the +Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and in it he had lived the thrill +of life according to his own peculiar code. He knew that he had loved +life as few had ever loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon +and the stars. The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in +spite of its ceaseless peril for him. + +But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood in the +blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a little while, +and because of it he had lived a lie. He had not told Jed Hawkins' +foster-girl that he was an outlaw, and that he had come to the edge of +civilization because he thought it was the last place the Royal Mounted +would look for him. When he went to her this evening it would probably +be for the last time. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her +the police were after him from one end of the Canadian northland to the +other. And that same night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for the +Barren Lands, a thousand miles away. He was sure of himself +now--sure--even as the dark wall of the forest across the plain faded +out, and gave place to a pale, girlish face with eyes blue as flowers, +and brown curls filled with the lustre of the sun--a face that had +taken the place of mother, sister and God deep down in his soul. Yes, +he was sure of himself--even with that face rising lo give battle to +his last great test of honor. He was an outlaw, and the police wanted +him, but-- + +Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face. +They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley +McKay led the way out of the rock-pile. + +An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay +between the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light in the +cabin, but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down under the +warning pressure of McKay's hand. + +"I'll go on alone," he said. "You stay here." + +It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not hear +the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the glass of +Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to that +signal-tapping, heard nothing from within, except a monotone of voice +that came from the outer room. For half an hour he waited, repeating +the signals at intervals. At last a door opened, and Nada stood +silhouetted against the light of the room beyond. + +McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly behind +the girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was raised a little +from the bottom. + +"Mister--Roger--" she whispered. "Is it--YOU?" + +"Yes," he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. "It's me." + +The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the girl +was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up quietly in +the dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of Nada's voice at +the window. There was something in the note of it, and in the caution +of Jolly Roger's reply, that held him stiff and attentive, his ears +wide-open for approaching sound. For several minutes he stood thus, and +then the whispering voices at the window ceased and he heard his master +retreating very quietly through the night. When Jolly Roger spoke to +him, back under the broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that +Peter had stood near the window. + +McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin. + +"Something happened there tonight--something she wouldn't tell me +about," he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself. "I could +FEEL it. I wish I could have seen her face." + +He set out over the plain; and then, as if remembering that he must +explain the matter to Peter, he said: + +"She can't get out tonight, Pied-Bot, but she'll come to us in the +jackpines tomorrow afternoon. We'll have to wait." + +He tried to say the thing cheerfully, but between this night and +tomorrow afternoon seemed an interminable time, now that he was +determined to make a clean breast of his affairs to Nada, and leave the +country. Most of that night he walked in the coolness of the moonlit +plain, and for a long time he sat amid the flower-scented shadows of +the trysting-place in the heart of the jackpine clump, where Nada had a +hidden place all her own. It was here that Peter discovered something +which Jolly Roger could not see in the deep shadows, a bundle warm and +soft and sweet with the presence of Nada herself. It was hidden under a +clump of young banksians, very carefully hidden, and tucked about with +grass and evergreen boughs. When McKay left the jackpines he wondered +why it was that Peter showed no inclination to follow him until he was +urged. + +They did not return to the Stew-Kettle until dawn, and most of that day +Jolly Roger spent in sleep between the two big rocks. It was late +afternoon when they made their last meal. In this farewell hour McKay +climbed up close to the pinnacle, where he smoked his pipe and measured +the shadows of the declining sun until it was time to leave for the +jackpines. + +Retracing his steps to the hiding place under Gog and Magog he looked +for Peter. But Peter's sand-wallow was empty, and Peter was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Peter was on his way to the mystery of the bundle he had found in the +jackpines. + +At the foot of the ridge, where the green plain fought with the +blighting edge of the Stew-Kettle, he stood for many minutes before he +started east-ward. With keen eyes gleaming behind his mop of scraggly +face-bristles he critically surveyed both land and air, and then, with +the slight limp in his gait which would always remain as a mark of Jed +Hawkins' brutality, he trotted deliberately in the direction of the +whiskey-runner's cabin home. + +A bitter memory of Jed Hawkins flattened his ears when he came near the +rock-cluttered coulee in which he had fought for Nada, and had suffered +his broken bones, and today--even as he obeyed the instinctive caution +to stop and listen--Jed Hawkins himself came out of the mouth of the +coulee, bearing a brown jug in one hand and a thick cudgel in the +other. His one wicked eye gleamed in the waning sun. His lean and +scraggly face was alight with a sinister exultation as he paused for a +moment close to the rock behind which Peter was hidden, and Peter's +fangs lay bare and his body trembled while the man stood there. Then he +moved on, and Peter did not stir, but waited until the jug and the +cudgel and the man were out of sight. + +Low under his breath he was snarling when he went on. Hatred, for a +moment, had flamed hot in his soul. Then he turned, and buried himself +in a clump of balsams that reached out into the plain, and a few +moments later came to the edge of a tiny meadow in the heart of them, +where a warbler was bursting its throat in evening-song. + +Around the edge of the meadow Peter circled, his feet deep in +buttercups and red fire-flowers, and crushing softly ripe strawberries +that grew in scarlet profusion in the open, until he came to a screen +of young jackpines, and through these he quietly and apologetically +nosed his way. Then he stood wagging his tail, with Nada sitting on the +grass half a dozen steps from him, wiping the strawberry stain from her +finger-tips. And the stain was on her red lips, and a bit of it against +the flush of her cheek, as she gave a little cry of gladness and +greeting to Peter. Her eyes flashed beyond him, and every drop of blood +in her slim, beautiful little body seemed to be throbbing with an +excitement new to Peter as she looked for Jolly Roger. + +Peter went to her, and dropped down, with his head in her lap, and +looking up through his bushy eye-brows he saw a livid bruise just under +the ripples of her brown hair, where there had been no mark yesterday, +or the day before. Nada's hands drew him closer, until he was half in +her lap, and she bent her face down to him, so that her thick, shining +hair fell all about him. Peter loved her hair, almost as much as Jolly +Roger loved it, and he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath of +content as the smothering sweetness of it shut out the sunlight from +him. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I'm almost scared to have him come today. I've +promised him. You remember--I promised to tell him if Jed Hawkins +struck me again. And he has! He made that mark, and if Jolly Roger +knows it he'll kill him. I've got to lie--lie--" + +Peter wriggled, to show his interest, and his hard tail thumped the +ground. For a space Nada said nothing more, and he could hear and feel +the beating of her heart close down against him. Then she raised her +head, and looked in the direction from which she would first hear Jolly +Roger as he came through the young jackpines. Peter, with his eyes half +closed in a vast contentment, did not see or sense the change in her +today--that her blue eyes were brighter, her cheeks flushed, and in her +body a strange and subdued throbbing that had never been there before. +Not even to Peter did she whisper her secret, but waited and listened +for Jolly Roger, and when at last she heard him and he came through the +screen of jackpines, the color in her cheeks was like the stain of +strawberries crimsoning her finger-tips. In an instant, looking down +upon her, Jolly Roger saw what Peter had not discovered, and he stopped +in his tracks, his heart thumping like a hammer inside him. Never, even +in his dreams, had the girl looked lovelier than she did now, and never +had her eyes met his eyes as they met them today, and never had her red +lips said as much to him, without uttering a word. In the same instant +he saw the livid bruise, half hidden under her hair--and then he saw a +big bundle behind her, partly screened by a dwarfed banksian. After +that his eyes went back to the bruise. + +"Jed Hawkins didn't do it," said Nada, knowing what was in his mind. +"It was Jed's woman. And you can't kill her!" she added a little +defiantly. + +Jolly Roger caught the choking throb in her throat, and he knew she was +lying. But Nada thrust Peter from her lap, and stood up, and she seemed +taller and more like a woman than ever before in her life as she faced +Jolly Roger there in the tiny open, with violets and buttercups and red +strawberries in the soft grass under their feet. And behind them, and +very near, a rival to the warbler in the meadow began singing. But Nada +did not hear. The color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but +now it was fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in +front of her. But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the +sky as she looked at Jolly Roger. + +"I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger," she said. + +A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead, +revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and Nada saw +gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter which always +frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and when she reached +out and touched his arm the flesh of it was as hard as white birch. +Even in her fear there was glory in the thought that at a word from her +he would kill the man who had struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, +timidly, and the blue in her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading +tremble in the curve of her lips as she looked straight at him. + +"I'm not going back," she repeated. + +Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the bundle. +His eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed to swell in +his chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense muscles relax. He +tried to smile. He struggled to bring up the courage which would make +possible the confession he had to make. And Peter, sitting on his +haunches in a patch of violets, watched them both, wondering what was +going to happen between these two. + +"Where are you going?" Jolly Roger asked. + +Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were twisting at +his flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth part of a second did +she drop her eyes, and that strange, wonderful something which he saw +looking at him so clearly out of her soul brought the truth to Jolly +Roger, before she had spoken. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter." + +The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he stepped +back from her. He looked away from her--at Peter. But her pale face, +her parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her radiant hair +stirred by the wind--came between them. She was no longer the little +girl--"past seventeen, goin' on eighteen." To Jolly Roger she was all +that the world held of glorious womanhood. + +"But--you can't!" he cried desperately. "I've come to tell you things, +Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been livin' a +lie--" + +[Illustration: "I've come to tell you things, Nada. I've been living +a lie."] + +He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth. + +"You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is bad. +But the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've wanted me for +years. That's why I came down here, and hid over in Indian Tom's +cabin--near where I first met you. I thought they wouldn't find me away +down here, but they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big +rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. I'm--an outlaw. I've done a lot of +bad things--in the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet +in me, or in jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life to +be able to tell you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be +square." + +He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as he +went on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. Her lips +seemed redder, and what he was saying did not seem to startle her, or +frighten her. + +"Don't you understand, Nada?" he cried. "I'm bad. The police want me. +I'm a fugitive--always running away, always hiding--an outlaw--" + +She nodded. + +"I know it, Mister Roger," she said quietly. "I heard you tell Peter +that a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place the day after +you and Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and I showed him the +way to Father John's, and he told me a lot about you, and he told +Father John a lot more, and it made me awful proud of you, Mister +Roger--and I want to go with you and Peter!" + +"Proud!" gasped Jolly Roger. "Proud, of ME--" + +She nodded again. + +"Mister Cassidy--the policeman--he used just the word you used a minute +ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other people. He said +he had to get you in jail if he could, but he hoped he never would. He +said he'd like to have a man like you for a brother. And Peter loves +you. And I--" + +The color came into her white face. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter," she finished. + +Something came to relieve the tenseness of the moment for Jolly Roger. +Peter, nosing in a thick patch of bunch-grass, put out a huge snowshoe +rabbit, and the two crashed in a startling avalanche through the young +jackpines, Peter's still puppyish voice yelling in a high staccato as +he pursued. Jolly Roger turned from Nada, and stared where they had +gone. But he was seeing nothing. He knew the hour of his mightiest +fight had come. In the reckless years of his adventuring he had more +than once faced death. He had starved. He had frozen. He had run the +deadliest gantlets of the elements, of beast, and of man. Yet was the +strife in him now the greatest of all his life. His heart thumped. His +brain was swirling in a vague and chaotic struggle for the mastery of +things, and as he fought with himself--his unseeing eyes fixed on the +spot where Peter and the snowshoe rabbit had disappeared--he heard +Nada's voice behind him, saying again that she was going with him and +Peter. In those seconds he felt himself giving way, and the determined +action he had built up for himself began to crumble like sand. He had +made his confession and in spite of it this young girl he +worshipped--sweeter and purer than the flowers of the forest--was +urging herself upon him! And his soul cried out for him to turn about, +and open his arms to her, and gather her into them for as long as God +saw fit to give him freedom and life. + +But still he fought against that mighty urge, dragging reason and right +back fragment by fragment, while Nada stood behind him, her wide-open, +childishly beautiful eyes beginning to comprehend the struggle that was +disrupting the heart of this man who was an outlaw--and her god among +men. And when Jolly Roger turned, his face had aged to the grayness of +stone, and his eyes were dull, and there was a terribly dead note in +his voice. + +"You can't go with us," he said. "You can't. It's wrong--all wrong. I +couldn't take care of you in jail, and some day--that's where I'll be." + +More than once when she had spoken of Jed Hawkins he had seen the swift +flash of lightning come into the violet of her eyes. And it came now, +and her little hands grew tight at her sides, and bright spots burned +in her cheeks. + +"You won't!" she cried. "I won't let you go to jail. I'll fight for +you--if you'll let me go with you and Peter!" + +She came a step nearer. + +"And if I stay here Jed Hawkins is goin' to sell me to a tie-cutter +over on the railroad. That's what it is--sellin' me. I ain't--I mean I +haven't--told you before, because I was afraid of what you'd do. But +it's goin' to happen, unless you let me go with you and Peter. Oh, +Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger--" + +Her fingers crept up his arms. They reached his shoulders, and her blue +eyes, and her red lips, and the woman's soul in her girl-body were so +close to him he could feel their sweetness and thrill, and then he saw +a slow-gathering mist, and tears-- + +"I'll go wherever you go," she was whispering, "And we'll hide where +they won't ever find us, and I'll be happy, so happy, Mister Roger--and +if you won't take me I want to die. Oh--" + +She was crying, with her head on his breast, and her slim, half bare +arms around his neck, and Jolly Roger listened like a miser to the +choking words that came with her sobs. And where there had been tumult +and indecision in his heart there came suddenly the clearness of +sunshine and joy, and with it the happiness of a new and mighty +possession as his arms closed about her, and he turned her face up, so +that for the first time he kissed the soft red lips that for some +inscrutable reason the God of all things had given into his keeping +this day. + +And then, holding her close, with her arms still tighter about his +neck, he cried softly, + +"I'm goin' to take you, little girl. You're goin' with Peter and me, +for ever--and ever. And we'll go--tonight!" + +When Peter came back, just in the last sunset glow of the evening, he +found his master alone in the bit of jackpine opening, and Nada was +swiftly crossing the larger meadow that lay between them and the break +in Cragg's Ridge, beyond which was Jed Hawkins' cabin. It was not the +same Jolly Roger whom he had left half an hour before. It was not the +man of the hiding-place in the rock-pile. Jolly Roger McKay, standing +there in the last soft glow of the day, was no longer the fugitive and +the outcast. He stood with silent lips, yet his soul was crying out its +gratitude to all that God of Life which breathed its sweetness of +summer evening about him. He was the First Possessor of the earth. In +that hour, that moment, he would not have sold his place for all the +happiness of all the remaining people in the world. He cried out aloud, +and Peter, squatted at his feet with his red tongue lolling out, +listened to him. + +"She is mine, mine, mine," he was saying, and he repeated that word +over and over, until Peter quirked his ears, and wondered what it +meant. And then, seeing Peter, Jolly Roger laughed softly, and bent +over him, with a look of awe and wonderment mingling with the happiness +in his face. + +"She's mine--ours," he cried boyishly. "God A'mighty took a hand, +Pied-Bot, and she's going with us! We're going tonight, when the moon +comes up. And Peter--Peter--we're going straight to the Missioner's, +and he'll marry us, and then we'll hit for a place where no one in the +world will ever find us. The law may want us, Pied-Bot, but God--this +God all around--is good to us. And we'll try and pay Him back. We will, +Peter!" + +He straightened himself, and faced the west. Then he picked up the +bundle Nada had brought, and dived through the jackpines, with Peter at +his heels. Swiftly they moved through the shadowing dusk of the plain, +and came at last to the Stew-Kettle, and to their hiding-place under +the shoulders of Gog and Magog. There was still a faint twilight in the +tunnel, and in this twilight Jolly Roger McKay packed his possessions; +and then, with fingers that trembled as if they were committing a +sacrilege, he drew Nada's few treasures from her bundle and placed them +tenderly with his own. And all the time Peter heard him saying things +under his breath, so softly that it was like the whispered drone of +song. + +In darkness they went down through the rocks to the plain, and half an +hour later they came to the break in the Ridge, and went through it, +and stopped in the black shadow of a great rock, with Jed Hawkins' +cabin half a rifle-shot away. Here Nada was to come to them with the +first rising of the moon. + +It was very still all about, and Peter sensed a significance in the +silence, and lay very quietly watching the light in the cabin, and the +shadowy form of his master. Also he knew that somewhere in the distance +a storm was gathering. The breath of it was in the air, though the sky +was clear of cloud overhead, except for the haze of a gray and ghostly +mist that lay between them and the yellow stars. Jolly Roger counted +the seconds between then and moonrise. It seemed hours before the +golden rim of it rose in the east. Shadows grew swiftly after that. +Grotesque things took shape. The rock-caps of the ridge began to light +up, like timid signal-fires. Black spruce and balsam and cedar +glistened as if bathed in enamel. And the moon came on, and mellow +floods of light played in the valleys and plains, and danced over the +forest-tops, and in voice-less and soundless miracle called upon all +living things to look upon the glory of God. In his soul Jolly Roger +McKay felt the urge and the call of that voiceless Master Power, and +through his lips came an unconscious whisper of prayer--of gratitude. + +And he watched the light in Jed Hawkins' cabin, and strained his ears +to hear a sound of footsteps coming through the moonlight. + +But there was no change. The light did not move. A door did not open or +close. There was no sound, except the growing whisper of the wind, the +call of a night bird, and the howl of the old gray wolf that always +cried out to the moon from the tangled depths of Indian Tom's swamp. + +A thrill of nervousness swept through Jolly Roger. He waited half an +hour, three-quarters, an hour--after the moon had risen. And Nada did +not come. The nervousness grew in him, and he moved out into the +moon-glow, and slowly and watchfully followed the edge of the +rock-shadows until he came to the fringe of cedars and spruce behind +the cabin. Peter, careful not to snap a twig under his paws, followed +closely. They came to the cabin, and there--very distinctly--Jolly +Roger McKay heard the low moaning of a voice. + +He edged his way to the window, and looked in. + +Crouched beside a chair in the middle of the floor was Jed Hawkins's +woman. She was moaning, and her thin body was rocking back and forth, +and with her hands clasped at her bony breast she was staring at the +open door. With a shock Jolly Roger saw that except for the strangely +crying old woman the cabin was empty. Sudden fear chilled his blood--a +fear that scarcely took form before he was at the door, and in the +cabin. The woman's eyes were red and wild as she stared at him, and she +stopped her moaning, and her hands unclasped. Jolly Roger went nearer +and bent over her and shivered at the half-mad terror he saw in her +face. + +"Where is Nada?" he demanded. "Tell me--where is she?" + +"Gone, gone, gone," crooned the woman, clutching her hands at her +breast again. "Jed has taken her--taken her to Mooney's shack, over +near the railroad. Oh, my God!--I tried to keep her, but I couldn't. He +dragged her away, and tonight he's sellin' her to Mooney--the +devil--the black brute--the tie-cutter--" + +She choked, and began rocking herself back and forth, and the moaning +came again from her thin lips. Fiercely McKay gripped her by the +shoulder. + +"Mooney's shack--where?" he cried. "Quick! Tell me!" + +"A thousand--a thousand--he's givin' a thousand dollars to git her in +the shack--alone," she cried in a dull, sing-song voice. "The road out +there leads straight to it. Near the railroad. A mile. Two miles. I +tried to keep him from doin' it, but I couldn't--I couldn't--" + +Jolly Roger heard no more. He was out of the door, and running across +the open, with Peter racing close behind him. They struck the road, and +Jolly Roger swung into it, and continued to run until the breath was +out of his lungs. And all that time the things Nada had told him about +Jed Hawkins and the tie-cutter were rushing madly through his brain. An +hour or two ago, when the words had come from her lips in the jackpine +thicket, he had believed that Nada was frightened, that a distorted +fear possessed her, that such a thing as she had half confessed to him +was too monstrous to happen. And now he cried out aloud, a groaning, +terrible cry as he went on. Hawkins and Nada had reached Mooney's shack +long before this, a shack buried deep in the wilderness, a shack from +which no cries could be heard-- + +Peter, trotting behind, whined at what he heard in Jolly Roger McKay's +panting voice. And the moon shone on them as they staggered and ran, +and here and there dark clouds were racing past the face of it, and the +slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in the air. And then came the +time when one of the dark clouds rode under the moon and the two ran on +in darkness. The cloud passed, and the moon flooded the road again with +light--and suddenly Jolly Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart +almost broke in the strain of that moment. + +Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was Nada. +Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid light of the +moon. Her hair was tangled and twisted about her shoulders and over her +breast. One arm was bare where the sleeve had been torn away, and her +girlish breast gleamed white where her waist had been stripped half +from her body. And then she saw Jolly Roger in the trail, with +wide-open, reaching arms, and with a cry such as Peter had never heard +come from her lips before she ran into them, and held up her face to +him in the yellow moon-light. In her eyes--great, tearless, burning +pools--he saw the tragedy and yet it was only that, and not horror, not +despair, NOT the other thing. His arms closed crushingly about her. Her +slim body seemed to become a part of him. Her hot lips reached up and +clung to his. + +And then, + +"Did--he get you--to--Mooney's shack--" He felt her body stiffen +against him. + +"No," she panted. "I fought--every inch. He dragged me, and hit me, and +tore my clothes--but I fought. And up there--in the trail--he turned +his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and I hit him with a +club. And he's there, now, on his back--" + +She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's length. +A cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was low, and +terrible. + +"Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can," he said, fighting to +speak coolly. "Take Peter--and go. You will make it before the storm +breaks. I am going back to have a few words with Jed Hawkins--alone. +Then I will join you, and the Missioner will marry us--" + +The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear had +disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of the night. +Her red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure of their purity +and love, and for a moment he held her close in his arms again, kissing +her as he might have kissed an angel, while her little hands stroked +his face, and she laughed softly and strangely in her happiness--the +wonder of a woman's soul rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her +girlhood. + +And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to go. + +"Hurry, little girl," he said. "Hurry--before the storm breaks!" + +She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the trail, +not once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he would this +night wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation. Never before had he +felt the desire to kill. But he felt that desire now. Before the night +was much older he would do unto Hawkins and Mooney as Hawkins had done +unto Peter. He would leave them alive, but broken and crippled and +forever punished. + +And then he stumbled over something in another darkening of the moon. +He stopped, and the light came again, and he looked down into the +upturned face of Jed Hawkins. It was a distorted and twisted face, and +its one eye was closed. The body did not move. And close to the head +was the club which Nada had used. + +Jolly Roger laughed grimly. Fate was kind to him in making a half of +his work so easy. But he wanted Hawkins to rouse himself first. Roughly +he stirred him with the toe of his boot. + +"Wake up, you fiend," he said. "I'm going to break your bones, your +arms, your legs, just as you broke Peter--and that poor old woman back +in the cabin. Wake up!" + +Jed Hawkins made no stir. He was strangely limp. For many seconds Jolly +Roger stood looking down at him, his eyes growing wider, more staring. +Darkness came again. It was an inky blackness this time, like a blotter +over the world. Low thunder came out of the west. The tree-tops +whispered in a frightened sort of way. And Jolly Roger could hear his +heart beating. He dropped upon his knees, and his hands moved over Jed +Hawkins. For a space not even Peter could have heard his movement or +his breath. + +In the ebon darkness he rose to his feet, and the night--lifelessly +still for a moment--heard the one choking word that came from his lips. + +"Dead!" + +And there he stood, the heat of his rage changing to an icy chill, his +heart dragging within him like a chunk of lead, his breath choking in +his throat. Jed Hawkins was dead! He was growing stiff there in the +black trail. He had ceased to breathe. He had ceased to be a part of +life. And the wind, rising a little with the coming of storm, seemed to +whisper and chortle over the horrible thing, and the lone wolf in +Indian Tom's swamp howled weirdly, as if he smelled death. + +Jolly Roger McKay's finger-nails dug into the flesh of his palms. If he +had killed the human viper at his feet, if his own hands had meted out +his punishment, he would not have felt the clammy terror that wrapped +itself about him in the darkness. But he had come too late. It was Nada +who had killed Jed Hawkins. Nada, with her woman's soul just born in +all its glory, had taken the life of her foster-father. And Canadian +law knew no excuse for killing. + +The chill crept to his finger-tips, and unconsciously, in a childish +sort of way, he sobbed between his clenched teeth. The thunder was +rolling nearer, and it was like a threatening voice, a deep-toned +booming of a thing inevitable and terrible. He felt the air shivering +about him, and suddenly something moved softly against his foot, and he +heard a questioning whine. It was Peter--come back to him in this hour +when he needed a living thing to give him courage. With a groan he +dropped on his knees again, and clutched his hands about Peter. + +"My God," he breathed huskily. "Peter, she's killed him. And she +mustn't know. We mustn't let anyone know--" + +And there he stopped, and Peter felt him growing rigid as stone, and +for many moments Jolly Roger's body seemed as lifeless as that of the +man who lay with up-turned face in the trail. Then he fumbled in a +pocket and found a pencil and an old envelope. And on the envelope, +with the darkness so thick he could not see his hand, he scribbled, "I +killed Jed Hawkins," and after that he signed his name firmly and +fully--"Jolly Roger McKay." + +Then he tucked the envelope under Jed Hawkins' body, where the rain +could not get at it. And after that, to make the evidence complete, he +covered the dead man's face with his coat. + +"We've got to do it, Peter," he said, and there was a new note in his +voice as he stood up on his feet again. "We've got to do it--for her. +We'll--tell her we caught Jed Hawkins in the trail and killed him." + +Caution, cleverness, his old mental skill returned to him. He dragged +the boot-legger's body to a new spot, turned it face down, threw the +club away, and kicked up the earth with his boots to give signs of a +struggle. + +The note in his voice was triumph--triumph in spite of its +heartbreak--as he turned back over the trail after he had finished, and +spoke to Peter. + +"We may have done some things we oughtn't to, Pied-Bot," he said, "but +tonight I sort o' think we've tried to make--restitution. And if they +hang us, which they probably will some time, I sort o' think it'll make +us happy to know we've done it--for her. Eh, Pied-Bot?" + +And the moon sailed out for a space, and shone on the dead whiteness of +Jolly Roger's face. And on the lips of that face was a strange, cold +smile, a smile of mastery, of exaltation, and the eyes were looking +straight ahead--the eyes of a man who had made his sacrifice for a +thing more precious to him than his God. + +Only now and then did the moon gleam through the slow-moving masses of +black cloud when he came to the edge of the Indian settlement clearing +three miles away, where stood the cabin of the Missioner. The storm had +not broken, but seemed holding back its forces for one mighty onslaught +upon the world. The thunder was repressed, and the lightning held in +leash, with escaping flashes of it occasionally betraying the impending +ambuscades of the sky. + +The clearing itself was a blot of stygian darkness, with a yellow patch +of light in the center of it--the window of the Missioner's cabin. And +Jolly Roger stood looking at it for a space, as a carven thing of rock +might have stared. His heart was dead. His soul crushed. His dream +broken. There remained only his brain, his mind made up, his worship +for the girl--a love that had changed from a thing of joy to a fire of +agony within him. Straight ahead he looked, knowing there was only one +thing for him to do. And only one. There was no alternative. No hope. +No change of fortune that even the power of God might bring about. What +lay ahead of him was inevitable. + +After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of +dying for one's country--or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay +felt that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at +the door, and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired +Missioner in the lampglow. + +Swift as one of the flashes of lightning in the sky the anxiety and +fear had gone out of Nada's face, and in an instant it was flooded with +the joy of his coming. She did not mark the strange change in him, but +went to him as she had gone to him in the trail, and Jolly Roger's arms +closed about her, but gently this time, and very tenderly, as he might +have held a little child he was afraid of hurting. Then she felt the +chill of his lips as she pressed her own to them. Startled, she looked +up into his eyes. And as he had done in the trail, so now Jolly Roger +stood her away from him, and faced the Missioner. In a cold, hard voice +he told what had happened to Nada that evening, and of the barbarous +effort Jed Hawkins had made to sell her to Mooney. Then, from a pocket +inside his shirt, he drew out a small, flat leather wallet, and thrust +it in the little Missioner's hand. + +"There's close to a thousand dollars in that," he said. "It's mine. And +I'm giving it to you--for Nada. I want you to keep her, and care for +her, and mebby some day--" + +With both her hands Nada clutched his arm. Her eyes had widened. Swift +pallor had driven the color from her face, and a broken cry was in her +voice. + +"I'm goin' with you," she protested. "I'm goin' with you--and Peter!" + +"You can't--now," he said. "I've got to go alone, Nada. I went +back--and I killed Jed Hawkins." + +Over the roof of the cabin rolled a crash of thunder. As the explosion +of it rocked the floor under their feet, Jolly Roger pointed to a door, +and said, + +"Father, if you will leave us alone--just a minute--" + +White-faced, clutching the wallet, the little gray Missioner nodded, +and went to the door, and as he opened it and entered into the darkness +of the other room he saw Jolly Roger McKay open wide his arms, and the +girl go into them. After that the storm broke. The rain descended in a +deluge upon the cabin roof. The black night was filled with the rumble +and roar and the hissing lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly +freed of bondage. And in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a +little gray man of tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer +and of faith in God--his heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he +waited. The minutes passed. Five. Ten. And then there came a louder +roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew +that a door was opened--and closed. + +He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled at +the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the +lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair--lay Nada, and close +beside her was Peter. He went to her. Tenderly he knelt down beside +her. His thin arm went about her, and as the storm raved and shrieked +above them he tried to comfort her--and spoke of God. + +And through that storm, his head bowed, his heart gone, went Jolly +Roger McKay--heading north. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter, thrust back from the door through which through which his master +had gone, listened vainly for the sound of returning footsteps in the +beat of rain and the crash of thunder outside. A strange thing had +burned itself into his soul, a thing that made his flesh quiver and set +hot fires running in his blood. As a dog sometimes senses the stealthy +approach of death, so he began to sense the tragedy of this night that +had brought with it not only a chaos of blackness and storm, but an +anguish which roused an answering whimper in his throat as he turned +toward Nada. + +She was crumpled with her head in her arms, where she had flung herself +with Jolly Roger's last kiss of worship on her lips, and she was +sobbing like a child with its heart broken. And beside her knelt the +old gray Missioner, man of God in the deep forest, who stroked her hair +with his thin hand, whispering courage and consolation to her, with the +wind and rain beating overhead and the windows rattling to the +accompaniment of ghostly voices that shrieked and wailed in the +tree-tops outside. + +Peter trembled at the sobbing, but his heart and his desire were with +the man who had gone. In his unreasoning little soul it was Jed Hawkins +who was rattling the windows with his unseen hands and who was pounding +at the door with the wind, and who was filling the black night with its +menace and fear. He hated this man, who lay back in the trail with his +lifeless face turned up to the deluge that poured out of the sky. And +he was afraid of the man, even as he hated him, and he believed that +Nada was afraid of him, and that because of her fear she was crying +there in the middle of the floor, with Father John patting her shoulder +and stroking her hair, and saying things to her which he could not +understand. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to feel himself close +against her, as Nada had held him so often in those hours when she had +unburdened her grief and her unhappiness to him. But even stronger than +this desire was the one to follow his master. + +He went to the door, and thrust his nose against the crack at the +bottom of it. He felt the fierceness of the wind fighting to break in, +and the broken mist of it filled his nostrils. But there came no scent +of Jolly Roger McKay. For a moment he struggled at the crack with his +paws. Then he flopped himself down, his heart beating fast, and fixed +his eyes inquiringly on Nada and the Missioner. + +His four and a half months of life in the big wilderness, and his weeks +of constant comradeship with Jolly Roger, had developed in him a brain +that was older than his body. No process of reasoning could impinge +upon him the fact that his master was an outlaw, but with the swift +experiences of tragedy and hiding and never-ceasing caution had come +instinctive processes which told him almost as much as reason. He knew +something was wrong tonight. It was in the air. He breathed it. It +thrilled in the crash of thunder, in the lightning fire, in the mighty +hands of the wind rocking the cabin and straining at the windows. And +vaguely the knowledge gripped him that the dead man back in the trail +was responsible for it all, and that because of this something that had +happened his mistress was crying and his master was gone. And he +believed he should also have gone with Jolly Roger into the blackness +and mystery of the storm, to fight with him against the one creature in +all the world he hated--the dead man who lay back in the thickness of +gloom between the forest walls. + +And the Missioner was saying to Nada, in a quiet, calm voice out of +which the tragedies of years had burned all excitement and passion: + +"God will forgive him, my child. In His mercy He will forgive Roger +McKay, because he killed Jed Hawkins to save YOU. But man will not +forgive. The law has been hunting him because he is an outlaw, and to +outlawry he has added what the law will call murder. But God will not +look at it in that way. He will look into the heart of the man, the man +who sacrificed himself--" + +And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting hand, and +Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the lampglow. + +"I don't care what God thinks," she cried passionately. "God didn't do +right today. Mister Roger told me everything, that he was an outlaw, +an' I oughtn't to marry him. But I didn't care. I loved him. I could +hide with him. An' we were coming to have you marry us tonight when God +let Jed Hawkins drag me away, to sell me to a man over on the +railroad--an' it was God who let Mister Roger go back and kill him. I +tell you He didn't do right! He didn't--he didn't--because Mister Roger +brought me the first happiness I ever knew, an' I loved him, an' he +loved me--an' God was wicked to let him kill Jed Hawkins--" + +Her voice cried out, a woman's soul broken in a girl's body, and Peter +whimpered and watched the Missioner as he raised Nada to her feet and +went with her into his bedroom, where a few minutes before he had +lighted a lamp. And Peter crept in quietly after them, and when the +Missioner had gone and closed the door, leaving them alone in their +tragedy, Nada seemed to see him for the first time and slowly she +reached out her arms. + +"Peter!" she whispered. "Peter--Peter--" + +In the minutes that followed, Peter could feel her heart beating. +Clutched against her breast he looked up at the white, beautiful face, +the trembling throat, the wide-open blue eyes staring at the one black +window between them and the outside night. A lull had come in the +storm. It was quiet and ominous stillness, and the ticking of a clock, +old and gray like the Missioner himself, filled the room. And Nada, +seated on the edge of Father John's bed, no longer looked like the +young girl of "seventeen goin' on eighteen." That afternoon, in the +hidden jackpine open, with its sweet-scented jasmines, its violets and +its crimson strawberries under their feet, the soul of a woman had +taken possession of her body. In that hour the first happiness of her +life had come to her. She had heard Jolly Roger McKay tell her those +things which she already knew--that he was an outlaw, and that he was +hiding down on the near-edge of civilization because the Royal Mounted +were after him farther north--and that he was not fit to love her, and +that it was a crime to let her love him. It was then the soul of the +woman had come to her in all its triumph. She had made her choice, +definitely and decisively, without hesitation and without fear. And +now, as she stared unseeingly at the window against which the rain was +beating, the woman in her girlish body rose in her mightier than in the +hour of her happiness, fighting to find a way--crying out for the man +she loved. + +Her mind swept back in a single flash through all the years she had +lived, through her years of unhappiness and torment as the foster-girl +of Jed Hawkins and his broken, beaten wife; through summers and winters +that had seemed ages to her, eternities of desolation, of heartache, of +loneliness, with the big wilderness her one friend on earth. As the +window rattled in a fresh blast of storm, she thought of the day months +ago when she had accidentally stumbled upon the hiding-place of Roger +McKay. Since that day he had been her God, and she had lived in a +paradise. He had been father, mother, brother, and at last--what she +most yearned for--a lover to her. And this day, when for the first time +he had held her in his arms, when the happiness of all the earth had +reached out to them, God had put it into Jed Hawkins' heart to destroy +her--and Jolly Roger had killed him! + +With a sharp little cry she sprang to her feet, so suddenly that Peter +fell with a thump to the floor. He looked up at her, puzzled, his jaws +half agape. She was breathing quickly. Her slender body was quivering. +Suddenly Peter saw the fire in her eyes and the flame that was rushing +into her white cheeks. Then she turned to him, and panted in a wild +little whisper, so low that the Missioner could not hear: + +"Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill Jed +Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be killed. +Peter--Peter--we don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' with him. +We're goin'--goin'--" + +She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she strained at +it with all her strength, and he could hear her sobbing: + +"We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'--if we die for it!" + +An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A gust of +wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada saw a knife +in an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped for it, and +clutched it in her hand as she climbed through the window and dropped +to the soggy ground beneath. In a single leap Peter followed her. +Blackness swallowed them as they turned toward the trail leading +north--the only trail which Jolly Roger could travel on a night like +this. They heard the voice of the Missioner calling from the window +behind them. Then a crash of thunder set the earth rolling under their +feet, and the lull in the storm came to an end. The sky split open with +the vivid fire of lightning. The trees wailed and whined, the rain fell +again in a smothering deluge, and through it Nada ran, gripping the +knife as her one defense against the demons of darkness--and always +close at her side ran Peter. + +He could not see her in that pitchy blackness, except when the +lightning flashes came. Then she was like a ghostly wraith, with +drenched clothes clinging to her until she seemed scarcely dressed, her +wet hair streaming and her wide, staring eyes looking straight ahead. +After the lightning flashes, when the world was darkest, he could hear +the stumbling tread of her feet and the panting of her breath, and now +and then the swish of brush as it struck across her face and breast. +The rain had washed away the scent of his master's feet but he knew +they were following Jolly Roger, and that the girl was running to +overtake him. In him was the desire to rush ahead, to travel faster +through the night, but Nada's stumbling feet and her panting breath and +the strange white pictures he saw of her when the sky split open with +fire held him back. Something told him that Nada must reach Jolly +Roger. And he was afraid she would stop. He wanted to bark to give her +encouragement, as he had often barked in their playful races in the +green plain-lands on the farther side of Cragg's Ridge. But the rain +choked him. It beat down upon him with the weight of heavy hands, it +slushed up into his face from pools in the trail and drove the breath +from him when he attempted to open his jaws. So he ran close--so close +that at times Nada felt the touch of his body against her. + +In these first minutes of her fight to overtake the man she loved Nada +heard but one voice--a voice crying out from her heart and brain and +soul, a voice rising above the tumult of thunder and wind, urging her +on, whipping the strength from her frail body in pitiless exhortation. +Jolly Roger was less than half an hour ahead of her. And she must +overtake him--quickly--before the forests swallowed him, before he was +gone from her life forever. + +The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. When +the brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and stumbled +on. Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay across her path, +and dragged her bruised body through their twisted tops, moaning to +Peter and clutching tightly to the sheathed knife in her hand. And the +wild spirits that possessed the night seemed to gather about her, and +over her, exulting in the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in +weird and savage joy at the discovery of this human plaything +struggling against their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he +heard it now. It rocked the earth under his feet. It filled the world +with a ceaseless rumble, and the lightning came like flashes from +swift-loading guns, and with it all a terrific assault of wind and rain +that at last drove Nada down in a crumpled heap, panting for breath, +with hands groping out wildly for him. + +Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found the +palm of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to her, while +she bowed her head until her drenched curls became a part of the mud +and water of the trail. Peter could hear her sobbing for breath. And +then suddenly, there came a change. The thunder was sweeping eastward. +The lightning was going with it. The wind died out in wailing sobs +among the treetops, and the rain fell straight down. Swiftly as its +fury had come, the July storm was passing. And Nada staggered to her +feet again and went on. + +Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging +itself out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. She +began to reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith and +confidence gave her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger would take +this trail, for it was the one trail leading from the Missioner's cabin +through the thick forest country north. And in half an hour he would +not travel far. The thrilling thought came to her that possibly he had +sought shelter in the lee of a big tree trunk during the fury of the +storm. If he had done that he would be near, very near. She paused in +the trail and gathered her breath, and cried out his name. Three times +she called it, and only the low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. +Twice again during the next ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she +could into the darkness. And still no answer came back to her through +the gloom ahead. + +The trail had dipped, and she felt the deepening slush of swamp-mire +under her feet. She sank in it to her shoe-tops, and stumbled into +pools knee-deep, and Peter wallowed in it to his belly. A quarter of an +hour they fought through it to the rising ground beyond. And by that +time the last of the black storm clouds had passed overhead. The rain +had ceased. The rumble of thunder came more faintly. There was no +lightning, and the tree-tops began to whisper softly, as if rejoicing +in the passing of the wind. About them--everywhere--they could hear the +run and drip of water, the weeping of the drenched trees, the gurgle of +flooded pools, and the trickle of tiny rivulets that splashed about +their feet. Through a rift in the breaking clouds overhead came a +passing flash of the moon. + +"We'll find him now, Peter," moaned the girl. "We'll find him--now. He +can't be very far ahead--" + +And Peter waited, holding his breath, listening for an answer to the +cry that went out for Jolly Roger McKay. + +The glory of July midnight, with a round, full moon straight overhead, +followed the stress of storm. The world had been lashed and inundated, +every tree whipped of its rot and slag, every blade of grass and flower +washed clean. Out of the earth rose sweet smells of growing life, the +musky fragrance of deep moss and needle-mold, and through the clean air +drifted faintly the aroma of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of +unending canopies and glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into +the night. The deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an +invisible and mysterious life--life that was still, yet wide-awake, +breathing, watchful, drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air +which had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar of +wind and rain. And the moon, like a queen who had so ordered these +things, looked down in a mighty triumph. Her radiance, without dust or +fog or forest-smoke to impede its way, was like the mellow glow of +half-day. It streamed through the treetops in paths of gold and silver, +throwing dark shadows where it failed to penetrate, and gathering in +wide pools where its floods poured through broad rifts in the roofs of +the forest. And the trail, leading north, was like a river of +shimmering silver, splitting the wilderness from earth to sky. + +In this trail, clearly made in the wet soil, were Jolly Roger's +foot-prints, and in a wider space, where at some time a trapper had +cleared himself a spot for his tepee or shack, Jolly Roger had paused +to rest after his fight through the storm--and had then continued on +his way. And into this clearing, three hours after they left the +Missioner's cabin, came Nada and Peter. + +They came slowly, the girl a slim wraith in the moon-light; in the open +they stood for a moment, and Peter's heart weighed heavily within him +as his mistress cried out once more for Jolly Roger. Her voice rose +only in a sob, and ended in a sob. The last of her strength was gone. +Her little figure swayed, and her face was white and haggard, and in +her drawn lips and staring eyes was the agony of despair. She had lost, +and she knew that she had lost as she crumpled down in the trail, +crying out sobbingly to the footprints which led so clearly ahead of +her. + +"Peter, I can't go on," she moaned. "I can't--go on--" + +Her hands clutched at her breast. Peter saw the glint of the moonlight +on the ivory sheath of the Eskimo knife, and he saw her white face +turned up to the sky--and also that her lips were moving, but he did +not hear his name come from them, or any other sound. He whined, and +foot by foot began to nose along the trail on the scent left by Jolly +Roger. It was very clear to his nostrils, and it thrilled him. He +looked back, and again he whined his encouragement to the girl. + +"Peter!" she called. "Peter!" + +He returned to her. She had drawn the knife out of its scabbard, and +the cold steel glistened in her hand. Her eyes were shining, and she +reached out and clutched Peter close up against her, so that he could +hear the choke and throb of her heart. + +"Oh, Peter, Peter," she panted. "If you could only talk! If you could +run and catch Mister Roger, an' tell him I'm here, an' that he must +come back--" + +She hugged him closer. He sensed the sudden thrill that leapt through +her body. + +"Peter," she whispered, "will you do it?" + +For a few moments she did not seem to breathe. Then he heard a quick +little cry, a sob of inspiration and hope, and her arms came from about +him, and he saw the knife flashing in the yellow moonlight. + +He did not understand, but he knew that he must watch her carefully. +She had bent her head, and her hair, nearly dry, glowed softly in the +face of the moon. Her hands were fumbling in the disheveled curls, and +Peter saw the knife flash back and forth, and heard the cut of it, and +then he saw that in her hand she held a thick brown tress of hair that +she had severed from her head. He was puzzled. And Nada dropped the +knife, and his curiosity increased when she tore a great piece out of +her tattered dress, and carefully wrapped the tress of hair in it. Then +she drew him to her again, and tied the knotted fold of dress securely +about his neck; after that she tore other strips from her dress, and +wound them about his neck until he felt muffled and half smothered. + +And all the time she was talking to him in a half sobbing, excited +little voice, and the blood in Peter's body ran swifter, and the +strange thrill in him was greater. When she had finished she rose to +her feet, and stood there swaying back and forth, like one of the +spruce-top shadows, while she pointed up the moonlit trail. + +"Go, Peter!" she cried softly. "Quick! Follow him, Peter--catch +him--bring him back! Mister Roger--Jolly Roger--go, Peter! Go--go--go--" + +It was strange to Peter. But he was beginning to understand. He sniffed +in Jolly Roger's footprints, and then he looked up quickly, and saw +that it had pleased the girl. She was urging him on. He sniffed from +one footprint to another, and Nada clapped her hands and cried out that +he was right--for him to hurry--hurry-- + +Impulse, thought, swiftly growing knowledge of something to be done +thrilled in his brain. Nada wanted him to go. She wanted him to go to +Jolly Roger. And she had put something around his neck which she wanted +him to take with him. He whined eagerly, a bit excitedly. Then he began +to trot. Instinctively it was his test. She did not call him back. He +flattened his ears, listening for her command to return, but it did not +come. And then the thrill in him leapt over all other things. He was +right. He was not abandoning Nada. He was not running away. She WANTED +him to go! + +The night swallowed him. He became a part of the yellow floods of its +moonlight, a part of its shifting shadows, a part of its stillness, its +mystery, its promise of impending things. He knew that grim and +terrible happenings had come with the storm, and he still sensed the +nearness of tragedy in this night-world through which he was passing. +He did not go swiftly, yet he went three times as fast as the girl and +he had traveled together. He was cautious and watchful, and at +intervals he stopped and listened, and swallowed hard to keep the whine +of eagerness out of his throat. Now that he was alone every instinct in +him was keyed to the pulse and beat of life about him. He knew the +Night People of the deep forests were awake. Softly padded, clawed, +sharp-beaked and feathered--the prowlers of darkness were on the move. +With the stillness of shadows they were stealing through the moonlit +corridors of the wilderness, or hovering gray-winged and ghostly in the +ambuscades of the treetops, eager to waylay and kill, hungering for the +flesh and blood of creatures weaker than themselves. Peter knew. Both +heritage and experience warned him. And he watched the shadows, and +sniffed the air, and kept his fangs half bared and ready as he followed +the trail of McKay. + +He was not stirred by the impulse of adventure alone. Without the +finesse of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he had +sensed a responsibility. It was present in the closely drawn strips of +faded cloth about his neck. It was, in a way, a part of the girl +herself, a part of her flesh and blood, a part of her spirit--something +vital to her and dependent upon him. He was ready to guard it with +every instinct of caution and every ounce of courage there was in him. +And to protect it meant to fight. That was the first law of his breed, +the primal warning which came to him through the red blood of many +generations of wilderness forefathers. So he listened, and he watched, +and his blood pounded hot in his veins as he followed the footprints in +the trail. A bit of brush, swinging suddenly free from where it had +been prisoned by the storm, drew a snarl from him as he faced the sound +with the quickness of a cat. A gray streak, passing swiftly over the +trail ahead of him, stirred a low growl in his throat. It was a lynx, +and for a space Peter paused, and then sped soft-footed past the +moon-lit spot where the stiletto-clawed menace of the woods had passed. + +Now that he was alone, and no longer accompanied by a human presence +whose footsteps and scent held the wild things aloof and still, Peter +felt nearer and nearer to him the beat and stir of life. Powerful +beaks, instead of remaining closed and without sound, snapped and +hissed at him as the big gray owls watched his passing. He heard the +rustling of brush, soft as the stir of a woman's dress, where living +things were secretly moving, and he heard the louder crash of clumsy +and piggish feet, and caught the strong scent of a porcupine as it +waddled to its midnight lunch of poplar bark. Then the trail ended, and +Jolly Roger's scent led into the pathless forest, with its shifting +streams and pools of moonlight, its shadows and black pits of darkness. +And here--now--Peter began his trespass into the strongholds of the +People of the Night. He heard a wolf howl, a cry filled with +loneliness, yet with a shivering death-note in it; he caught the musky, +skunkish odor of a fox that was stalking prey in the face of a +whispering breath of wind; once, in a moment of dead stillness, he +listened to the snap of teeth and the crackle of bones in one of the +dark pits, where a fisher-cat--with eyes that gleamed like coals of +fire--was devouring the warm and bleeding carcass of a mother +partridge. And beaks snapped at him more menacingly as he went on, and +gray shapes floated over his head, and now and then he heard the cries +of dying things--the agonized squeak of a wood-mouse, the cry of a +day-bird torn from its sleeping place by a sinuous, beady-eyed creature +of fur and claw, the noisy screaming of a rabbit swooped upon and +pierced to the vitals by one of the gray-feathered pirates of the air. +And then, squarely in the center of a great pool of moonlight, Peter +came upon a monster. It was a bear, a huge mother bear, with two +butter-fat cubs wrestling and rolling in the moon glow. Peter had never +seen a bear. But the mother, who raised her brown nose suddenly from +the cool mold out of which she had been digging lily-bulbs, had seen +dogs. She had seen many dogs, and she had heard their howl, and she +knew that always they traveled with man. She gave a deep, chesty sniff, +and close after that sniff a WHOOF that startled the cubs like the +lashing end of a whip. They rolled to her, and with two cuffs of the +mother's huge paws they were headed in the right direction, and all +three crashed off into darkness. + +In spite of his swelling heart Peter let out a little yip. It was a +great satisfaction, just at a moment when his nerves were getting +unsteady, to discover that a monster like this one in the moonlight was +anxious to run away from him. And Peter went on, a bit of pride and +jauntiness in his step, his bony tail a little higher. + +A mile farther on, in another yellow pool of the moon, lay the partly +devoured carcass of a fawn. A wolf had killed it, and had fed, and now +two giant owls were rending and tearing in the flesh and bowels of what +the wolf had left. They were Gargantuans of their kind, one a male, the +other a female. Their talons warm in blood, their beaks red, their slow +brains drunk with a ravenous greed, they rose on their great wings in +sullen rage when Peter came suddenly upon them. He had ceased to be +afraid of owls. There was something shivery in the gritting of their +beaks, especially in the dark places, but they had never attacked him, +and had always kept out of his reach. So their presence in a black +spruce top directly over the dead fawn did not hold him back now. He +sniffed at the fresh, sweet meat, and hunger all at once possessed him. +Where the wolf had stripped open a tender flank he began to eat, and as +he ate he growled, so that warning of his possessorship reached the +spruce top. + +In answer to it came a stir of wings, and the male owl launched himself +out into the moon glow. The female followed. For a few moments they +floated like gray ghosts over Peter, silent as the night shadows. Then, +with the suddenness and speed of a bolt from a catapult, the giant male +shot out of a silvery mist of gloom and struck Peter. The two rolled +over the carcass of the fawn, and for a space Peter was dazed by the +thundering beat of powerful wings, and the hammering of the owl's beak +at the back of his neck. The male had missed his claw-hold, and driven +by rage and ferocity, fought to impale his victim from the ground, +without launching himself into the air again. Swiftly he struck, again +and again, while his wings beat like clubs. Suddenly his talons sank +into the cloth wrapped about Peter's neck. Terror and shock gave way to +a fighting madness inside Peter now. He struck up, and buried his fangs +in a mass of feathers so thick he could not feel the flesh. He tore at +the padded breast, snarling and beating with his feet, and then, as the +stiletto-points of the owl's talons sank through the cloth into his +neck, his jaws closed on one of the huge bird's legs. His teeth sank +deep, there was a snapping and grinding of tendon and bone, and a +hissing squawk of pain and fear came from above him as the owl made a +mighty effort to launch himself free. As the five-foot pinions beat the +air Peter was lifted from the ground. But the owl's talons were +hopelessly entangled in the cloth, and the two fell in a heap again. +Peter scarcely sensed what happened after that, except that he was +struggling against death. He closed his eyes, and the leg between his +jaws was broken and twisted into pulp. The wings beat about him in a +deafening thunder, and the owl's beak tore at his flesh, until the pool +of moonlight in which they fought was red with blood. At last something +gave way. There was a ghastly cry that was like the cry of neither bird +nor beast, a weak flutter of wings, and Gargantua of the Air staggered +up into the treetops and fell with a crash among the thick boughs of +the spruce. + +Peter raised himself weakly, the severed leg of the owl dropping from +his jaws. He was half blinded. Every muscle in his body seemed to be +torn and bleeding, yet in his discomfort the thrilling conviction came +to him that he had won. He tensed himself for another attack, hugging +the ground closely as he watched and waited, but no attack came. He +could hear the flutter and wheeze of his maimed adversary, and slowly +he drew himself back--still facing the scene of battle--until in a +farther patch of gloom he turned once more to his business of following +the trail of Jolly Roger McKay. + +There was no mark of bravado in his advance now. If he had possessed an +over-growing confidence, Gargantua's attack had set it back, and he +stole like a shifty fox through the night. Driven into his brain was +the knowledge that all things were not afraid of him, for even the +snapping beaks and floating gray shapes to which he had paid but little +attention had now become a deadly menace. His egoism had suffered a +jolt, a healthful reaction from its too swift ascendency. He sensed the +narrowness of his escape without the mental action of reasoning it out, +and his injuries were secondary to the oppressive horror of the uncanny +combat out of which he had come alive. Yet this horror was not a fear. +Heretofore he had recognized the ghostly owl-shapes of night more or +less as a curious part of darkness, inspiring neither like nor dislike +in him. Now he hated them, and ever after his fangs gleamed white when +one of them floated over his head. + +He was badly hurt. There were ragged tears in his flank and back, and a +last stroke of Gargantua's talons had stabbed his shoulder to the bone. +Blood dripped from him, and one of his eyes was closing, so that shapes +and shadows were grotesquely dim in the night. Instinct and caution, +and the burning pains in his body, urged him to lie down in a thicket +and wait for the day. But stronger than these were memory of the girl's +urging voice, the vague thrill of the cloth still about his neck, and +the freshness of Jolly Roger's trail as it kept straight on through the +forest's moonlit corridors and caverns of gloom. + +It was in the first graying light of July dawn that Peter dragged +himself up the rough side of a ridge and looked down into a narrow +strip of plain on the other side. Just as Nada had given up in weakness +and despair, so now he was almost ready to quit. He had traveled miles +since the owl fight, and his wounds had stiffened, and with every step +gave him excruciating pain. His injured eye was entirely closed, and +there was a strange, dull ache in the back of his head, where Gargantua +had pounded him with his beak. The strip of valley, half hidden in its +silvery mist of dawn, seemed a long distance away to Peter, and he +dropped on his belly and began to lick his raw shoulder with a feverish +tongue. He was sick and tired, and the futility of going farther +oppressed him. He looked again down into the strip of plain, and whined. + +Then, suddenly, he smelled something that was not the musty fog-mist +that hung between the ridges. It was smoke. Peter's heart beat faster, +and he pulled himself to his feet, and went in its direction. + +Hidden in a little grassy cup between two great boulders that thrust +themselves out from the face of the ridge, he found Jolly Roger. First +he saw the smouldering embers of a fire that was almost out--and then +his master. Jolly Roger was asleep. Storm-beaten and strangely haggard +and gray his face was turned to the sky. Peter did not awaken him. +There was something in his master's face that quieted the low whimper +in his throat. Very gently he crept to him, and lay down. The movement, +slight as it was, made the man stir. His hand rose, and then fell +limply across Peter's body. But the fingers moved. + +Unconsciously, as if guided by the spirit and prayer of the girl +waiting far back in the forest, they twined about the cloth around +Peter's neck--his message to his master. + +And for a long time after that, as the sun rose over a wonderful world, +Peter and his master slept. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the restlessness of Peter that roused Jolly Roger. Half awake, +and before he opened his eyes, life seized upon him where sleep had cut +it off for a time last night. His muscles ached. His neck was stiff. He +seemed weighted like a log to the hard earth. Swiftly the experience of +the preceding hours rushed upon him, and it was in the first of this +wakefulness that he felt the presence of Peter. + +He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the dog. The fact that Peter had +escaped from the cabin, and had followed him, was not altogether +amazing. It was quite the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. But +the unexpectedness of it held McKay speechless, and at first a little +disappointed. It was as if Peter had deliberately betrayed a trust. +During the storm and flight of the night McKay had thought of him as +the one connecting link remaining between him and the girl he loved. He +had left Peter to fill his place, to guard and watch and keep alive the +memory of the man who was gone. For him there had been something of +consolation in this giving up of his comradeship to Nada. And Peter had +turned traitor. + +Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was +passing behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay +squatted on his belly, with his nose straight out on the ground between +his forepaws. It was his attitude of self-immolation. His +acknowledgment of the other's right to strike with lash or club. Yet in +his eyes, bright and steady behind his mop of whiskers, Jolly Roger saw +a prayer. + +Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and in a +moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there was a +mighty something that reached from heart to heart of these two, and +Jolly Roger said, with a sound that was half laugh and half sob in his +throat, + +"Pied-Bot, you devil--you little devil--" + +His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart +jumped when he saw what it was--a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, +realizing that at last the importance of his mission was understood, +waited in eager watchfulness while his master untied the knot. And in +another moment, out in the clean and glorious sun that had followed +storm, McKay held the shining tress of Nada's hair. + +It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him crush +the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while strange quivers +ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness that was not rain +gathered in his eyes. + +"God bless her!" he whispered. And then he said, "I wish I was a kid, +Peter--a kid. Because--if I ever wanted to cry--IT'S NOW." + +In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his lips, +Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and looked +south, back over the trail he had followed through the blackness and +storm of night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada in Father John's +cabin, urging Peter out into the wild tumult of thunder and lightning +with that precious part of her which she knew he would love forever. +Her last message to him. Her last promise of love and faith until the +end of time. + +He guessed only the beginning of the truth. And Peter, denied the power +of thought transmission because of an error in the creation of things, +ran back a little way over the trail, trying to tell his master that +Nada had come with him through the storm, and was back in the deep +forest calling for him to return. + +But McKay's mind saw nothing beyond the dimly lighted room of the +Missioner's cabin. + +He pressed his lips to the silken tress of Nada's hair, still damp with +the rain; and after that, with the care of a miser he smoothed it out, +and tied the end of the tress tightly with a string, and put it away in +the soft buckskin wallet which he carried. + +There was a new singing in his heart as he gathered sticks with which +to build a small fire, for after this he would not travel quite alone. + +That day they went on; and day followed day, until August came, and +north--still farther north they went into the illimitable wilderness +which reached out in the drowsing stillness of the Flying-up-Month--the +month when newly fledged things take to their wings, and the deep +forests lie asleep. + +Days added themselves into weeks, until at last they were in the +country of the Reindeer waterways. + +To the east was Hudson's Bay; westward lay the black forests and +twisting waterways of Upper Saskatchewan; and north--always +north--beckoned the lonely plains and unmapped wildernesses of the +Athabasca, the Slave and the Great Bear--toward which far country their +trail was slowly but surely wending its way. + +The woodlands and swamps were now empty of man. Cabin and shack and +Indian tepee were lifeless, and waited in the desolation of +abandonment. No smoke rose in the tree-tops; no howl of dog came with +the early dawn and the setting sun; trap lines were over-growing, and +laughter and song and the ring of the trapper's axe were gone, leaving +behind a brooding silence that seemed to pulse and thrill like a great +heart--the heart of the wild unchained for a space from its human +bondage. + +It was the vacation time--the midsummer carnival weeks of the +wilderness people. Wild things were breeding. Fur was not good. Flesh +was unfit to kill. And so they had disappeared, man, woman and child, +and their dogs as well, to foregather at the Hudson's Bay Company's +posts scattered here and there in the fastnesses of the wilderness +lands. A few weeks more and they would return. Cabins would send up +their smoke again. Brown-faced children would play about the tepee +door. Ten thousand dwellers of the forests, white and half-breed and +Indian born, would trickle in twos and threes and family groups back +into the age-old trade of a domain that reached from Hudson's Bay to +the western mountains and from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. + +Until then nature was free, and in its freedom ran in riotous silence +over the land. These were days when the wolf lay with her young, but +did not howl; when the lynx yawned sleepily, and hunted but +little--days of breeding, nights of drowsy whisperings, and of big red +moons, and of streams rippling softly at lowest ebb while they dreamed +of rains and flood-time. And through it all--through the lazy drone of +insects, the rustling sighs of the tree-tops and the subdued notes of +living things ran a low and tremulous whispering, as if nature had +found for itself a new language in this temporary absence of man. + +To Jolly Roger this was Life, It breathed for him out of the cool +earth. He heard it over him, and under him, and on all sides of him +where other ears would have found only a thing vast and oppressive and +silent. On what he called these "motherhood days of the earth" the +passing years had built his faith and his creed. + +One evening he stopped for camp at the edge of the Burntwood. From his +feet reached out the wide river, ankle deep in places, knee deep in +others, rippling and singing between sandbars and driftwood where in +May and June it had roared with the fury of flood Peter, half asleep +after their day's travel through a hot forests watched his master. +Since their flight from the edge of civilization far south he had grown +heavier and broadened out. The hardship of adventuring and the craft of +fighting for food and life had whipped the last of his puppyhood behind +him At six months of age he was scarred, and lithe-muscled, and ready +for instant action at all times. Through the mop of Airedale whiskers +that covered his face his bright eyes were ever alert, and always they +watched the back-trail as he wondered why the slim, blue-eyed girl they +both loved and missed so much did not come. And vaguely he wondered why +it was that his master always went on and on, and never waited for her +to catch up with them. + +And Jolly Roger was changed. He was not the plump and rosy-faced +wilderness freebooter who whistled and sang away down at Cragg's Ridge +even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness of their +flight had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in his face. But +in his clear eyes was still the love of life--a thing even stronger +than the grief which was eating at his heart as their trail reached +steadily toward the Barren Lands. + +In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes saw his +master draw forth their treasure. + +It was something he had come to look for, and expect--once, twice, and +sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the setting of the +sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight for the day, Jolly +Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. Peter drew nearer to +where his master was sitting with his back to the big rock, and his +eyes glistened. Always he caught the sweet, illusive perfume of the +girl when Jolly Roger drew out their preciously guarded package. He +unwrapped it gently now, and in a moment held in his hands the tress of +Nada's hair, the last of her they would ever possess or see. And Peter +wondered again why they did not go back to where they had left the rest +of the girl. Many times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, +Jolly Roger had tried to make him understand. And Peter tried to +comprehend. But always in his dreams he was with the girl he loved, +following her, playing with her, fighting for her, hearing her +voice--feeling the touch of her hand. In his dog soul he wanted her, +just as Jolly Roger wanted her with all the yearning and heartbreak of +the man. Yet always when he awoke from his dreams they went on +again--not south--but north. To Peter this was hopeless mystery, and he +possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor could he speak in words +the message which he carried in his heart--that last crying agony of +the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of Roger McKay, +entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would always love in +spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the world. + +That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his master +crying out Nada's name in his sleep. + +And the next dawn they went on--still farther north. + +In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness +about him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were +struggling to break down the first law of his creed. The law might +catch him, and probably would, and when it caught him the law might +hang him--and probably would. But it would never KNOW him. There was +something grimly and tragically humorous in this. It would never know +of the consuming purity of his worship for little children, and old +people--and women. It would laugh at the religion he had built up for +himself, and it would cackle tauntingly if he dared to say he was not +wholly bad. For it believed he was bad, and it believed he had killed +Jed Hawkins, and he knew that seven hundred men were anxious to get +him, dead or alive. + +But was he bad? + +He took the matter up one evening, with Peter. + +"If I'm bad, mebby it isn't all my fault, Pied-Bot," he said. "Mebby +it's this--" and he swept his arms out to the gathering night. "I was +born in the open, on a night just like this is going to be. My mother, +before she died, told me many times how she watched the moon come up +that night, and how it seemed to look down on her, and talk to her, +like a living thing. And I've loved the moon ever since, and the sun, +and everything that's outdoors--and if there's a God I don't believe He +ever intended man to make a law that wasn't right according to the +plans He laid out. That's where I've got in wrong, Pied-Bot, I haven't +always believed in man-made law, and I've settled a lot of things in my +own way. And I guess I've loved trees and flowers and sunshine and wind +and storm too much. I've just wandered. And I've done things along the +way. The thrill of it got into me, Pied-Bot, and--the law wants me!" + +Peter heard the subdued humor of the man, a low laugh that held neither +fear nor regret. + +"It was the Treaty Money first," he went on, leaning very seriously +toward Peter, as if he expected an argument. "You see, Yellow Bird was +in that particular tribe, Pied-Bot. I remember her as she looked to me +when a boy, with her two long, shining black braids and her face that +was almost as beautiful to me as my mother's. My mother loved her, and +she loved my mother, and I loved Yellow Bird, just as a child loves a +fairy. And always Yellow Bird has been my fairy, Peter. I guess child +worship is the one thing that lasts through life, always remaining +ideal, and never forgotten. Years after my mother's death, when I was a +young man, and had been down to Montreal and Ottawa and Quebec, I went +back to Yellow Bird's tribe. And it was starving, Pied-Bot. Starving to +death!" + +Reminiscent tenderness and humor were gone from McKay's voice. It was +hard and flinty. + +"It was winter," he continued, "the dead of winter. And cold. So cold +that even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in. No fish that +autumn, no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were starving. +Pied-Bot, my heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird. There didn't seem +to be anything left of her but her eyes and her hair--those two great, +shining braids, and eyes that were big and deep and dark, like +beautiful pools. Boy, you never saw an Indian--an Indian like Yellow +Bird--cry. They don't cry very much. But when that childhood fairy of +mine first saw me she just stood there, swaying in her weakness, and +the tears filled those big, wide-open eyes and ran down her thin +cheeks. She had married Slim Buck. Two of their three children had died +within a fortnight. Slim Buck was dying of hunger and exhaustion. And +Yellow Bird's heart was broken, and her soul was crying out for God to +let her lie down beside Slim Buck and die with him--when I happened +along. + +"Peter--" Jolly Roger leaned over in the thickening dusk, and his eyes +gleamed. "Peter, if there's a God, an' He thinks I did wrong then, let +Him strike me dead right here! I'm willin'. I found out what the +trouble was. There was a new Indian Agent, a cur. And near the tribe +was a Free Trader, another cur. The two got together. The Agent sent up +the Treaty Money, and along with it--underground, mind you--he sent a +lot of whiskey to the Free Trader. Inside of five days the whiskey got +the Treaty Money from the Indians. Then came winter. Everything went +bad, When I came--and found out what had happened--eighteen out of +sixty had died, and inside of another two weeks half the others would +follow. Pied-Bot, away back--somewhere--there must have been a pirate +before me--mebby a great-grandfather of mine. I set out, I came back in +three days, and I had a sledge-load of grub, and warm things to +wear--plenty of them. My God, how those starving things did eat! I went +again, and returned in another week, with a still bigger sledge-load. +And Yellow Bird was getting beautiful again, and Slim Buck was on his +feet, growing strong, and there was happiness--and I think God A'mighty +was glad. I kept it up for two months. Then the back-bone of the winter +broke. Game came into the country I left them well supplied--and +skipped. That was what made me an outlaw, Pied-Bot. That!" + +He chuckled, and Peter heard the rubbing of his hands in the gloom. + +"Want to know why?" he asked. "Well, you see, I went over to the Free +Trader's, and this God the law don't take into account went with me, +and we found the skunk alone. First I licked him until he was almost +dead. Then, sticking a knife into him about half an inch, I made him +write a note saying he was called south suddenly, and authorizing me to +take charge in his absence. Then I chained him in a dugout in a place +where nobody would find him. And I took charge. Pied-Bot, I sure did! +Everybody was on the trap-lines, and I wasn't bothered much by callers. +And I fed and clothed my tribe for eight straight weeks, fed 'em until +they grew fat, Boy--and Yellow Bird's eyes were bright as stars again. +Then I brought Roach--that was his name--back to his empty post, and I +lectured him, an' gave him another licking--and left." + +McKay rose to his feet. The first stars were peeping out of the velvety +darkness of the sky, and Peter heard his master draw in a deep +breath--the breath of a man whose lungs rejoice in the glory of life. + +After a moment he said, + +"And the Royal Mounted have been after me ever since that winter, +Peter. And the harder they've chased me the more I've given them reason +to chase me. I half killed Beaudin, the Government mail-runner, because +he insulted another man's wife when that man--my friend--was away. Then +Beaudin, seeing his chance, robbed the mail himself, and the crime was +laid to me. Well, I got even, and stuck up a mail-sledge myself--but I +guess there was a good reason for it. I've done a lot of things since +then, but I've done it all with my naked fists, and I've never put a +bullet or a knife into a man except Roach the Free Trader. And the +funniest thing of the whole business, Pied-Bot, is this--I didn't kill +Jed Hawkins. Some day mebby I'll tell you about what happened on the +trail, the thing which you and Nada didn't see. But now--" + +For a moment he stood very still, and Peter sensed the sudden thrill +that was going through the man as he stood there in darkness. And then, +suddenly, Jolly Roger bent over him. + +"Peter, there's three women we'll love as long as we live," he +whispered. "There's my mother, and she is dead. There's Nada back +there, and we'll never see her again--" His voice choked for an +instant. "And then--there's Yellow Bird--" he added. "It's five years +since I fed the tribe. Mebby they've had more kids! Boy, let's go and +see!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +North and west, in the direction of Yellow Bird's people, went Jolly +Roger and Peter after that night. They traveled slowly and cautiously, +and with each day Peter came to understand more clearly there was some +reason why they must be constantly on their guard. His master, he +noticed, was thrillingly attentive whenever a sound came to their +ears--perhaps the cracking of a twig, a mysterious movement of brush, +or the tread of a cloven hoof. And instinctively he came to know they +were evading Man. He remembered vividly their escape from Cassidy and +their quiet hiding for many days in the mass of sun-baked rocks which +Jolly Roger had called the Stew-Kettle. The same vigilance seemed to be +a part of his master's movements now. He did not laugh, or sing, or +whistle, or talk loudly. He built fires so small that at first Peter +was absorbed in an almost scientific analysis of them; and instead of +shooting game which could have been easily secured he set little snares +in the evening, and caught fish in the streams. At night they always +slept half a mile or more from the place where they had built their +tiny supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep Peter was ready to +rouse himself at the slightest sound of movement near them. Scarcely a +night passed that his low growl of warning did not bring Jolly Roger +out of his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open. + +Whether he would have used the gun had the red-coated police suddenly +appeared, McKay had not quite assured himself. Day after day the same +old fight went on within him. He analyzed his situation from every +point of view, and always--no matter how he went about it--eventually +found himself face to face with the same definite fact. If the law +succeeded in catching Him it would not trouble itself to punish him for +stealing back the Treaty Money, or for holding up Government mails, or +for any of his other misdemeanors. It would hang him for the murder of +Jed Hawkins. And the minions of the law would laugh at the truth, even +if he told it--which he never would. More than once his imaginative +genius had drawn up a picture of that impossible happening. For it was +a truth so inconceivable that he found the absurdity of it a grimly +humorous thing. Even Nada believed he had killed her scoundrelly +foster-father. Yet it was she--herself--who had killed him! And it was +Nada whom the law would hang, if the truth was known--and believed. + +Frequently he went back over the scenes of that tragic night at Cragg's +Ridge when all the happiness in the world seemed to be offering itself +to him--the night when Nada was to go with him to the Missioner's, to +become his wife, And then--the dark trail--the disheveled girl +staggering to him through the starlight, and her sobbing story of how +Jed Hawkins had tried to drag her through the forest to Mooney's cabin, +and how--at last--she had saved herself by striking him down with a +stick which she had caught up out of the darkness. Would the police +believe HIM--an outlaw--if he told the rest of the story?--how he had +gone back to give Jed Hawkins the beating of his life, and had found +him dead in the trail, where Nada had struck him down? Would they +believe him if, in a moment of cowardice, he told them that to protect +the girl he loved he had fastened the responsibility of the crime upon +himself? No, they would not. He had made the evidence too complete. The +world would call him a lying yellow-back if he betrayed what had +actually happened on the trail between Cragg's Ridge and Mooney's cabin. + +And this, after all, was the one remaining bit of happiness in Jolly +Roger's heart, the knowledge that he had made the evidence utterly +complete, and that Nada would never know, and the world would never +know--the truth. His love for the blue-eyed girl-woman who had given +her heart and her soul into his keeping, even when she knew he was an +outlaw, was an undying thing, like his love for the mother of years +ago. "It will be easy to die for her," he told Peter, and this, in the +end, was what he knew he was going to do. Thought of the inevitable did +not make him afraid. He was determined to keep his freedom and his life +as long as he could, but he was fatalistic enough, and sufficiently +acquainted with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, to know what the +ultimate of the thing would be. And yet, with tragedy behind him, and a +still grimmer tragedy ahead, the soul of Jolly Roger was not dead or in +utter darkness. In it, waking and sleeping, he enshrined the girl who +had been willing to give up all other things in the world for him, who +had pleaded with him in the last hour of storm down on the edge of +civilization that she be given the privilege of accompanying him +wherever his fate might lead. That he was an outlaw had not destroyed +her faith in him. That he had killed a man--a man unfit to live--had +only drawn her arms more closely about him, and had made her more +completely a part of him. And a thousand times the maddening thought +possessed Jolly Roger--was he wrong, and not right, in refusing to +accept the love and companionship which she had begged him to accept, +in spite of all that had happened and all that might happen? + +Day by day he slowly won for himself, and at last, as they traveled in +the direction of Yellow Bird's country, he crushed the final doubt that +oppressed him, and knew that he was right. In his selfishness he had +not shackled her to an outlaw. He had left her free. Life and hope and +other happiness were ahead of her. He had not destroyed her, and this +thought would strengthen him and leave something of gladness in his +heart, even in that gray dawn when the law would compel him to make his +final sacrifice. + +It is a strange peace which follows grief, a secret happiness no other +soul but one can understand. Out of it excitement and passion have been +burned, and it is then the Great God of things comes more closely into +the possession of his own. And now, as they went westward and north +toward the Wollaston Lake country, this peace possessed Jolly Roger. It +mellowed his world. It was half an ache, half a steady and undying +pain, but it drew Life nearer to him than he had ever known it before. +His love for the sun and the sky, for the trees and flowers and all +growing things of the earth was more worship of the divine than a love +for physical things, and each day he felt it drawing more closely about +him in its comradeship, whispering to him of its might, and of its +power to care for him in the darkest hours of stress that might come. + +He did not travel fast after he had reached the decision to go to +Yellow Bird's people. And he tried to imagine, a great deal of the +time, that Nada was with him. He succeeded in a way that bewildered +Peter, for quite frequently the man talked to someone who was not there. + +The slowness and caution with which they traveled developed Peter's +mental faculties with marvelous swiftness. His master, free of egoism +and prejudice, had placed him on a plane of intimate equality, and +Peter struggled each day to live up a little more to the responsibility +of this intimacy and confidence. Instinct, together with human +training, taught him woodcraft until in many ways he was more clever +than his master. And along with this Jolly Roger slowly but surely +impressed upon him the difference between wanton slaughter and +necessary killing. + +"Everything that's got a breath of life must kill--up to a certain +point," Jolly Roger explained to him, repeating the lesson over and +over. "And that isn't wrong, Peter. The sin is in killing when you +don't have to. See that tree over there, with a vine as big as my wrist +winding around it, like a snake? Well, that vine is choking the life +out of the tree, and in time the tree will die. But the vine is doing +just what God A'mighty meant it to do. It needs a tree to live on. But +I'm going to cut the vine, because I think more of the tree than I do +the vine. That's MY privilege--following my conscience. And we're +eating young partridges tonight, because we had to have something to +keep us alive. It's the necessity of the thing that counts, Peter. +Think you can understand that?" + +It was pretty hard for Peter at first, but he was observant, and his +mind worked quickly. The crime of destroying birdlings in their nest, +or on the ground, was impressed upon him. He began to understand there +was a certain humiliating shame attached to an attack upon a creature +weaker than himself, unless there was a reason for it. He looked +chiefly to his master for decisions in the matter. Snowshoe rabbits, +young and half grown, were very tame in this month of August, and +ordinarily he would have destroyed many of them in a day's travel. But +unless Jolly Roger gave him a signal, or he was hungry, he would pass a +snowshoe unconcernedly. This phase of Peter's development interested +Jolly Roger greatly. The outlaw's philosophy had not been punctured by +the egotistical "I am the only reasoning being" arguments of +narrow-gauged nature scientists. He believed that Peter possessed not +only a brain and super-instinct, but also a very positive reasoning +power which he was helping to develop. And the process was one that +fascinated him. When he was not sleeping, or traveling, or teaching +Peter he was usually reading the wonderful little red volumes of +history which he had purloined from the mail sledge up near the Barren +Lands. He knew their contents nearly by heart. His favorites were the +life-stories of Napoleon, Margaret of Anjou, and Peter the Great, and +always when he compared his own troubles with the difficulties and +tragedies over which these people had triumphed he felt a new courage +and inspiration, and faced the world with better cheer. If Nature was +his God and Bible, and Nada his Angel, these finger-worn little books +written by a man half a century dead were voices out of the past urging +him on to his best. Their pages were filled with the vivid lessons of +sacrifice, of courage and achievement, of loyalty, honor and +dishonor--and of the crashing tragedy which comes always with the last +supreme egoism and arrogance of man. He marked the dividing lines, and +applied them to himself. And he told Peter of his conclusions. He felt +a consuming tenderness for the glorious Margaret of Anjou, and his +heart thrilled one day when a voice seemed to whisper to him out of the +printed page that Nada was another Margaret--only more wonderful +because she was not a princess and a queen. + +"The only difference," he explained to Peter, "is that Margaret +sacrificed and fought and died for a king, and our Nada is willing to +do all that for a poor beggar of an outlaw. Which makes Margaret a +second-rater compared with Nada," he added. "For Margaret wanted a +kingdom along with her husband, and Nada would take--just you and me. +And that's where we're pulling some Peter the Great stuff," he tried to +laugh. "We won't let her do it!" + +And so they went on, day after day, toward the Wollaston waterways--the +country of Yellow Bird and her people. + +It was early September when they crossed the Geikie and struck up the +western shore of Wollaston Lake. The first golden tints were ripening +in the canoe-birch leaves, and the tremulous whisper of autumn was in +the rustle of the aspen trees. The poplars were yellowing, the ash were +blood red with fruit, and in cool, dank thickets wild currants were +glossy black and lusciously ripe. It was the season which Jolly Roger +loved most of all, and it was the beginning of Peter's first September. +The days were still hot, but at night there was a bracing something in +the air that stirred the blood, and Peter found a sharp, new note in +the voices of the wild. The wolf howled again in the middle of the +night. The loon forgot his love-sickness, and screamed raucous defiance +at the moon. The big snowshoes were no longer tame, but wary and alert, +and the owls seemed to slink deeper into darkness and watch with more +cunning. And Jolly Roger knew the human masters of the wilderness were +returning from the Posts to their cabins and trap-lines, and he +advanced with still greater caution. And as he went, watching for smoke +and listening for sound, he began to reflect upon the many changes +which five years might have produced among Yellow Bird's people. +Possibly other misfortunes had come, other winters of hunger and +pestilence, scattering and destroying the tribe. It might even be that +Yellow Bird was dead. + +For three days he followed slowly the ragged shore of Wollaston Lake, +and foreboding of evil was oppressing him when he came upon the +fish-racks of the Indians. They had been abandoned for many days, for +black bear tracks fairly inundated the place, and Peter saw two of the +bears--fat and unafraid--nosing along the shore where the fish offal +had been thrown. + +It was the next day, in the hour before sunset, that Jolly Roger and +Peter came out on the edge of a shelving beach where Indian children +were playing in the white sand. Among these children, playing and +laughing with them, was a woman. She was tall and slim, with a skirt of +soft buckskin that came only a little below her knees, and two shining +black braids which tossed like velvety ropes when she ran. And she was +running when they first saw her--running away from them, pursued by the +children; and then she twisted suddenly, and came toward them, until +with a startled cry she stopped almost within the reach of Jolly +Roger's hands. Peter was watching. He saw the half frightened look in +her face, then the slow widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake +of her breath. And in that moment Jolly Roger cried out a name. + +"Yellow Bird!" + +He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years had +touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out her hands +to him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and Peter wondered +what it was all about as he cautiously eyed the half dozen brown-faced +little Indian children who had now gathered quietly about them. In +another moment there was an interruption. A girl came through the +fringe of willows behind them. It was as if another Yellow Bird had +come to puzzle Peter--the same slim, graceful little body, the same +shining eyes, and yet she was half a dozen years younger than Nada. For +the first time Peter was looking at Sun Cloud, the daughter of Yellow +Bird. And in that moment he loved her, just as something gave him +confidence and faith in the starry-eyed woman whose hands were in his +master's. Then Yellow Bird called, and the girl went to her mother, and +Jolly Roger hugged her in his arms and kissed her on the scarlet mouth +she turned up to him. Then they hurried along the shore toward the +fishing camp, the children racing ahead to tell the news, led by Sun +Cloud--with Peter running at her heels. + +[Illustration: They hurred to the camp, the children racing ahead to +tell the news] + +Never had Peter heard anything from a man's throat like the two yells +that came from Slim Buck, Yellow Bird's husband and chief of the tribe, +after he had greeted Jolly Roger McKay. It was a note harking back to +the old war trails of the Crees, and what followed it that night was +most exciting to Peter. Big fires were built of white driftwood, and +there was singing and dancing, and a great deal of laughter and eating, +and the interminable howling of half a hundred Siwash dogs. Peter did +not like the dogs, but he did no fighting because his love for Sun +Cloud kept him close to the touch of her little brown hand. + +That night, in the glow of the big fire outside of Slim Buck's tepee, +Jolly Roger's heart thrilled with a pleasure which it had not known for +a long time. He loved to look at Yellow Bird. Five years had not +changed her. Her eyes were starry bright. Her teeth were like milk. The +color still came and went in her brown cheeks, even as it did in Sun +Cloud's. All of which, in this heart of a wilderness, meant that she +had been happy and prosperous. And he also loved to look at Sun Cloud, +who possessed all of that rare wildflower beauty sometimes given to the +northern Crees. And it did him good to look at Slim Buck. He was a +splendid mate, and a royal father, and Jolly Roger found himself +strangely happy in their happiness. In the eyes of men and women and +little children he saw that happiness all about him. For three winters +there had been splendid trapping, Slim Buck told him, and this season +they had caught and dried enough fish to carry them through the +following winter, even if black days should come. His people were rich. +They had many warm blankets, and good clothes, and the best of tepees +and guns and sledges, and several treasures besides. Two of these +Yellow Bird and her husband disclosed to Jolly Roger this first night. +One of them was a sewing machine, and the other--a phonograph! And +Jolly Roger listened to "Mother Machree" and "The Rosary" that night as +he sat by Wollaston Lake with six hundred miles of wilderness between +him and Cragg's Ridge. + +Later, when the camp slept, Yellow Bird and Slim Buck and Jolly Roger +still sat beside the red embers of their fire, and Jolly Roger told of +what had happened down at the edge of civilization. It was what his +heart needed, and he left out none of the details. Slim Buck was +listening, but Jolly Roger knew he was talking straight at Yellow Bird, +and that her warm heart was full of understanding. Softly, in that low +Cree voice which is the sweetest of all voices, she asked him many +questions about Nada, and gently her slim fingers caressed the tress of +Nada's hair which he let her take in her hands. And after a long time, +she said. + +"I have given her a name. She is Oo-Mee, the Pigeon." + +Slim Buck started at the strange note in her voice. + +"The Pigeon," he repeated, + +"Yes, Oo-Mee, the Pigeon," Yellow Bird nodded. She was not looking at +them. In the firelight her eyes were glowing pools. Her body had grown +a little tense. Without asking Jolly Roger's permission she placed the +tress of Nada's hair in her bosom. "Oo-Mee, the Pigeon," she said +again, looking far away. "That is her name, because the Pigeon flies +fast and straight and true. Over forests and lakes and worlds the +Pigeon flies. It is tireless. It is swift. It always--flies home." + +Slim Buck rose quietly to his feet. + +"Come," he whispered, looking at Jolly Roger, + +Yellow Bird did not look at them or speak to them, and Slim Buck--with +his hand on Jolly Roger's arm--pulled him gently away. In his eyes was +a little something of fear, and yet along with it a sublime faith. + +"Her spirit will be with Oo-Mee, the Pigeon, tonight," he said in a +voice struck with awe. "It will go to this place which you have +described, and it will live in the body of the girl, and through Yellow +Bird it will tell you tomorrow what has happened, and what is going to +happen." + +In the edge of the shore-willows Jolly Roger stood for a time watching +Yellow Bird as she sat under the stars, motionless as a figure graven +out of stone. He felt a curious tingling at his heart, something +stirring uneasily in his breast, and he stood alone even after Slim +Buck had stretched himself out in the soft sand to sleep. He was not +superstitious. Yet it was equally a part of his philosophy and his +creed to believe in the overwhelming power of the mind. "If you have +faith enough, and think hard enough, you can think anything until it +comes true," he had told himself more than once. And he knew Yellow +Bird possessed that illimitable faith, and that behind her divination +lay generations and centuries of an unbreakable certainty in the power +of mind over matter. He realized his own limitations, but a mysterious +voice in the still night seemed whispering to him that in the crude +wisdom of Yellow Bird's brain lay the secret to strange achievement, +and that on this night her mind might perform for him what he, in his +greater wisdom, would call a miracle. He had seen things like that +happen. And he sat down in the sand, sleepless, and with Peter at his +feet waited for Yellow Bird to stir. + +He could see the dull shimmer of starlight in her hair, but the rest of +her was a shadow that gave no sign of life. The camp was asleep. Even +the dogs were buried in their wallows of sand, and the last red spark +of the fires had died out. The hour passed, and another hour followed, +and the lids of Jolly Roger's eyes grew heavier as the fading stars +seemed to be sinking deeper into infinity. At last he slept, with his +back leaning against a sand-dune the children had made. He dreamed, and +was flying through the air with Yellow Bird. She was traveling swift +and straight, like an arrow, and he had difficulty in keeping up with +her, and at last he cried out for her to wait--that he could go no +farther. The cry roused him. He opened his eyes, and found cool, gray +dawn in the sky. Peter, alert, was muzzling his hand. Slim Buck lay in +the sand, still asleep. There was no stir in the camp. And then, with a +sudden catch in his breath, he looked toward Yellow Bird's tepee. + +Yellow Bird still sat in the sand. Through the hours of fading +starlight and coming dawn she had not moved. Slowly McKay rose to his +feet. When he came to her, making no sound, she looked up. The shimmer +of glistening dew was in her hair. Her long lashes were wet with it. +Her face was very pale, and her eyes so large and dark that for a +moment they startled him. She was tired. Exhaustion was in her slim, +limp body. + +A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders swayed a little. + +"Sit down, Neekewa," she whispered, drawing the ropes of her hair about +her as if she were cold. + +Then she drew a slim hand over her eyes, and shivered. + +"It is well, Neekewa," she spoke softly. "I have gone through the +clouds to where lives Oo-Mee, the Pigeon. I found her crying in a +trail. I whispered to her and happiness came, and that happiness is +going to live--for Neekewa and The Pigeon. It cannot die. It cannot be +killed. The Red Coated men of the Great White Father will never destroy +it. You will live. She will live. You will meet again--in happiness. +And happiness will follow ever after. That much I learned, Neekewa. In +happiness--you will meet again." + +"Where? When?" whispered Jolly Roger, his heart beating with sudden +swiftness. + +Again Yellow Bird passed her hand over her eyes, and as she held it +there for a moment she bowed her head until Jolly Roger could see only +her dew-wet hair and she said, + +"In the Country Beyond, Neekewa." + +Her eyes were looking at him again, big, dark and filled with mystery. + +"And where is this country, Yellow Bird?" he asked, a strange chill +driving the warmth out of his heart. "You mean--up there?" And he +pointed to the gray sky above them. + +"No, it is happiness to come in life, not in death," said Yellow Bird +slowly. "It is not beyond the stars. It is--" + +He waited, leaning toward her. + +"In the Country Beyond," she repeated with a tired little droop of her +head. "And where that is I do not know, Neekewa. I could not pass +beyond the great white cloud that shut me out. But it is--somewhere, I +will find it. And then I will tell you--and The Pigeon." + +She stood up, and swayed in the gray light, like one worn out by hard +travel. Then she passed into the tepee, and Jolly Roger heard her fall +on her blanket-bed. + +And still stranger whisperings filled his heart as he faced the east, +where the first red blush of day drove back the star-mists of dawn. He +heard a step in the soft sand, and Slim Buck stood beside him. And he +asked. + +"Did you ever hear of the Country Beyond?" Slim Buck shook his head, +and both looked in silence toward the rising sun. + +Peter was glad when the camp roused itself out of sleep with waking +voices, and laughter, and the building of fires. He waited eagerly for +Sun Cloud. At last she came out of Yellow Bird's tepee, rubbing her +eyes in the face of the glow in the east, and then her white teeth +flashed a smile of welcome at him. Together they ran down to the edge +of the lake, and Peter wagged his tail while Sun Cloud went out +knee-deep and scrubbed her pretty face with handfuls of the cool water. +It was a happy day for him. He was different from the Indian dogs, and +Sun Cloud and her playmates made much of him. But never, even in their +most exciting play, did he entirely lose track of his master. + +Jolly Roger, to an extent, forgot Peter. He tried to deaden within him +the impulses which Yellow Bird's conjuring had roused. He tried to see +in them a menace and a danger, and he repeated to himself the folly of +placing credence in Yellow Bird's "medicine." But his efforts were +futile, and he was honest enough to admit it. The uneasiness was in his +breast. A new hope was rising up. And with that hope were fear and +suspense, for deep in him was growing stronger the conviction that what +Yellow Bird would tell him would be true. He noted the calm and +dignified stiffness with which Slim Buck greeted the day. The young +chief passed quietly among his people. A word traveled in whispers, +voices and footsteps were muffled and before the sun was an hour high +there was no tepee standing but one on that white strip of beach. And +the one tepee was Yellow Bird's. + +Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird come +out into the day. She saw the food placed at her tepee door. She saw +the empty places where the homes of her people had stood, and in the +wet sand of the beach the marks of their missing canoes. Then she +turned her pale face and tired eyes to the sun, and unbraided her hair +so that it streamed glistening all about her and covered the white sand +when she sat down again in front of the smoke-darkened canvas that had +become her conjurer's house. + +Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp. But Slim +Buck and Jolly Roger remained in the cover of a wooded headland only +half a mile from Yellow Bird. They saw her when she came out. They +watched for an hour after she sat down in the sand. And then Slim Buck +grunted, and with a gesture of his hands said they would go. Jolly +Roger protested. It was not safe for Yellow Bird to remain entirely +beyond their protection. There were bears prowling about. And human +beasts occasionally found their way through the wilderness. But Slim +Buck's face was like a bronze carving in its faith and pride. + +"Yellow Bird only goes with the good spirits," he assured Jolly Roger. +"She does not do witchcraft with the bad. And no harm can come while +the good spirits are with her. It is thus she has brought us happiness +and prosperity since the days of the famine, Neekewa!" + +He spoke these words in Cree, and McKay answered him in Cree as they +turned in the direction of the camp. Half way, Sun Cloud came to meet +them, with Peter at her side. She put a brown little hand in Jolly +Roger's. It was quite new and pleasant to be kissed as Jolly Roger had +kissed her, and she held up her mouth to him again. Then she ran ahead, +with Peter yipping foolishly and happily at her moccasined heels. + +And Jolly Roger said, + +"I wish I was your brother, Slim Buck, and Nada was Yellow Bird's +sister--and that I had many like her," and his eyes followed Sun Cloud +with hungry yearning. + +And as he said these words, Yellow Bird sat with bowed head and closed +eyes, with the soft tress of Nada's hair in her hands. It was the +physical union between them, and all that day, and the night that +followed, Yellow Bird held it in her hand or against her breast as she +struggled to send out the soul that was in her on its mission to Oo-Mee +the Pigeon. In darkness she buried the food that was left her, and +stamped on it with her feet. The sacrifice of her body had begun, and +for two days thereafter Jolly Roger and Slim Buck saw no movement of +life about the lone tepee in the sand. + +But the third morning they saw the smoke of a little greenwood fire +rising straight up from in front of it. + +Slim Buck drew in a deep breath. It was the signal fire. + +"She knows," he said, pointing for Jolly Roger to go. "She is calling +you!" + +The tenseness was gone from the bronze muscles of his face. He was +lonely without Yellow Bird, and the signal fire meant she would be with +him again soon. Jolly Roger walked swiftly over the white beach. Again +he tried to tell himself what folly it all was, and that he was +answering the signal-fire only to humor Yellow Bird and Slim Buck. But +words, even spoken half aloud, did not quiet the eager beating of his +heart. + +Not until he was very near did Yellow Bird come out of the tepee. And +it was then Jolly Roger stopped short, a gasp on his lips. She was +changed. Her radiant hair was still down, polished smooth; but her face +was whiter than he had ever seen it, and drawn and pinched almost as in +the days of the famine. For two days and two nights she had taken no +food, and for two days and two nights she had not slept. But there was +triumph in her big, wide-open eyes, and Jolly Roger felt something +strange rising up in his breast. + +Yellow Bird held out her hands toward him. + +"We have been together, The Pigeon and I," she said. "We have slept in +each other's arms, and the warmth of her head has lain against my +breast. I have learned the secrets, Neekewa--all but one. The spirits +will not tell me where lies the Country Beyond. But it is not up +there--beyond the stars. It is not in death, but in life you will find +it. That they have told me. And you must not go back to where The +Pigeon lives, for you will find black desolation there--but always you +must keep on and on, seeking for the Country Beyond. You will find it. +And there also you will find The Pigeon--and happiness. You cannot +fail, Neekewa, yet my heart stings me that I cannot tell you where that +strange country is. But when I came to it gold and silver clouds shut +it in, and I could see nothing, and yet out of it came the singing of +birds and the promise of sweet voices that it shall be found--if you +seek faithfully, Neekewa. I am glad." + +Each word that she spoke in her soft and tremulous Cree was a new +message of hope in the empty heart of Jolly Roger McKay. The world +might laugh. Men might tap their heads and smile. His own voice might +argue and taunt. But deep in his heart he believed. + +Something of the radiance of the new day came into his face, even as it +was returning into Yellow Bird's. He looked about him--east, west, +north and south--upon the sunlit glory of water and earth, and suddenly +he reached out his arms. + +"I'll find it, Yellow Bird," he cried. "I'll find this place you call +the Country Beyond! And when I do--" + +He turned and took one of Yellow Bird's slim hands in both his own. + +"And when I do, we'll come back to you, Yellow Bird," he said. + +And like a cavalier of old he touched his lips gently to the palm of +Yellow Bird's little brown hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird and +Slim Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back to +his own people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in Yellow +Bird's breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces of +the old softened when he came near and spoke to them; little children +followed him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to be +kissed. For the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home. +The northland Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, and the +sun-filled days and the starry nights seemed overflowing with the +promise of all time. Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and +each day Slim Buck urged him to remain with them always. + +But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did not +urge. Each day and night she was watching--and waiting. + +And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass. + +It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it. +This restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body, +still for a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds in +the sky and the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, of +unseen forces chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressive +lifelessness. + +There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as if +in flight. + +There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed. + +In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the +wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness +of death enshrouding it. + +At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was like +oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackened +and seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling the +shore of the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indian +dogs. From them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping of +a jaw, and in the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepees +was the spell of this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of +itself. Men, women and little children twisted and rolled, or lay +awake, and weird and distorted shapes and fancies came in dreams. + +In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the +gray blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud, +tossing on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it +lay across her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with +its silken strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide +awake, she was thinking--thinking as Slim Buck--would never be able to +think, back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and +when a little white boy--the woman's son--had called Yellow Bird "my +fairy." + +In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's red +lips parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they were +pleasing days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly in +her mind until the day when the little boy--a man grown--came to save +her tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim +Buck her husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. +The spirits had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept +her still beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, +and Slim Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people were +happy. And all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the +gloom of the sky outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, "the little boy +grown up"--Jolly Roger McKay. + +As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits were +whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster and her +eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to be +accusing her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay had +come in that winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almost +killed, that she and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That +was the beginning, and the thrill of it had got into the blood of +Neekewa, her "little white brother grown up." And now he was out there, +alone with his dog in the night--and the red-coated avengers of the law +were hunting him. They wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the +killing of a man. + +Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid of +Sun Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let the +soul go out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, +her white brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done +right to think of killing. + +Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than he +had already suffered--and that in the Country Beyond he would find Nada +the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did not +disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. But +the unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried to lift +herself to the whisperings above the tepee top. But they were +unintelligible, like many voices mingling, and with them came a dull +fear into her soul. + +She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, +and placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so +quietly that even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. +Through the tepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as +if now she might hear more clearly, and understand. + +For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in the +air, and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there was +no threat of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, with +starlight breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of +thunder or wail of wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to +stop its beating, and her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She +began to understand, and a strange thrill crept into her. The spirits +had put a great burden upon the night so that it might drive sleep from +her eyes. They were warning her. They were telling her of danger, +approaching swiftly, almost impending. And it was peril for the white +man who was sleeping somewhere near. + +Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making +no sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston. + +And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shone +through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in the +gloom. + +Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flat +mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter was +wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bony +body was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, though he +heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of a +fugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent and +velvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. +He, too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this +night of stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless +movements of his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the +name which he had spoken three times in the last five minutes of his +sleep. + +It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the old +way, as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his hands +struck the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up. The +sky had cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in that +starlight Jolly Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. At +first he thought it was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raised +to her. Then he saw it was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes looking +at him steadily and strangely as he awakened. + +He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It was +cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenly +her eyes swept from him out into the night. + +"Listen, Neekewa!" + +Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the +beating of her heart. + +"Twice I have heard it," she whispered then. "Neekewa, you must go!" + +"Heard what?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Something--I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And I +saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it all +about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is very +near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?" + +"I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird." + +"And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. "That +sound--as if wood strikes on wood!" + +"The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird." + +She drew her hand away. + +"Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree. "The spirits have +made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloud +twitches and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying out +the name of Nada--Oo-Mee the Pigeon--when I came to you. I know. It is +danger. It is very near. And it is danger for you." + +"And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace were +coming to me, Yellow Bird," reminded Jolly Roger. "The spirits, you +said, promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada again +in that strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spirits +changed their message, because the night is heavy?" + +Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness. + +"No, they have not changed," she whispered. "They have spoken the +truth. They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. +They have tried to tell me where lies this place they call the Country +Beyond--where you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud always +comes between. And they are trying to tell me what the danger is off +there--in the darkness." Suddenly she caught his arm. "Nee-kewa, DID +YOU HEAR?" + +"A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird." + +He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw +Peter's muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake. + +"What is it, Pied-Bot?" he asked. + +Peter whimpered again. + +Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm. + +"Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me--the +red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a night +like this." + +"They are coming," she replied. "I cannot hear or see, but they are +coming!" + +Her fingers tightened. + +"And they are near," she cried softly. + +"You are nervous, Yellow Bird," he said, thinking of the two days and +three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor taken +food, that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. "There +is no danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you." + +"It has warned me," she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue +at his side. "Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not +forgotten that winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine +and sickness--when I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes +even in sleep, fearing she would never open them again. They have not +forgotten how all that winter you robbed the white people over on the +Des Chenes, that we might live. If they remember those things, and lie, +I would not be afraid to curse them. But they do not lie." + +Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange +something was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. She +did not look at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow +notes of a bird, she was saying: + +"You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again +for a long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must +believe. Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The +spirits have said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the +Pigeon--and happiness. But if you go back to the place where you left +The Pigeon when you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will +find only blackness and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. +If you disbelieve--" + +She stopped. + +"You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it the +croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water. +IT WAS A PADDLE!" + +In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened. + +"Yes, a paddle," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. +"Probably it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird." + +She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out to +him. Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars, +and for an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips. + +"Goodby, Neekewa," she whispered. + +And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly +she ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out +again with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched +as Yellow Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, and +stood there, waiting for the strange canoe to pass--or come in. It was +approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, but +growing clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it +against the star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. +Before the canoe reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the +water and hailed it. + +A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped like a +shot beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. His +master's hand warned him, and together they slipped back into the +shadows, and from under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth his +pack, and quietly strapped it over his shoulders while he waited and +listened. + +And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly. + +"It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?" + +A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter--looking up--thought +for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphone +of his hands, and called very clearly out into the night. + +"Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?" + +Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific +danger. There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no sound +anywhere. For a few moments a death-like stillness followed Jolly +Roger's words. + +Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the +decisive clearness of a bullet coming from a gun. + +"Yes, this is Cassidy--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, Royal +Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?" + +"Yes, it's me," replied Jolly Roger. "Does the wager still hold, +Cassidy?" + +"It holds." + +There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again. + +"Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!" + +With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger and +Peter had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas. +Cassidy's Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes +they listened for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and +last came Yellow Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in +their excitement. Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, and +suspicious of something that was in her face. He went back to the +beach. There he caught himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp +exclamation from his lips. + +His canoe and outfit were gone! + +Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter as +Yellow Bird ran to her tepee. + +And from the mist of water--far out--came a voice, the voice of Jolly +Roger McKay. + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + +With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog. + +In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy head +close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up +thankfully to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the +spirits had whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still +farther away, her straining ears heard again the cry, + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In Cassidy's canoe, driving himself with steady strokes deeper into the +mystery of the starlit waters of Wollaston, Jolly Roger felt the night +suddenly filled with an exhilarating tonic. Its deadness was gone. Its +weight had lifted. A ripple broke the star gleams where an increasing +breeze touched the surface of the lake. And the thrill of adventure +stirred in his blood. He laughed as he put his skill and strength in +the sweep of his paddle, and for a time the thought that he was an +outlaw, and in losing Nada had lost everything in life worth righting +for, was not so oppressive. It was the old, joyous laugh, stirred by +his sense of humor, and the trick he had played on Cassidy. He could +imagine Cassidy back on the shore, his temper redder than his hair as +he cursed and tore up the sand in his search for another canoe. + +"We're inseparable," Jolly Roger explained to Peter. "Wherever I go, +Cassidy is sure to follow. You see, it's this way. A long time ago +someone gave Cassidy what they call an assignment, and in that +assignment it says 'go get Jolly Roger McKay, dead or alive'--or +something to that effect. And Cassidy has been on the job ever since. +But he can't quite catch up with me, Pied-Bot. I'm always a little +ahead." + +And yet, even as he laughed, there was in Jolly Roger's heart a +yearning to which he had never given voice. Half a dozen times he might +have killed Cassidy, and an equal number of times Cassidy might have +killed him. But neither had taken advantage of the opportunity to +destroy. They had played the long and thrilling game like men, and +because of the fairness and sportsmanship of the man who hunted him +Jolly Roger thought of Cassidy as he might have thought of a brother, +and more than once he yearned to go to him, and hold out his hand in +friendship. Yet he knew Corporal Cassidy was the deadliest menace the +earth held for him, a menace that had followed him like a shadow +through months and years--across the Barren Lands, along the rim of the +Arctic, down the Mackenzie, and back again--a menace that never tired, +and was never far behind in that ten thousand miles of wilderness they +had covered. Together in the bloodstirring game of One against One they +had faced the deadliest perils of the northland. They had gone hungry, +and cold, and more than once a thousand miles of nothingness lay behind +them, and death seemed preferable to anything that might lie ahead. Yet +in that aloneness, when companionship was more precious than anything +else on earth, neither had cried quits. The game had gone on, Cassidy +after his man--and Jolly Roger McKay fighting for his freedom. + +As he headed his canoe north and east, Jolly Roger thought again of the +wager made weeks ago down at Cragg's Ridge, when he had turned the +tables on Cassidy and when Cassidy had made a solemn oath to resign +from the service if he failed to get his man in their next encounter. +He knew Cassidy would keep his word, and something told him that +tonight the last act in this tragedy of two had begun. He chuckled +again as he pictured the probable course of events on shore. Cassidy, +backed by the law, was demanding another canoe and a necessary outfit +of Slim Buck. Slim Buck, falling back on his tribal dignity, was +killing all possible time in making the preparations. When pursuit was +resumed Jolly Roger would have at least a mile the start of the +red-headed nemesis who hung to his trail. And Wollaston Lake, sixty +miles from end to end, and half as wide, offered plenty of room in +which to find safety. + +The rising of the wind, which came from the south and west, was +pleasing to Jolly Roger, and he put less caution and more force into +the sweep of his paddle. For two hours he kept steadily eastward, and +then swung a little north, guiding himself by the stars. With the +breaking of dawn he made out the thickly wooded shore on the opposite +side of the lake from Slim Buck's camp, and before the sun was half an +hour high he had drawn up his canoe at the tip of a headland which gave +him a splendid view of the lake in all directions. + +From this point, comfortably encamped in the cool shadows of a thick +clump of spruce, Jolly Roger and Peter watched all that day for a sign +of their enemy. As far as the eye could reach no movement of human life +appeared on the quiet surface of Wollaston. Not until that hazy hour +between sunset and dusk did he build a fire and cook a meal from the +supplies in Cassidy's pack, for he knew smoke could be discerned much +farther than a canoe. Yet even as he observed this caution he was +confident there was no longer any danger in returning to Yellow Bird +and her people. + +"You see, Pied-Bot," he said, discussing the matter with Peter, while +he smoked a pipeful of tobacco in the early evening, "Cassidy thinks +we're on our way north, as fast as we can go. He'll hit for the upper +end of the Lake and the Black River waterway, and keep right on into +the Porcupine country. It's a big country up there, and we've always +taken plenty of space for our travels. Shall we go back to Yellow Bird, +Peter? And Sun Cloud?" + +Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked the +questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He wanted to +go back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged by a great +loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his loss of Nada, and +understood how empty life had become for him. She had, in a way, become +a part of Nada; her presence raised him out of despair, her voice gave +him hope, her unconquerable spirit--fighting for his +happiness--inspired him until he saw light where there had been only +darkness. The impelling desire to return to her brought him to his feet +and down to the pebbly shore of the lake, where the water rippled +softly in the thickening gloom. But a still more powerful force held +him back, and he went to his blankets, spread over a thick couch of +balsam boughs. For hours his eyes were wide open and sleepless. + +He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt--a +charitable inclination to half believe--gave way in him to a conviction +which he could not fight down. More than once in his years of +wilderness life strange facts had compelled him to give some credence +to the power of the Indian conjurer. Belief in the mastery of the mind +was part of his faith in nature. It had come to him from his mother, +who had lived and died in the strength of her creed. + +"Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true," she +had told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it possible +she had told him the truth? Had her mind actually communed with the +mind of Nada? Had she, through the sheer force of her illimitable +faith, projected her subconscious self into the future that she might +show him the way? His eyes were staring, his ears unhearing, as he +thought of the proof which Yellow Bird had given to him. A few hours +ago she had brought him warning of impending danger. There had been no +hesitation and no doubt. She had come to him unequivocal and sure. +Without seeing, without hearing, she knew Cassidy was stealing upon him +through the night. + +In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. Without +effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, Yellow Bird had +given him a test of her power. It had been a spontaneous and unstaged +thing, a woman's heart reaching out for him--as she had promised that +it would. And yet, even as the simplicity and truth of it pressed upon +him, doubt followed with its questions. If, after this, Yellow Bird had +told him to return to Nada as swiftly as he could, he would have +believed, and this night would have seen him on his way. But she had +warned him against this, predicting desolation and grief if he +returned. She had urged him to go on, somewhere, anywhere, seeking for +an illusion and an unreality which the spirits had named, to her as the +Country Beyond. And when he reached this Country Beyond, wherever it +might be, he would possess Nada again, and happiness for all time. +After all, there was something archaically crude in what he was trying +to believe, when he came to analyze it. Yellow Bird possessed her +powers, but they were definitely limited. And to believe beyond those +limitations, to ride upon the wings of superstition and imagination, +was sheer savagery. + +Jolly Roger stretched himself upon his blankets again, repeating this +final argument to himself. But as the night drew closer about him, and +his eyes closed, and sleep came, there was a lightness in his heart +which he had not known for many days. He dreamed, and his dream was of +Nada. He was with her again and it seemed, in this dream, that Yellow +Bird was always watching them, and they could not quite get away from +her. They ran through the jackpine openings where the strawberries and +blue violets grew, and he always ran behind Nada, so he could see her +brown curls flying about her. + +But they never could rid themselves of Yellow Bird, no matter how fast +they ran or where they tried to hide. From somewhere Yellow Bird's dark +eyes would look out at them, and finally, laughing at his own +discomfiture, he drew Nada down beside him in a little fen, white and +yellow and blue with wildflowers, and boldly took her head in his arms +and kissed her--with Yellow Bird looking at them from behind a banksian +clump twenty feet away. So real was the kiss, and so real the warm +pressure of Nada's slim arms about his neck that he awoke with a glad +cry--and sat up to find the dawn had come. + +For a few moments he sat stupidly, looking about him as if not quite +believing the unreality of it all. Then with Peter he went down to the +edge of the lake. + +All that day Peter sensed a quiet change in his master. Jolly Roger did +not talk. He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly when he moved +at all, with a set, strange look in his face. He was making his last +big fight against the desire to return to Cragg's Ridge. Yellow Bird's +predictions, and her warning, had no influence with him now. He was +thinking of Nada alone. She was back there, waiting for him, praying +for his return, ready and happy to become a fugitive with him--to +accept her chances of life or death, of happiness or grief, in his +company. A dozen times the determination to return for her almost won. +But each time came the other picture--a vision of ceaseless flight, of +hiding, of hunger and cold and never ending hardship, and at the last, +inevitable as the dawning of another day--prison, and possibly the +hangman. + +Not until late that afternoon did Peter see the old Jolly Roger in the +face of his master. And Jolly Roger said: + +"We've made up our mind, Pied-Bot. We can't go back. We'll hit north +and spend the winter along the edge of the Barren Lands. It's the +biggest country I know of, and if Cassidy comes--" + +He shrugged his shoulders grimly. + +In half an hour they had started, with the sun beginning to sink in the +west. + +For two days Jolly Roger and Peter paddled their way slowly up the +eastern shore of Wollaston. That he had correctly analyzed the mental +arguments which would guide Cassidy in his pursuit Jolly Roger had +little doubt. He would keep to the west shore, and up through the +Hatchet Lake and Black River waterways, as his quarry had never failed +to hit straight for the farther north in time of peril. Meanwhile Jolly +Roger had decided to make his way without haste up the east shore of +Wollaston, and paddle north and east through the Du Brochet and +Thiewiaza River waterways. If these courses were followed, each hour +would add to the distance between them, and when the way was safe they +would head straight for the Barren Lands. + +Peter, and only Peter, sensed the glory of that third afternoon when +they paddled slowly ashore close to the shimmering stream of spring +water that was called Limping Moose Creek. The sun was still two hours +high in the west. There was no wind, and Wollaston was like a mirror; +yet in the still air was the clean, cool tang of early autumn, and +shoreward the world reached out in ridges and billows of tinted +forests, with a September haze pulsing softly over them, fleecy as the +misty shower of a lady's powder puff. It was destined to be a memorable +afternoon for Peter, a going down of the sun that he would never forget +as long as he lived. + +Yet there was no warning of the thing impending, and his eyes saw only +the mystery and wonder of the big world, and his ears heard only the +drowsing murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet scents of +cedars and balsams and of flowering and ripening things. Straight +ahead, beyond the white shore line, was a low ridge, and this +ridge--where it was not purple and black with the evergreen--was red +with the crimson blotches of mountain-ash berries, and patches of fire +flowers that glowed like flame in the setting sun. + +From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly the +voice and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A big jay was +screeching over it all, and between the first ridge and the +second--which rose still higher beyond it--a cloud of crows were +circling excitedly over a mother black bear and her half grown cubs as +they feasted on the red ash berries. But Peter could not smell the +bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows were of less interest than +the wonder and mystery of the shore close at hand. + +He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his +master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes. +The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to +Peter. Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a +chaos of loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams. +Love of life was gone out of him. He saw no beauty. The sun had +changed. The sky was different. The bigness of his wilderness no longer +thrilled him, but oppressed him. + +Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the +reason for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so Jolly +Roger had changed for Peter. + +They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter jumped +out. A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the shore ahead of +him. He perked up his angular ears, and then his nose caught a fresh +scent under his feet where a porcupine had left his trail. And he heard +more clearly the raucous tumult of the jay and the musical chattering +of the red squirrels. + +All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and life +thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days ago. He +adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green willows and +the young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers that fringed the +beginning of the forest. It had rained recently here, and the scents +were fresh and sweet. + +He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its luscious black +berries, and began nibbling at them. A gopher, coming to his supper +bush, gave a little squeak of annoyance, and Peter saw the bright eyes +of the midget glaring at him from under a big fern leaf. Peter wagged +his tail, for the savagery of his existence was qualified by that +mellowing sense of humor which had always been a part of his master. He +yipped softly, in a companionable sort of way. + +And then there smote upon his ears a sound which hardened every muscle +in his body. + +"Throw up your hands, McKay!" + +He turned his head. Close to him stood a man. In an instant he had +recognized him. It was the man whose scent he had first discovered down +at Cragg's Ridge, the man from whom his master was always running away, +the man whose voice he had heard again at Yellow Bird's Camp a few +nights ago--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police. + +Twenty paces away stood McKay. His dunnage was on his back, his paddle +in his hand. And Cassidy, smiling grimly, a dangerous humor in his +eyes, was leveling an automatic at his breast. It was, in that instant, +a tableau which no man could ever forget. Cassidy was bareheaded, and +the sun burned hotly in his red hair. And his face was red, and in the +pale blue of his Irish eyes was a fierce joy of achievement. At last, +after months and years, the thrilling game of One against One was at an +end. Cassidy had made the last move, and he was winner. + +For half a minute after the command to throw up his hands McKay did not +move. And Cassidy did not repeat the command, for he sensed the shock +that had fallen upon his adversary, and was charitable enough to give +him time. And then, with something like a deep sigh from between his +lips, Jolly Roger's body sagged. The dunnage dropped from his shoulder +to the sand. The paddle slipped from his hand. Slowly he raised his +arms above his head, and Cassidy laughed softly. + +A few days ago McKay would have grinned back, coolly, good humoredly, +appreciative of the other's craftsmanship even in the hour of his +defeat. But today there was another soul within him. + +His eyes no longer saw the old Cassidy, brave and loyal to his duty, a +chivalrous enemy, the man he had yearned to love as brother loves +brother, even in the hours of sharpest pursuit. In Cassidy he saw now +the hangman himself. The whole world had turned against him, and in +this hour of his greatest despair and hopelessness a bitter fate had +turned up Cassidy to deal him the finishing blow. + +A swift rage burned in him, even as he raised his hands. It swept +through his brain in a blinding inundation. He did not think of the +law, or of death, or of freedom. It was the unfairness of the thing +that filled his soul with the blackness of one last terrible desire for +vengeance. Cassidy's gun, leveled at his breast, meant nothing. A +thousand guns leveled at his breast would have meant nothing. A choking +sound came from his lips, and like a shot his right hand went to his +revolver holster. + +In that last second or two Cassidy had foreseen the impending thing, +and with the movement of the other's hand he cried out: + +"Stop! For God's sake stop--or I shall fire!" + +Even into the soul of Peter there came in that moment the electrical +thrill of something terrific about to happen, of impending death, of +tragedy close at hand. Once, a long time ago, Peter had felt another +moment such as this--when he had buried his fangs in Jed Hawkins' leg +to save Nada. + +In that fraction of a second which carried Peter through space, +Corporal Cassidy's finger was pressing the trigger of his automatic, +for McKay's gun was half out of its holster. He was aiming at the +other's shoulder, somewhere not to kill. + +The shock of Peter's assault came simultaneously with the explosion of +his gun, and McKay heard the hissing spit of the bullet past his ear. +His arm darted out. And as Peter buried his teeth deeper into Cassidy's +leg, he heard a second shot, and knew that it came from his master. +There was no third. Cassidy drooped, and something like a little laugh +came from him--only it was not a laugh. His body sagged, and then +crumpled down, so that the weight of him fell upon Peter. + +For many seconds after that Jolly Roger stood with his gun in his hand, +not a muscle of his body moving, and with something like stupor in his +staring eyes. Peter struggled out from under Cassidy, and looked +inquisitively from his master to the man who lay sprawled out like a +great spider upon the sand. It was then that life seemed to come back +into Jolly Roger's body. His gun fell, as if it was the last thing in +the world to count for anything now, and with a choking cry he ran to +Cassidy and dropped upon his knees beside him. + +"Cassidy--Cassidy--" he cried. "Good God, I didn't mean to do it! +Cassidy, old pal--" + +The agony in his voice stilled the growl in Peter's throat. McKay saw +nothing for a space, as he raised Cassidy's head and shoulders, and +brushed back the mop of red hair. Everything was a blur before his +eyes. He had killed Cassidy. He knew it. He had shot to kill, and not +once in a hundred times did he miss his mark. At last he was what the +law wanted him to be--a murderer. And his victim was Cassidy--the man +who had played him fairly and squarely from beginning to end, the man +who had never taken a mean advantage of him, and who had died there in +the white sand because he had not shot to kill. With sobbing breath he +cried out his grief, and then, looking down, he saw the miracle in +Cassidy's face. The Irishman's eyes were wide open, and there was pain, +and also a grin, about his mouth. + +"I'm glad you're sorry," he said. "I'd hate to have a bad opinion of +you, McKay. But--you're a rotten shot!" + +His body sagged heavily, and the grin slowly left his lips, and a moan +came from between them. He struggled and spoke. + +"It may be--you'll want help, McKay. If you do--there's a cabin half a +mile up the creek. Saw the smoke--heard axe--I don't blame you. You're +a good sport--pretty quick--but--rotten shot! Oh, +Lord--such--rotten--shot--" + +And he tried vainly to grin up into Jolly Roger's face as he became a +lifeless weight in the other's arms. + +Jolly Roger was sobbing. He was sobbing, in a strange, hard +man-fashion, as he tore open Cassidy's shirt and saw the red wound that +went clean through Cassidy's right breast just under the shoulder. And +Peter still heard that strange sound coming from his lips, a moaning as +if for breath, as his master ran and brought up water, and worked over +the fallen man. And then he got under Cassidy, and rose up with him on +his shoulders, and staggered off with him toward the creek. There he +found a path, a narrow foot trail, and not once did he stop with his +burden until he came into a little clearing, out of which Cassidy had +seen the smoke rising. In this clearing was a cabin, and from the cabin +came an old man to meet him--an old man and a girl. + +At first something shot up into Peter's throat, for he thought it was +Nada who came behind the grizzled and white-headed man. There was the +same lithe slimness in her body, the same brown glint in her hair, and +the same--but he saw then that it was not Nada. She was older. She was +a bit taller. And her face was white when she saw the bleeding burden +on Jolly Roger's back. + +"I shot him," panted McKay. "God knows I didn't mean to! I'm afraid--" + +He did not finish giving voice to the fear that Cassidy was dead--or +dying, and for a moment he saw only the big staring eyes of the girl as +the gray-bearded man helped him with his burden. Not until the Irishman +was on a cot in the cabin did he discover how childishly weak he had +become and what a terrific struggle he had made with the weight on his +shoulders. He sank into a chair, while the old trapper worked over +Cassidy. + +He heard the girl call him grandfather. She was no longer frightened, +and she moved like a swift bird about the cabin, getting water and +bandages and pillows, and the sight of fresh blood and of Cassidy's +dead-white face brought a glow of tenderness into her eyes. McKay, +sitting dumbly, saw that her hands were doing twice the work his own +could have accomplished, and not until he heard a low moan from the +wounded man did he come to her side. + +"The bullet went through clean as a whistle," the old man said. "Lucky +you don't use soft nosed bullets, friend." + +A deep sigh came from Cassidy's lips. His eyelids fluttered, and then +slowly his eyes opened. The girl was bending over him, and Cassidy saw +only her face, and the brown sheen of her hair. + +"He'll live?" Jolly Roger said tremulously. + +The older man remained mute. It was Cassidy, turning his head a little, +who answered weakly. + +"Don't worry, McKay. I'll--live." + +Jolly Roger bent over the cot, between Cassidy and the girl. Gently he +took one of the wounded man's hands in both his own. + +"I'm sorry, old man," he whispered. "You won, fair and square. And I +won't go far away. I'll be waiting for you when you get on your feet. I +promise that. I'll wait." + +A wan smile came over Cassidy's lips, and then he moaned again, and his +eyes closed. The girl thrust Jolly Roger back. + +"No--you better not go far, an' you better wait," she said, and there +was an unspoken thing in the dark glow of her eyes that made him think +of Nada on that day when she told him how Jed Hawkins had struck her in +the cabin at Cragg's Ridge. + +That night Jolly Roger made his camp close to the mouth of the Limping +Moose. And for three days thereafter his trail led only between this +camp and the cabin of old Robert Baron and his granddaughter, Giselle. +All this time Cassidy was telling things in a fever. He talked a great +deal about Jolly Roger. And the girl, nursing him night and day, with +scarcely a wink of sleep between, came to believe they had been great +comrades, and had been inseparable for a long time. Even then she would +not let McKay take her place at Cassidy's side. The third day she +started him off for a post sixty miles away to get a fresh supply of +bandages and medicines. + +It was evening, three days later, when Jolly Roger and Peter returned. +The windows of the cabin were brightly lighted, and McKay came up to +one of these windows and looked in. Cassidy was bolstered up in his +cot. He was very much alive, and on the floor at his side, sitting on a +bear rug, was the girl. A lump rose in Jolly Roger's throat. Quietly he +placed the bundle which he had brought from the post close up against +the door, and knocked. When Giselle opened it he had disappeared into +darkness, with Peter at his heels. + +The next morning he found old Robert and said to him: + +"I'm restless, and I'm going to move a little. I'll be back in two +weeks. Tell Cassidy that, will you?" + +Ten minutes later he was paddling up the shore of Wollaston, and for a +week thereafter he haunted the creeks and inlets, always on the move. +Peter saw him growing thinner each day. There was less and less of +cheer in his voice, seldom a smile on his lips, and never did his laugh +ring out as of old. Peter tried to understand, and Jolly Roger talked +to him, but not in the old happy way. + +"We might have finished him, an' got rid of him for good," he said to +Peter one chilly night beside their campfire. "But we couldn't, just +like we couldn't have brought Nada up here with us. And we're going +back. I'm going to keep that promise. We're going back, Peter, if we +hang for it!" + +And Jolly Roger's jaw would set grimly as he measured the time between. + +The tenth day came and he set out for the mouth of the Canoe River. On +the afternoon of the twelfth he paddled slowly into Limping Moose +Creek. Without any reason he looked at his watch when he started for +old Robert's cabin. It was four o'clock. He was two days ahead of his +promise, and there was a bit of satisfaction in that. There was an odd +thumping at his heart. He had faith in Cassidy, a belief that the +Irishman would call their affair a draw, and tell him to take another +chance in the big open. He was the sort of man to live up to the letter +of a wager, when it was honestly made. But, if he didn't-- + +Jolly Roger paused long enough to take the cartridges from his gun. +There would be no more shooting'--on his part. + +The mellow autumn sun was flooding the open door of the cabin when he +came up. He heard laughter. It was Giselle. She was talking, too. And +then he heard a man's voice--and from far off to his right came the +chopping of an axe. Old Robert was at work. Giselle and Cassidy were at +home. + +He stepped up to the door, coughing to give notice of his approach. And +then, suddenly, he stopped, staring thunderstruck at what was happening +within. + +Terence Cassidy was sitting in a big chair. The girl was behind him. +Her white arms were around his neck, her face was bent down, her lips +were kissing him. + +In an instant Cassidy's eyes had caught him. + +"Come in," he cried, so suddenly and so loudly that it startled the +girl. "McKay, come in!" + +Jolly Roger entered, and the girl stood up straight behind Cassidy's +chair, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with the glow of the +sunset. And Terence Cassidy was grinning in that old triumphant way as +he leaned forward in his chair, gripping the arms of it with both hands. + +"McKay, you've lost," he cried. "I'm the winner!" + +In the same moment he took the girl's hand and drew her from behind his +chair. + +"Giselle, do as you said you were going to do. Prove to him that I've +won." + +Slowly she came to Jolly Roger. Her cheeks were like the red of the +sunset. Her eyes were flaming. Her lips were parted. And dumbly he +waited, and wondered, until she stood close to him. Then, swiftly, her +arms were around his neck, and she kissed him. In an instant she was +back on her knees at the wounded man's side, her burning face hidden +against him, and Cassidy was laughing, and holding out both hands to +McKay. + +"McKay, Roger McKay, I want you to meet Mrs. Terence Cassidy, my wife," +he said. And the girl raised her face, so that her shining eyes were on +Jolly Roger. + +Still dumbly he stood where he was. + +"The Missioner from Du Brochet was here yesterday, and married us," he +heard Cassidy saying. "And we've written out my resignation together, +old man. We've both won. I thank God you put that bullet into me down +on the shore, for it's brought me paradise. And here's my hand on it, +McKay--forever and ever!" + +Half an hour later, when McKay stumbled out into the forest trail +again, his eyes were blinded by tears and his heart choked by a new +hope as big as the world itself. Yellow Bird was right, and God must +have been with her that night when her soul went to commune with +Nada's. For Yellow Bird had proved herself again. And now he believed +her. + +He believed in the world again. He believed in love and happiness and +the glory of life, and as he went down the narrow trail to his canoe, +with Peter close behind him, his heart was crying out Nada's name and +Yellow Bird's promise that sometime--somewhere--they two would find +happiness together, as Giselle and Terence Cassidy had found it. + +And Peter heard the chopping of the distant axe, and the song of birds, +and the chattering of squirrels--but thrilling his soul most of all was +the voice of his master, the old voice, the glad voice, the voice he +had first learned to love at Cragg's Ridge in the days of blue violets +and red strawberries, when Nada had filled his world. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +McKay still had his mind on a certain stretch of timber that reached +out into the Barren Lands, hundreds of miles farther north. In this +hiding place, three years before, he had built himself a cabin, and had +caught foxes during half the long winter. Not only the cabin, but the +foxes, were drawing him. Necessity was close upon his heels. What +little money he possessed after leaving Cragg's Ridge was exhausted, +his supplies were gone, and his boots and clothes were patched with +deer hide. + +In the Snowbird Lake country, a week after he left Cassidy in his +paradise at Wollaston, he fell in with good fortune. Two trappers had +come in from Churchill. One of them was sick, and the other needed help +in the building of their winter cabin. McKay remained with them for ten +days, and when he continued his journey northward his pack was stuffed +with supplies, and he wore new boots and more comfortable clothes. + +It was the middle of October when he found his old cabin, a thousand +miles from Cragg's Ridge. It was as he had left it three years ago. No +one had opened its door since then. The little box stove was waiting +for a fire. Behind it was a pile of wood. On the table were the old tin +dishes, and hanging from babiche cords fastened to the roof timbers, +out of reach of mice and ermine, were blankets and clothing and other +possessions he had left behind him in that winter break-up of what +seemed like ages ago to him. He raised a small section in the floor, +and there were his traps, thickly coated with caribou grease. For half +an hour before he built a fire he sought eagerly for the things he had +concealed here and there. He found oil, and a tin lamp, and candles, +and as darkness of the first night gathered outside a roaring fire sent +sparks up the chimney, and the little cabin's one window glowed with +light, and the battered old coffee pot bubbled and steamed again, as if +rejoicing at his return. + +With the breaking of another day he immediately began preparations for +the season's trapping. In two days' hunting he killed three caribou, +his winter meat. Then he cut wood, and made his strychnine poison +baits, and marked out his trap-lines. + +The first of November brought the chill whisperings of an early winter +through the Northland. Farther south autumn was dying, or dead. The +last of the red ash berries hung shriveled and frost-bitten on naked +twigs, freezing nights were nipping the face of the earth, the voices +of the wilderness were filled with a new note and the winds held +warning for every man and beast between Hudson's Bay and the Great +Slave and from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. Seven years before +there had come such a winter, and the land had not forgotten it--a +winter sudden and swift, deadly in its unexpectedness, terrific in its +cold, bringing with it such famine and death as the Northland had not +known for two generations. + +But this year there was premonition. Omen of it came with the first +wailing night winds that bore the smell of icebergs from over the black +forests north and west. The moon came up red, and it went down red, and +the sun came up red in the morning. The loon's call died a month ahead +of its time. The wild geese drove steadily south when they should have +been feeding from the Kogatuk to Baffin's Bay, and the beaver built his +walls thick, and anchored his alders and his willows deep so that he +would not starve when the ice grew heavy. East, west, north and south, +in forest and swamp, in the trapper's cabin and the wolf's +hiding-place, was warning of it. Gray rabbits turned white. Moose and +caribou began to herd. The foxes yipped shrilly in the night, and a new +hunger and a new thrill sent the wolves hunting in packs, while the +gray geese streaked southward under the red moon overhead. + +Through this November, and all of December, Jolly Roger and Peter were +busy from two hours before dawn of each day until late at night. The +foxes were plentiful, and McKay was compelled to shorten his lines and +put out fewer baits, and on the tenth of December he set out for a +fur-trading post ninety miles south with two hundred and forty skins. +He had made a toboggan, and a harness for Peter, and pulling together +they made the trip in three days, and on the fourth started for the +cabin again with supplies and something over a thousand dollars in cash. + +Through the weeks of increasing storm and cold that followed, McKay +continued to trap, and early in February he made another trip to the +fur post. + +It was on their return that they were caught in the Black Storm. It +will be a long time before the northland will forget that storm. It was +a storm in which the Sarcees died to a man, woman and child over on the +Dubawnt waterways, and when trees froze solid and split open with the +sharp explosions of high-power guns. In it, all furred and feathered +life and all hoof and horn along the edge of the Barren Lands from +Aberdeen Lake to the Coppermine was swallowed up. It was in this storm +that streams froze solid, and the man who was cautious fastened a +babiche rope about his waist when he went forth from his cabin for wood +or water, so that his wife might help to pull and guide him back +through that blinding avalanche of wind and freezing fury that held a +twisted and broken world in its grip. + +In the country west of Artillery Lake and south of the Theolon River, +Jolly Roger and Peter were compelled to "dig in." They were in a +country where the biggest stick of wood that thrust itself up out of +the snow was no bigger than McKay's thumb; a country of green grass and +succulent moss on which the caribou fed in season, but a hell on earth +when arctic storm howled and screamed across it in winter. + +Piled up against a mass of rock Jolly Roger found a huge snow drift. +This drift was as long as a church and half as high, with its outer +shell blistered and battered to the hardness of rock by wind and sleet. +Through this shell he cut a small door with his knife, and after that +dug out the soft snow from within until he had a room half as big as +his cabin, and so snug and warm after a little with the body heat of +himself and Peter that he could throw off the thick coat which he wore. + +To Peter, in the first night of this storm, it seemed as though all the +people in the world were shrieking and wailing and sobbing in the +blackness outside. Jolly Roger sat smoking his pipe at intervals in the +gloom, though there was little pleasure in smoking a pipe in darkness. +The storm did not oppress him, but filled him with an odd sense of +security and comfort. The wind shrieked and lashed itself about his +snow-dune, but it could not get at him. Its mightiest efforts to +destroy only beat more snow upon him, and made him safer and warmer. In +a way, there was something of humor as well as tragedy in its wild +frenzy, and Peter heard him laugh softly in the darkness. More and more +frequently he had heard that laugh since those warm days of autumn when +they had last met the red-headed man, Terence Cassidy, of the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police, and his master had shot him on the white +shore of Wollaston. + +"You see," said McKay, caressing Peter's hairy neck in the gloom. +"Everything is turning out right for us, and I'm beginning to believe +more and more what Yellow Bird told us, and that in the end we're going +to be happy--somewhere--with Nada. What do you think, Pied-Bot? Shall +we take a chance, and go back to Cragg's Ridge in the spring?" + +Peter wriggled himself in answer, as a wild shriek of wind wailed over +the huge snow-dune. + +Jolly Roger's fingers tightened at Peter's neck. + +"Well, we're going," he said, as though he was telling Peter something +new. "I'm believing Yellow Bird, Pied-Bot. I'm believing her--now. What +she told us was more than fortune-telling. It wasn't just Indian +sorcery. When she shut herself up and starved for those three days and +nights in her little conjurer's house, just for you and me--SOMETHING +HAPPENED. Didn't it? Wouldn't you say something happened?" + +Peter swallowed and his teeth clicked as he gave evidence of +understanding. + +"She told us a lot of truth," went on Jolly Roger, with deep faith in +his voice "And we must believe, Pied-Bot. She told us Cassidy was +coming after us, and he came. She said the spirits promised her the law +would never get us, and we thought it looked bad when Cassidy had us +covered with his gun on the shore at Wollaston. But something more than +luck was with us, and we shot him. Then we brought him back to life and +lugged him to a cabin, and the little stranger girl took him, and +nursed him, and Cassidy fell in love with her--and married her. So +Yellow Bird was right again, Pied-Bot. We've got to believe her. And +she says everything is coming out right for us, and that we are going +back to Nada, and be happy--" + +Jolly Roger's pipe-bowl glowed in the blackness. + +"I'm going to light the alcohol lamp," he said. "We can't sleep. And I +want a good smoke. It isn't fun when you can't see the smoke. Too bad +God forgot to make you so you could use a pipe, Peter. You don't know +what you are missing--in times like these." + +He fumbled in his pack and found the alcohol lamp, which was fresh +filled and screwed tight. Peter heard him working for a moment in the +darkness. Then he struck a match, and the yellow flare of it lighted up +his face. In his joy Peter whined. It was good to see his master. And +then, in another moment, the little lamp was filling their white-walled +refuge with a mellow glow. Jolly Roger's eyes, coming suddenly out of +darkness, were wide and staring. His face was covered with a scrub +beard. But there was something of cheer about him even in this night of +terror outside, and when he had driven his snowshoe into the snow wall, +and had placed the lamp on it, he grinned companionably at Peter. + +Then, with a deep breath of satisfaction, he puffed out clouds of smoke +from his pipe, and stood up to look about their room. + +"Not so bad, is it?" he asked. "We could have a big house here if we +wanted to dig out rooms--eh, Peter? Parlors, and bed-rooms, and a +library--and not a policeman within a million miles of us. That's the +nice part of it, PIED-BOT--none of the Royal Mounties to trouble us. +They would never think of looking for us in the heart of a big +snow-dune out in this God-forsaken barren, would they?" + +The thought was a pleasing one to Jolly Roger. He spread out his +blankets on the snow floor, and sat down on them, facing Peter. + +"We've got 'em beat," he said, a chuckling note of pride in his voice. +"The world is small when it comes to hiding, Pied-Bot, but all the +people in it couldn't find us here--not in a million years. If we could +only find a place as safe as this--where a girl could live--and had +Nada with us--" + +Many times during the past few weeks Peter had seen the light that +flamed up now in his master's eyes. That, and the strange thrill in +Jolly Roger's voice, stirred him more than the words to which he +listened, and tried to understand. + +"And we're GOING to," finished McKay, almost fiercely, his hands +clenching as he leaned toward Peter. "We have made a big mistake, +Pied-Bot, and it has taken us a long time to see it. It will be hard +for us to leave our north country, but that is what we must do. Maybe +Yellow Bird's good spirits meant that when they said we would find +happiness with Nada in a place called The Country Beyond. There are a +lot of 'Countries Beyond,' Peter, and as soon as the spring break-up +comes and we can travel without leaving trails behind us we will go +back to Cragg's Ridge and get Nada, and hit for some place where the +law won't expect to find us. There's China, for instance. A lot of +yellow people. But what do we care for color as long as we have her +with us? I say--" + +Suddenly he stopped. And Peter's body grew tense. Both faced the round +hole, half filled with softly packed snow, which McKay had cut as a +door into the heart of the big drift. They had grown accustomed to the +tumult of the storm. Its strange wailings and the shrieking voices +which at times seemed borne in the moaning sweep of it no longer sent +shivers of apprehension through Peter. But in that moment when both +turned to listen there came a sound which was not like the other sounds +they had heard. It was a voice--not one of the phantom voices of the +screaming wind, but a voice so real and so near that for a beat or two +even Jolly Roger McKay's heart stood still. It was as if a man, +standing just beyond their snow barricade, had shouted a name. But +there came no second call. The wind lulled, so that for a space there +was stillness outside. + +Jolly Roger laughed a little uneasily. + +"Good thing we don't believe in ghosts, Peter, or we would swear it was +a Loup-Garou smelling us through the wall!" He thumbed the tobacco down +in his pine, and nodded. "Then--there is South America," he said. "They +have everything down there--the biggest rivers in the world, the +biggest mountains, and so much room that even a Loup-Garou couldn't +hunt us out. She will love it, Pied-Bot. But if it happens she likes +Africa better, or Australia, or the South Sea--Now, what the devil was +that?" + +Peter had jumped as if stung, and for a moment Jolly Roger sat tense as +a carven Indian. Then he rose to his feet, a look of perplexity and +doubt in his eyes. + +"What was it, Peter? Can the wind shoot a gun--like THAT?" + +Peter was sniffing at the loosely blocked door of their snow-room. A +whimper rose in his throat. He looked up at Jolly Roger, his eyes +glowing fiercely through the mass of Airedale whiskers that covered his +face. He wanted to dig. He wanted to plunge out into the howling +darkness. Slowly McKay beat the ash out of his pipe and placed the pipe +in his pocket. + +"We'll take a look," he said, something repressive in his voice. "But +it isn't reasonable, Peter. It is the wind. There couldn't be a man out +there, and it wasn't a rifle we heard. It is the wind--with the devil +himself behind it!" + +With a few sweeps of his hands and arms he scooped out the loose snow +from the hole. The opening was on the sheltered side of the drift, and +only the whirling eddies of the storm swept about him as he thrust out +his head and shoulders. But over him it was rushing like an avalanche. +He could hear nothing but the moaning advance of it. And he could see +nothing. He held out his hand before his face, and blackness swallowed +it. + +"We have been chased so much that we're what you might call +super-sensitive," he said, pulling himself back and nodding at Peter in +the gray light of the alcohol lamp. "Guess we'd better turn in, boy. +This is a good place to sleep--plenty of fresh air, no mosquitoes or +black flies, and the police so far away that we will soon forget how +they look. If you say so we will have a nip of cold tea and a bite--" + +He did not finish. For a moment the wind had lessened in fury, as if +gathering a deeper breath. And what he heard drew a cry from him this +time, and a sharper whine from Peter. Out of the blackness of the night +had come a woman's voice! In that first instant of shock and amazement +he would have staked his life that what he heard was not a mad outcry +of the night or an illusion of his brain. It was clear--distinct--a +woman's voice coming from out on the Barren, rising above the storm in +an agony of appeal, and dying out quickly until it became a part of the +moaning wind. And then, with equal force, came the absurdity of it to +McKay. A woman! He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and +tried to laugh. A WOMAN--out in that storm--a thousand miles from +nowhere! It was inconceivable. + +The laugh which he forced from his lips was husky and unreal, and there +was a smothering grip of something at his heart. In the ghostly light +of the alcohol lamp his eyes were wide open and staring. + +He looked at Peter. The dog stood stiff-legged before the hole. His +body was trembling. + +"Peter!" + +With a responsive wag of his tail Peter turned his bristling face up to +his master. Many times Jolly Roger had seen that unfailing warning in +his comrade's eyes. THERE WAS SOME ONE OUTSIDE--or Peter's brain, like +his own, was twisted and fooled by the storm! + +Against his reasoning--in the face of the absurdity of it--Jolly Roger +was urged into action. He changed the snowshoe and replaced the alcohol +lamp so that the glow of light could be seen more clearly from the +Barren. Then he went to the hole and crawled through. Peter followed +him. + +As if infuriated by their audacity, the storm lashed itself over the +top of the dune. They could hear the hissing whine of fine hard snow +tearing above their heads like volleys of shot, and the force of the +wind reached them even in their shelter, bringing with it the flinty +sting of the snow-dust. Beyond them the black barren was filled with a +dismal moaning. Looking up, and yet seeing nothing in the darkness, +Peter understood where the weird shriekings and ghostly cries came +from. It was the wind whipping itself up the side and over the top of +the dune. + +Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that mighty +force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again one of those +brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a moment, and its +moaning grew less and less, until it was like the sound of giant +chariot wheels receding swiftly over the face of the earth. Then came +the silence--a few seconds of it--while in the north gathered swiftly +the whispering rumble of a still greater force. + +And in this silence came once more a cry--a cry which Jolly Roger McKay +could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the report of a +rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a woman's voice. As +nearly as he could judge it came from dead ahead, out of the chaos of +blackness, and in that direction he shouted an answer. Then he ran out +into the darkness, followed by Peter. Another avalanche of wind +gathered at their heels, driving them on like the crest of a flood. In +the first force of it Jolly Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and +in that moment he saw very faintly the glow of his light at the opening +in the snow dune. A realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of +the light flashed upon him. Again and again he called into the night. +After that, bowing his head in the fury of the storm, he plunged on +deeper into darkness. + +A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into +forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. In the +heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer doubted it. +And the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? Was it possible +she had followed him after his flight, determined to find him, and +share his fate? His heart pounded. Who else, of all the women in the +world, could be following his trail across the Barrens--a thousand +miles from civilization? He began to shout her name. +"Nada--Nada--Nada!" And hidden in the gloom at his side Peter barked. + +Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the alcohol +lamp died out. Jolly Roger did not look back. Blindly he stumbled +ahead, counting his footsteps as he went, and shouting Nada's name. +Twice he thought he heard a reply, and each time the will-o'-the-wisp +voice seemed to be still farther ahead of him. Then, with a fiercer +blast of the wind beating upon his back, he stumbled and fell forward +upon his face. His hand reached out and touched the thing that had +tripped him. It was not snow. His naked fingers clutched in something +soft and furry. It was a man's coat. He could feel buttons, a belt, and +the sudden thrill of a bearded face. + +He stood up. The wind was wailing off over the Barren again, leaving an +instant of stillness about him. And he shouted: + +"Nada--Nada--Nada!" + +An answer came so quickly that it startled him, not one voice, but +two--three--and one of them the shrill agonized cry of a woman. They +came toward him as he continued to shout, until a few feet away he +could make out a gray blur moving through the gloom. He went to it, +staggering under the weight of the man he had found in the snow. The +blur was made up of two men dragging a sledge, and behind the sledge +was a third figure, moaning in the darkness. + +"I found some one in the snow," Jolly Roger shouted. "Here he is--" + +He dropped his burden, and the last of his words were twisted by a +fresh blast of the storm. But the figure behind the sledge had heard, +and Jolly Roger saw her indistinctly at his feet, shielding the man he +had found with her arms and body, and crying out a name which he could +not understand in that howling of the wind. But a thing like cold steel +sank into his heart, and he knew it was not Nada he had found this +night on the Barren. He placed the unconscious man on the sledge, +believing he was dead. The girl was crying out something to him, +unintelligible in the storm, and one of the men shouted in a thick +throaty voice which he could not understand. Jolly Roger felt the +weight of him as he staggered in the wind, fighting to keep his feet, +and he knew he was ready to drop down in the snow and die. + +"It's only a step," he shouted. "Can you make it?" + +His words reached the ears of the others. The girl swayed through the +darkness and gripped his arm. The two men began to tug at the sledge, +and Jolly Roger seized the rope between them, wondering why there were +no dogs, and faced the driving of the storm. It seemed an interminable +time before he saw the faint glow of the alcohol lamp. The last fifty +feet was like struggling against an irresistible hail from +machine-guns. Then came the shelter of the dune. + +One at a time McKay helped to drag them through the hole which he used +for a door. For a space his vision was blurred, and he saw through the +hazy film of storm-blindness the gray faces and heavily coated forms of +those he had rescued. The man he had found in the snow he placed on his +blankets, and the girl fell down upon her knees beside him. It was then +Jolly Roger began to see more clearly. And in that same instant came a +shock as unexpected as the smash of dynamite under his feet. + +The girl had thrown back her parkee, and was sobbing over the man on +the blankets, and calling him father. She was not like Nada. Her hair +was in thick, dark coils, and she was older. She was not pretty--now. +Her face was twisted by the brutal beating of the storm, and her eyes +were nearly closed. But it was the man Jolly Roger stared at, while his +heart choked inside him. He was grizzled and gray-bearded, with +military mustaches and a bald head. He was not dead. His eyes were +open, and his blue lips were struggling to speak to the girl whose +blindness kept her from seeing that he was alive. And the coat which he +wore was the regulation service garment of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police! + +Slowly McKay turned, wiping the film of snow-sweat from his eyes, and +stared at the other two. One of them had sunk down with his back to the +snow wall. He was a much younger man, possibly not over thirty, and his +face was ghastly. The third lay where he had fallen from exhaustion +after crawling through the hole. Both wore service coats, with holsters +at their sides. + +The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise. He sagged +back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay. + +"Dam' fine of you, old man," he mumbled between blistered lips. "I'm +Porter--'N' Division--taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort +Churchill--Tavish and his daughter. Made a hell of a mess of it, +haven't I?" + +He struggled to his knees. + +"There's brandy in our kit. It might help--over there," and he nodded +toward the girl and the gray-bearded man on the blankets. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found the +sledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, and he +saw Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the alcohol lamp, +where he waited to help him with the dunnage. In those seconds he +fought to get a grip on himself. A quarter of an hour ago he had +laughed at the thought of the law. Never had it seemed to be so far +away from him, and never had he been more utterly isolated from the +world. His mind was still a bit dazed by the thing that had happened. +The police had not trailed him. They had not ferreted him out, nor had +they stumbled upon him by accident. It was he who had gone out into the +night and deliberately dragged them in! Of all the trickery fate had +played upon him this was the least to be expected. + +His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the babiche +cordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. "N" Division, he +told himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. He had never +heard of Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the +outfit was evidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very +likely that Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, +and especially of Jolly Roger McKay. This was his one chance. To +attempt an escape through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard. +It was death. + +There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through +the hole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a flask of +liquor to the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at +him with eyes that were widening as the snow-sting left them. Tavish +gulped, and his mittened hand closed on the girl's arm. + +"I'm all right, Jo," he mumbled. "All right--" + +His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug-out. +They were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. Jolly Roger +felt the intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl a swallow of the +brandy, and then passed the flask to Porter. + +"You have saved our lives," said Tavish, in a voice that was clearer. +"I don't just understand how it happened. I remember stumbling in the +darkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind the sledge. Porter and +Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my daughter, was sheltered +under the blankets. After that--" + +He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. He +pointed to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted there was +someone outside, and they had taken a chance by going in search of +them. He was John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm had caught him +fifty miles from his cabin. He was traveling without a dog-sledge, and +had only a pack-outfit. + +Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening to +him. One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the +wilderness man of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a strange +sort of way. And then, as if catching himself, he nodded, and began +rubbing his frosted face with handfuls of snow. + +Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of the +dunnage sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than the +other two. Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes turned +to Jolly Roger. They were large, fine eyes, wide open and clear now. +There was something of splendid strength about her as she smiled at +McKay. She was not of the hysterical sort. He could see that. + +"If we could have some hot soup," she suggested. "May we?" + +There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to express +in words. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind her, and +watched her as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed the cheeks of +the bearded man with snow. + +"There's an alcohol stove in the other pack," said Breault, with his +hard, narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. "By the way, +what did you say your name was?" + +"Cummings--John Cummings." + +Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger felt +stealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup and +ate bannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy fur garment +that enveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. Her eyes were +bright, and in her voice was a tremble of happiness at finding warmth +and life where she had expected death. Porter's friendliness was almost +brotherly. He explained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had +deserted them, stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams +and one of their sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a +drift into which they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth +as a table. They had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because +they expected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in +the storm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought, +that Superintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should +have given up the ghost so easily. + +Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with the +possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet +Jolly Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially +attentive. There was something repressive and mysterious about the man, +and the girl would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he +happened to speak, and the softness of her mouth would harden in an +instant. He understood the significance of her gladness, and of +Porter's, for twice he saw their hands come together, and their fingers +entwine. And in their eyes was something which they could not hide when +they looked at each other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know +that Breault was the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached +from Athabasca Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two +thousand-mile stretch of the Three River Country he was known as +Shingoos, the Ferret. + +The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's +shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and +breathed deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at +the pale face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay. + +"She's mine," he whispered. "We're going to be married." + +Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand. + +He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat. + +"I know how you feel," he said. "When I heard her calling out there--it +made me think--of a girl down south." + +"Down south?" queried Porter. "Why down south--if you care for her--and +you up here?" + +McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor +Porter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was +listening. + +Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the storm +had caught his attention. + +"We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm +going to dig out another room--for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll need +the convenience of a private room before we're able to move. It's an +easy job--and passes the time away." + +"I'll help," offered Porter. + +For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. During +that hour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile curled his +thin lips as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last Porter turned in, +and slept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished +his room, and was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door +out of the drift, when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which +Porter had used. + +"I'll take my turn," he said. "I'm a bit nervous, and not at all +sleepy, Cummings." He began digging into the snow. "Been long in this +country?" he asked. + +"Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a silver +and a black." + +Breault grunted. + +"You must have met Cassidy, then," he said casually, without looking at +McKay. "Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country." + +Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging. + +"Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I like +him. You know him?" + +"Entered the service together," said Breault. "But he's unlucky. For +two or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. Jolly +Roger, they call him--Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?" + +Jolly Roger nodded. + +"Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've +heard I--rather like him." + +"Who--Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?" + +"Both." + +For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. They +were mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining half +closed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKay +felt their penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him, +warning him of a menace deadlier than the storm. + +"Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?" + +"No." + +"You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The +man lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that +information, will you?" + +Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel. + +"Yes, I will." + +He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow slits +of Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox. + +"You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for sticking +up that free trader's post a few years ago." + +Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of snow. + +"I'll tell him that, too," he said, chuckling at the obviousness of the +other's trap. "What do you think my cabin is, Breault--a Rest for +Homeless Outlaws?" + +Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger caught it +over his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his load, Breault said: + +"You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the winter +somewhere up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south--" + +Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel. + +"--who would like to see him," finished Breault. + +When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting his +pipe. + +"I remember--Cassidy told me about this girl," said Jolly Roger. "He +said--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the girl. So if I +happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to the girl, it +will help out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is there any reward +tacked to it? Anything in it for me?" + +Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, +puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about his +thin lips. + +"Listen to the storm," he said. "I think it's getting worse--Cummings!" + +Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his bright +eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger. + +"Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--" + +Tight ringers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spoken +Peter's name since the rescue of Breault. + +"Peter--Peter--" + +The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made no +response to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and +challenging. In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his arms. + +The Ferret laughed. + +"He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, and +I also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, if you +ever happen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, with +whiskers on him like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny name for a +dog, isn't it?" + +He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head. + +"I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And--Mother of +Heaven!--listen to the wind." + +"Yes, it's a bad night," said McKay. + +He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was beating +fast. He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over the Barren more +fiercely than before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter into +his eyes. This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meant +death. And Breault knew it. He was in a trap--a trap built by himself. +That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had. +There was only one way out--and that meant fight. + +He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not look +at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. He +left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread +out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a +hole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for +ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust +of snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault. The +Ferret was sitting up, and leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an +arm's length away. He reached over, and touched him on the shoulder. + +Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears to +hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porter +was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly. +Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. Then +Breault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear only the +indistinct monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly the +change that came into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he stared +toward the inner room, making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and the +girl. + +The Ferret stopped him. + +"Don't get excited. Let them sleep." + +McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the two +men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultant +satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. Jolly +Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then he +lightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out in +the darkness until his hand found Peter. + +"They think they've got us, boy," he whispered, "They think they've got +us!" + +Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter was +wide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands and +knees to the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out the +steady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way around +the wall of his room until he came to a place where the snow was very +soft. + +"An air-drift," he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. "We'll +fool 'em, boy. And we'll fight--if we have to." + +He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air-drift +like a gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, heaving +his body up and down and sideways to pack the light snow, leaving a +round tunnel two feet in diameter behind him. Within an hour he had +come to the outer crust on the windward side of the big snow-dune. He +did not break through this crust, which was as tough as crystal-glass, +but lay quietly for a time and listened to the sweep of the wind +outside. It was warm, and very comfortable, and he had half-dozed off +before he caught himself back into wakefulness and returned to his +room. The mouth of his tunnel he packed with snow. After that he wound +the blanket about him and gave himself up calmly to sleep. + +Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly +Roger in what would have been the early dawn outside the snow-dune. +McKay felt his restless movement, and opened his eyes. A faint light +was illumining his room, and he sat up. In the outer room the alcohol +lamp was burning again. He could hear movement, and voices that were +very low and indistinct. Carefully he dug out once more the little hole +in the snow wall, and widened the slit. + +Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and close +beside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and fallen over +her shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her wide-open eyes as +they stared at the door between the two rooms. McKay could see her hand +clasping Porter's arm. Porter was talking, with his face so close to +her bent head that his lips touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger +could understand no word that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering +the exciting secret of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, +for a moment, a shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick, +sibilant whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a finger +at her lips, and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then his +fingers closed about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. McKay +watched the long kiss between them. The girl drew away quickly then, +and Porter tucked the blanket about her when she lay down beside her +father. After that he stretched out again beside Breault. + +Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a bit +nervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the alcohol +lamp. And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her of +the interesting discovery which Breault had made--and to kiss her. +McKay stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer +hear the storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent. + +Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The last +time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, Josephine +Tavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay watched her as +she rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. She bent over +Porter and Breault to make sure they were asleep, and then came +straight toward the door of his room. + +He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped +closely about Peter. + +"Be quiet, boy," he whispered. "Be quiet." + +He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl stood +there, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and before he +closed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward him. In a moment +she was bending over him. He could feel the soft caress of her loose +hair on his face and hands. Then she knelt quietly down beside him, +stroking Peter with her hand, and shook him lightly by the shoulder. + +"Jolly Roger!" she whispered. "Jolly Roger McKay!" + +He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom. + +"Yes," he replied softly. "What is it, Miss Tavish?" + +He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers tightened +at his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, until her hair +cluttered his throat and breast. + +"You are--awake?" + +"Yes." + +"Then--listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must get +away--somewhere. You must go before Breault awakens in the morning. I +think the storm is over--there is no wind--and if you are here when day +comes--" + +Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in the +darkness he found her hand. It clasped his own--firm, warm, thrilling. + +"I thank you for what you have done," she whispered. "But the law--and +Breault--they have no mercy!" + +She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the slit +in the wall until she was with her father again. + +In the gloom he drew Peter close to him. + +"We're up against it again, Pied-Bot," he confided under his breath. +"We've got to take another chance." + +He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was +ready, and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the outer +room then, where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger pantomimed his +desire as she sat up. He wanted something from one of the packs. She +nodded. On his knees he fumbled in the dunnage, and when he rose to his +feet, facing the girl, her eyes opened wide at what he held in his +hand--a small packet of old newspapers her father was taking to the +factor at Fort Churchill. She saw the hungry, apologetic look in his +eyes, and her woman's heart understood. She smiled gently at him, and +her lips formed an unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go. At +the door he looked back. He thought she was beautiful then, with her +shining hair and eyes, and her lips parted, and her hands half reaching +out to him, as if in that moment of parting she was giving him courage +and faith. Suddenly she pressed the palms of her fingers to her mouth +and sent the kiss of benediction to him through the twilight glow of +the snow-room. + +A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close behind +him, there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. Again he was +fleeing from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had predicted in her +sorcery, there were happiness and hope in his going. And always there +was someone to urge him on, and to take a pride in him, like Josephine +Tavish. + +He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and crawled +out into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The sky was heavy +overhead, and the wind had died out. It was the beginning of the brief +lull which came in the second day of the Great Storm. + +McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them. + +"We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied-Bot," +he said. "We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles south." + +He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling straight +away from the first hole he had cut through the shell of the drift. +From that door, made by the outlaw who had saved them, Josephine Tavish +watched the shadowy forms of man and dog until they were lost in the +gray-white chaos of a frozen world. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles +southward from the big dune on the Barren. For a day and a night he +made his camp in the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless tundras +reaching to the Arctic. He believed he was safe, for the unceasing wind +and the blasts of shot-like snow filled his tracks a few moments after +they were made. He struck a straight line for his cabin after that +first day and night in the scrub timber. The storm was still a thing of +terrific force out on the barren, but in the timber he was fairly well +sheltered. He was convinced the police patrol would find his cabin very +soon after the storm had worn itself out. Porter and Tavish did not +trouble him. But from Breault he knew there was no getting away. +Breault would nose out his cabin. And for that reason he was determined +to reach it first. + +The second night he did not sleep. His mind was a wild thing--wild as a +Loup-Garou seeking out its ghostly trails; it passed beyond his +mastery, keeping sleep away from him though he was dead tired. It +carried him back over all the steps of his outlawry, visioning for him +the score of times he had escaped, as he was narrowly escaping now; and +it pictured for him, like a creature of inquisition, the tightening net +ahead of him, the final futility of all his effort. And at last, as if +moved by pity to ease his suffering a little, it brought him back +vividly to the green valley, the flowers and the blue skies of Cragg's +Ridge--and Nada. + +It was like a dream. At times he could scarcely assure himself that he +had actually lived those weeks and months of happiness down on the edge +of civilization; it seemed impossible that Nada had come like an Angel +into his life down there, and that she had loved him, even when he +confessed himself a fugitive from the law and had entreated him to take +her with him. He closed his eyes and that last roaring night of storm +at Cragg's Ridge was about him again. He was in the little old +Missioner's cabin, with thunder and lightning rending earth and sky +outside and Nada was in his arms, her lips against his, the piteous +heartbreak of despair in her eyes. Then he saw her--a moment later--a +crumpled heap down beside the chair, the disheveled glory of her hair +hiding her white face from him as he hesitated for a single instant +before opening the door and plunging out into the night. + +With a cry he sprang up, dashing the vision from him, and threw fresh +fuel on the fire. And he cried out the same old thought to Peter. + +"It would have been murder for us to bring her, Pied-Bot. It would have +been murder!" + +He looked about him at the swirling chaos outside the rim of light made +by his fire and listened to the moaning of the wind over the treetops. +Beyond the circle of light the dry snow, which crunched like sand under +his feet, was lost in ghostly gloom. It was forty degrees below zero. +And he was glad, even with this sickness of despair in his heart, that +she was not a fugitive with him tonight. + +Yet he built up a little make-believe world for himself as he sat with +a blanket hugged close about him, staring into the fire. In a hundred +different ways he saw her face, a will-o-the-wisp thing amid the +flames; an illusive, very girlish, almost childish face--yet always +with the light of a woman's soul shining in it. That was the miracle +which startled him at last. It seemed as if the fiction he built up in +his despair transformed itself subtly into fact and that her soul had +come to him from out of the southland and was speaking to him with eyes +which never changed or faltered in their adoration, their faith and +their courage. She seemed to come to him, to creep into his arms under +the folds of the blanket and he sensed the soft crush of her hair, the +touch of her lips, the warm encircling of her arms about his neck. +Closer to him pressed the mystery, until the beating of her heart was a +living pulse against him; and then--suddenly, as an irresistible +impulse closed his arms to hold the spirit to him, his eyes were drawn +to the heart of the fire, and he saw there for an instant, wide-eyed +and speaking to him, the face of Yellow Bird the Indian sorceress. The +flames crept up the long braids of her hair, her lips moved, and then +she was gone--but slowly, like a ghost slipping upward into the mist of +smoke and night. + +Peter heard his master's cry. And after that Jolly Roger rose up and +threw off the blanket and walked back and forth until his feet trod a +path in the snow. He told himself it was madness to believe, and yet he +believed. Faith fought itself back into that dark citadel of his heart +from which for a time it had been driven. New courage lighted up again +the black chaos of his soul. And at last he fell down on his knees and +gripped Peter's shaggy head between his two hands. + +"Pied-Bot, she said everything would come out right in the end," he +cried, a new note in his voice. "That's what Yellow Bird told us, +wasn't it? Mebby they would have burned her as a witch a long time ago +because she's a sorceress, and says she can send her soul out of her +body and see what we can't see. BUT WE BELIEVE!" His voice choked up, +and he laughed. "They were both here tonight," he added. "Nada--and +Yellow Bird. And I believe--I believe--I know what it means!" + +He stood up again, and Peter saw the old smile on his master's lips as +Jolly Roger looked up into the swirling black canopy of the +spruce-tops. And the wailing of the storm seemed no longer to hold +menace and taunt, but in it he heard the whisper of fierce, strong +voices urging upon him the conviction that had already swept indecision +from his heart. + +And then he said, holding out his arms as if encompassing something +which he could not see. + +"Peter, we're going back to Nada!" + +Dawn was a scarcely perceptible thing when it came. Darkness seemed to +fade a little, that was all. Frosty shapes took form in the gloom, and +the spruce-tops became tangible in an abyss of sepulchral shadow +overhead. + +Through this beginning of the barren-land day Jolly Roger set out in +the direction of his cabin and in his blood was that new singing thing +of fire and warmth that more than made up for the hours of sleep he had +lost during the night. The storm was dying out, he thought, and it was +growing warmer; yet the wind whistled and raved in the open spaces and +his thermometer registered the fortieth and a fraction degree below +zero. The air he breathed was softer, he fancied, yet it was still +heavy with the stinging shot of blizzard; and where yesterday he had +seen only the smothering chaos of twisted spruce and piled up snow, +there was now--as the pale day broadened--his old wonderland of savage +beauty, awaiting only a flash of sunlight to transform it into the pure +glory of a thing indescribable. But the sun did not come and Jolly +Roger did not miss it over-much for his heart was full of Nada, and +a-thrill with the inspiration of his home-going. + +"That's what it means, GOING HOME" he said to Peter, who nosed close in +the path of his snowshoes. "There's a thousand miles between us and +Cragg's Ridge, a thousand miles of snow and ice--and hell, mebby. But +we'll make it!" + +He was sure of himself now. It was as if he had come up from out of the +shadow of a great sickness. He had been unwise. He had not reasoned as +a man should reason. The hangman might be waiting for him at Cragg's +Ridge, down on the rim of civilization, but that same grim executioner +was also pursuing close at his heels. He would always be pursuing in +the form of a Breault, a Cassidy, a Tavish, or a Somebody Else of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. It would be that way until the end +came. And when the end did come, when they finally got him, the blow +would be easier at Cragg's Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren +Land. + +And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that with +Nada he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the sorceress, had +promised for them--that mystery-place of safety and of happiness which +she had called The Country Beyond, where "all would end well." He had +not the faith of Yellow Bird's people; he was not superstitious enough +to believe fully in her sorcery, except that he seized upon it as a +drowning man might grip at a floating sea-weed. Yet was the +under-current of hope so persistent that at times it was near faith. Up +to this hour Yellow Bird's sorcery had brought him nothing but the +truth. For him she had conjured the spirits of her people, and these +spirits, speaking through Yellow Bird's lips, had saved him from +Cassidy at the fishing camp and had performed the miracle on the shore +of Wollaston and had predicted the salvation that had come to him out +on the Barren. And so--was it not conceivable that the other would also +come true? + +But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled through +the hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring himself +physically into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy of her in +his arms once more, the crush of her lips to his, the caress of her +hands in their old sweet way at his face--and to hear her voice, the +girl's voice with the woman's soul behind it, crying out its undying +love, as he had last heard it that night in the Missioner's cabin many +months ago. After this had happened, then--if fate decreed it so--all +other things might end. Breault, the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or +that Somebody Else who was always on his trail. If the game finished +thus, he would be satisfied. + +When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat +Jolly Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter. + +"The big thing we must do is to get there--safely," he said, already +beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then he went on, +building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while he crunched his +luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There was something joyous +and definite in his voice which entered into Peter's blood and body. +There was even a note of excitement in it, and Peter's whiskers +bristled with fresh courage and his eyes gleamed and his tail thumped +the snow comprehendingly. It was like having a master come back to him +from the dead. + +And Jolly Roger even laughed, softly, under his breath. + +"This is February," he said. "We ought to make it late in March. I mean +Cragg's Ridge, Pied-Bot." + +After that they went on, traveling hard to reach their cabin before the +darkness of night, which would drop upon them like a thick blanket at +four o'clock. In these last hours there pressed even more heavily upon +Jolly Roger that growing realization of the vastness and emptiness of +the world. It was as if blindness had dropped from his eyes and he saw +the naked truth at last. Out of this world everything had emptied +itself until it held only Nada. Only she counted. Only she held out her +arms to him, entreating him to keep for her that life in his body which +meant so little in all other ways. He thought of one of the little worn +books which he carried in his shoulder-pack--Jeanne D'Arc. As she had +fought, with the guidance of God, so he believed the blue-eyed girl +down at Cragg's Ridge was fighting for him, and had sent her spirit out +in quest of him. And he was going back to her. GOING! + +The last word, as it came from his lips, meant that nothing would stop +them. He almost shouted it. And Peter answered. + +In spite of their effort, darkness closed in on them. With the first +dusk of this night there came sudden lulls in which the blizzard seemed +to have exhausted itself. Jolly Roger read the signs. By tomorrow there +would be no storm and Breault the Ferret would be on the trail again, +along with Porter and Tavish. + +It was his old craft, his old cunning, that urged him to go on. +Strangely, he prayed for the blizzard not to give up the ghost. +Something must be accomplished before its fury was spent; and he was +glad when after each lull he heard again the moaning and screeching of +it over the open spaces, and the slashing together of spruce tops where +there was cover. In a chaos of gloom they came to the low ridge which +reached across an open sweep of tundra to the finger of shelter where +the cabin was built. An hour later they were at its door. Jolly Roger +opened it and staggered in. For a space he stood leaning against the +wall while his lungs drank in the warmer air. The intake of his breath +made a whistling sound and he was surprised to find himself so near +exhaustion. He heard the thud of Peter's body as it collapsed to the +floor. + +"Tired, Pied-Bot?" + +It was difficult for his storm-beaten lips to speak the words. + +Peter thumped his tail. The rat-tap-tap of it came in one of those +lulls of the storm which Jolly Roger had begun to dread. + +"I hope it keeps up another two hours," he said, wetting his lips to +take the stiffness out of them. "If it doesn't--" + +He was thinking of Breault as he drew off his mittens and fumbled for a +match. It was Breault he feared. The Ferret would find his cabin and +his trail if the storm died out too soon. + +He lighted the tin lamp on his table and after that, assured that +wastefulness would cost him nothing now, he set two bear-drip candles +going, one at each end of the cabin. The illumination filled the single +room. There was little for it to reveal--the table he had made, a +chair, a battered little sheet-iron stove, and the humped up blanket in +his bunk, under which he had stored the remainder of his possessions. +Back of the stove was a pile of dry wood, and in another five minutes +the roar of flames in the chimney mingled with a fresh bluster of the +wind outside. + +Defying the exhaustion of limbs and body, Jolly Roger kept steadily at +work. He threw off his heavier garments as the freezing atmosphere of +the room became warmer, and prepared for a feast. + +"We'll call it Christmas, and have everything we've got, Pied-Bot. +We'll cook a quart of prunes instead of six. No use stinting +ourselves--tonight!" + +Even Peter was amazed at the prodigality of his master. An hour later +they ate, and McKay drank a quart of hot coffee before he was done. +Half of his fatigue was gone and he sat back for a few minutes to +finish off with the luxury of his pipe. Peter, gorged with caribou +meat, stretched himself out to sleep. But his eyes did not close. His +master puzzled him. For after a little Jolly Roger put on his heavy +coat and parkee and pocketed his pipe. After that he slipped the straps +of his pack over head and shoulders and then, even more to Peter's +bewilderment, emptied a quart bottle of kerosene over the pile of dry +wood behind the hot stove. To this he touched a lighted match. His next +movement drew from Peter a startled yelp. With a single thrust of his +foot he sent the stove crashing into the middle of the floor. + +Half an hour later, when Peter and Jolly Roger looked back from the +crest of the ridge, a red pillar of flame lighted up the gloomy chaos +of the unpeopled world they were leaving behind them. The wind was +driving fiercely from the Barren and with it came stinging volleys of +the fine drift-snow. In the teeth of it Roger McKay stared back. + +"It's a good fire," he mumbled in his hood. "Half an hour and it will +be out. There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind keeps up +another two hours--nothing but drift-snow, with no sign of trail or +cabin." + +He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge. Straight south he +went, keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift +covered his snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made. Darkness did +not trouble him now. The open barren was ahead, miles of it, while only +a little to the westward was the shelter of timber. Twice he blundered +to the edge of this timber, but quickly set his course again in the +open, with the wind always quartering at his back. He could only guess +how long he kept on. The time came when he began to count the swing of +his snowshoes, measuring off half a mile, or a mile, and then beginning +over again until at last the achievement of five hundred steps seemed +to take an immeasurable length of time and great effort. Like the ache +of a tooth came the first warning of snowshoe cramp in his legs. In the +black night he grinned. He knew what it meant--a warning as deadly as +swimmer's cramp in deep water. If he continued much longer he would be +crawling on his hands and knees. + +Quickly he turned in the direction of the timber. He had traveled three +hours, he thought, since abandoning his cabin to the flames. Another +half hour, with the caution of slower, shorter steps, brought him to +the timber. Luck was with him and he cried aloud to Peter as he felt +himself in the darkness of a dense cover of spruce and balsam. He freed +himself from his entangled snowshoes and went on deeper into the +shelter. It became warmer and they could feel no longer a breath of the +wind. + +He unloaded his pack and drew from it a jackpine torch, dried in his +cabin and heavy with pitch. Shortly the flare of this torch lighted up +their refuge for a dozen paces about them. In the illumination of it, +moving it from place to place, he gathered dry fire wood and with his +axe cut down green spruce for the smouldering back-fire that would last +until morning. By the time the torch had consumed itself the fire was +burning, and where Jolly Roger had scraped away the snow from the thick +carpet of spruce needles underfoot he piled a thick mass of balsam +boughs, and in the center of the bed he buried himself, wrapped warmly +in his blankets, and with Peter snuggled close at his side. + +Through dark hours the green spruce fire burned slowly and steadily. +For a long time there was wailing of wind out in the open. But at last +it died away, and utter stillness filled the world. No life moved in +these hours which followed the giving up of the big storm's last +gasping breath. Slowly the sky cleared. Here and there a star burned +through. But Jolly Roger and Peter, deep in the sleep of exhaustion, +knew nothing of the change. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was Peter who roused Jolly Roger many hours later; Peter nosing +about the still burning embers of the fire, and at last muzzling his +master's face with increasing anxiety. McKay sat up out of his nest of +balsam boughs and blankets and caught the bright glint of sunlight +through the treetops. He rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure. +Then he looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock and peering in the +direction of the open he saw the white edge of it glistening in the +unclouded blaze of a sun. It was the first sun--the first real sun--he +had seen for many days, and with Peter he went to the rim of the barren +a hundred yards distant. He wanted to shout. As far as he could see the +white plain was ablaze with eye-blinding light, and never had the sky +at Cragg's Ridge been clearer than the sky that was over him now. + +He returned to the fire, singing. Back through the months leapt Peter's +memory to the time when his master had sung like that. It was in Indian +Tom's cabin, with Cragg's Ridge just beyond the creek, and it was in +those days before Terence Cassidy had come to drive them to another +hiding place; in the happy days of Nada's visits and of their trysts +under the Ridge, when even the little gray mother mouse lived in a +paradise with her nest of babies in the box on their cabin shelf. He +had almost forgotten but it came back to him now. It was the old Jolly +Roger--the old master come to life again. + +In the clear stillness of the morning one might have heard that +shouting song half a mile away. But McKay was no longer afraid. As the +storm seemed to have cleaned the world so the sun cleared his soul of +its last shadow of doubt. It was not merely an omen or a promise, but +for him proclaimed a certainty. God was with him. Life was with him. +His world was opening its arms to him again--and he sang as if Nada was +only a mile away from him instead of a thousand. + +When he went on, after their breakfast, he laughed at the thought of +Breault discovering their trail. The Ferret would be more than human to +do that after what wind and storm and fire had done for them. + +This first day of their pilgrimage into the southland was a day of +glory from its beginning until the setting of the sun. There was no +cloud in the sky. And it grew warmer, until Jolly Roger flung back the +hood of his parkee and turned up the fur of his cap. That night a +million stars lighted the heaven. + +After this first day and night nothing could break down the hope and +confidence of Jolly Roger and his, dog. Peter knew they were going +south, in which direction lay everything he had ever yearned for; and +each night beside their campfire McKay made a note with pencil and +paper and measured the distance they had come and the distance they had +yet to go. Hope in a little while became certainty. Into his mind urged +no thought of changes that might have taken place at Cragg's Ridge; or, +if the thought did come, it caused him no uneasiness. Now that Jed +Hawkins was dead Nada would be with the little old Missioner in whose +care he had left her, and not for an instant did a doubt cloud the +growing happiness of his anticipations. Breault and the hunters of the +law were the one worry that lay ahead and behind him. If he outwitted +them he would find Nada waiting for him. + +Day after day they kept south and west until they struck the Thelon; +and then through a country unmapped, and at times terrific in its cold +and storm, they fought steadily to the frozen regions of the Dubawnt +waterways. Only once in the first three weeks did they seek human +company. This was at a small Indian camp where Jolly Roger bartered for +caribou meat and moccasins for Peter's feet. Twice between there and +God's Lake they stopped at trappers' cabins. + +It was early in March when they struck the Lost Lake country, three +hundred miles from Cragg's Ridge. + +And here it was, buried under a blind of soft snow, that Peter nosed +out the frozen carcass of a disemboweled buck which Boileau, the French +trapper, had poisoned for wolves. Jolly Roger had built a fire and was +warming half a pint of deer tallow for a baking of bannock, when Peter +dragged himself in, his rear legs already stiffening with the palsy of +strychnine. In a dozen seconds McKay had the warm tallow down Peter's +throat, to the last drop of it; and this he followed with another dose +as quickly as he could heat it, and in the end Peter gave up what he +had eaten. + +Half an hour later Boileau, who was eating his dinner, jumped up in +wonderment when the door of his cabin was suddenly opened by a grim and +white-faced man who carried the limp body of a dog in his arms. + +For a long time after this the shadow of death hung over the +Frenchman's trapping-shack. To Boileau, with his brotherly sympathy and +regret that his poison-bait had brought calamity, Peter was "just dog." +But when at last he saw the strong shoulders of the grim-faced stranger +shaking over Peter's paralyzed body and listened to the sobbing grief +that broke in passionate protest from his white lips, he drew back a +little awed. It seemed for a time that Peter was dead; and in those +moments Jolly Roger put his arms about him and buried his despairing +face in Peter's scraggly neck, calling in a wild fit of anguish for him +to come back, to live, to open his eyes again. Boileau, crossing +himself, felt of Peter's body and McKay heard his voice over him, +saying that the dog was not dead, but that his heart was beating +steadily and that he thought the last stiffening blow of the poison was +over. To McKay it was like bringing the dead back to life. He raised +his head and drew away his arms and knelt beside the bunk stunned and +mutely hopeful while Boileau took his place and began dropping warm +condensed milk down Peter's throat. In a little while Peter's eyes +opened and he gave a great sigh. + +Boileau looked up and shrugged his shoulders. + +"That was a good breath, m'sieu," he said. "What is left of the poison +has done its worst. He will live." + +A bit stupidly McKay rose to his feet. He swayed a little, and for the +first time sensed the hot tears that had blinded his eyes and wet his +cheeks. And then there came a sobbing laugh out of his throat and he +went to the window of the Frenchman's shack and stared out into the +white world, seeing nothing. He had stood in the presence of death many +times before but never had that presence choked up his heart as in this +hour when the soul of Peter, his comrade, had stood falteringly for a +space half-way between the living and the dead. + +When he turned from the window Boileau was covering Peter's body with +blankets and a warm bear skin. And for many days thereafter Peter was +nursed through the slow sickness which followed. + +An early spring came this year in the northland. South of the Reindeer +waterway country the snows were disappearing late in March and ice was +rotting the first week in April. Winds came from the south and west and +the sun was warmer and clearer than Boileau had ever known it at the +winter's end in Lost Lake country. It was in this first week of April +that Peter was able to travel, and McKay pointed his trail once more +for Cragg's Ridge. + +He left a part of his winter dunnage at Boileau's shack and went on +light, figuring to reach Cragg's Ridge before the new "goose moon" had +worn itself out in the west. But for a week Peter lagged and until the +darker red in the rims of his eyes cleared away Jolly Roger checked the +impetus of his travel so that the goose moon had faded out and the +"frog moon" of May was in its full before they came down the last slope +that dipped from the Height of Land to the forests and lakes of the +lower country. + +And now, in these days, it seemed to Jolly Roger that a great kindness, +and not tragedy, had delayed him so that his "home coming" was in the +gladness of spring. All about him was the sweetness and mystic +whispering of new life just awakening. It was in the sky and the sun; +it was underfoot, in the fragrance of the mold he trod upon, in the +trees about him, and in the mate-chirping of the birds flocking back +from the southland. His friends the jays were raucous and jaunty again, +bullying and bluffing in the warmth of sunshine; the black glint of +crows' wings flashed across the opens; the wood-sappers and pewees and +big-eyed moose-birds were aflutter with the excitement of home +planning; partridges were feasting on the swelling poplar buds--and +then, one glorious sunset, he heard the chirruping evening song of his +first robin. + +And the next day they would reach Cragg's Ridge! + +Half of that last night he sat up, awake, or smoked in the glow of his +fire, waiting for the dawn. With the first lifting of darkness he was +traveling swiftly ahead of Peter and the morning was only half gone +when he saw far ahead of him the great ridge which shut out Indian +Tom's swamp, and Nada's plain, and Cragg's Ridge beyond it. + +It was noon when he stood at the crest of this. He was breathing hard, +for to reach this last precious height from which he might look upon +the country of Nada's home he had half run up its rock-strewn side. +There, with his lungs gasping for air, his eager eyes shot over the +country below him and for a moment the significance of the thing which +he saw did not strike him. And then in another instant it seemed that +his heart choked up, like a fist suddenly tightened, and stopped its +beating. + +Reaching away from him, miles upon miles of it, east, west and +south--was a dead and char-stricken world. + +Up to the foot of the ridge itself had come the devastation of flame, +and where it had swept, months ago, there was now no sign of the +glorious spring that lay behind him. + +He looked for Indian Tom's swamp, and where it had been there was no +longer a swamp but a stricken chaos of ten thousand black stubs, the +shriven corpses of the spruce and cedar and jackpines out of which the +wolves had howled at night. + +He looked for the timber on Sucker Creek where the little old +Missioner's cabin lay, and where he had dreamed that Nada would be +waiting for him. And he saw no timber there but only the littleness and +emptiness of a blackened world. + +And then he looked to Cragg's Ridge, and along the bald crest of it, +naked as death, he saw blackened stubs pointing skyward, painting +desolation against the blue of the heaven beyond. + +A cry came from him, a cry of fear and of horror, for he was looking +upon the fulfilment of Yellow Bird's prediction. He seemed to hear, +whispering softly in his ears, the low, sweet voice of the sorceress, +as on the night when she had told him that if he returned to Cragg's +Ridge he would find a world that had turned black with ruin and that it +would not be there he would ever find Nada. + +After that one sobbing cry he tore like a madman dawn into the valley, +traveling swiftly through the muck of fire and under-foot tangle with +Peter fighting behind him. Half an hour later he stood where the +Missioner's cabin had been and he found only a ruin of ash and logs +burned down to the earth. Where the trail had run there was no longer a +trail. A blight, grim and sickening, lay upon the earth that had been +paradise. + +Peter heard the choking sound in his master's throat and chest. He, +too, sensed the black shadow of tragedy and cautiously he sniffed the +air, knowing that at last they were home--and yet it was not home. +Instinctively he had faced Cragg's Ridge and Jolly Roger, seeing the +dog's stiffened body pointing toward the break beyond which lay Nada's +old home, felt a thrill of hope leap up within him. Possibly the +farther plain had escaped the scourge of fire. If so, Nada would be +there, and the Missioner-- + +He started for the break, a mile away. As he came nearer to it his hope +grew less for he could see where the flames had swept in an inundating +sea along Cragg's Ridge. They passed over the meadow where the thick +young jackpines, the red strawberries and the blue violets had been and +Peter heard the strange sob when they came to the little hollow--the +old trysting place where Nada had first given herself into his master's +arms. And there it was that Peter forgot master and caution and sped +swiftly ahead to the break that cut the Ridge in twain. + +When Jolly Roger came to that break and ran through it he was +staggering from the mad effort he had made. And then, all at once, the +last of his wind came in a cry of gladness. He swayed against a rock +and stood there staring wild-eyed at what was before him. The world was +as black ahead of him as it was behind. But Jed Hawkins' cabin was +untouched! The fire had crept up to its very door and there it had died. + +He went on the remaining hundred yards and before the closed door of +Nada's old home he found Peter standing stiff-legged and strange. He +opened the door and a damp chill touched his face. The cabin was empty. +And the gloom and desolation of a grave filled the place. + +He stepped in, a moaning whisper of the truth coming to his lips. He +heard the scurrying flight of a starved wood-rat, a flutter of loose +papers, and then the silence of death fell about him. The door of +Nada's little room was open and he entered through it. The bed was +naked and there remained only the skeleton of things that had been. + +He moved now like a man numbed by a strange sickness and Peter followed +gloomily and silently in the footsteps of his master. They went outside +and a distance away Jolly Roger saw a thing rising up out of the char +of fire, ugly and foreboding, like the evil spirit of desolation +itself. It was a rude cross made of saplings, up which the flames had +licked their way, searing it grim and black. + +His hands clenched slowly for he knew that under the cross lay the body +of Jed Hawkins, the fiend who had destroyed his world. + +After that he re-entered the cabin and went into Nada's room, closing +the door behind him; and for many minutes thereafter Peter remained +outside guarding the outer door, and hearing no sound or movement from +within. + +When Jolly Roger came out his face was set and white, and he looked +where the thick forest had stood on that stormy night when he ran down +the trail toward Mooney's cabin. There was no forest now. But he found +the old tie-cutters' road, cluttered as it was with the debris of fire, +and he knew when he came to that twist in the trail where long ago Jed +Hawkins had lain dead on his back. Half a mile beyond he came to the +railroad. Here it was that the fire had burned hottest, for as far as +his vision went he could see no sign of life or of forest green alight +in the waning sun. + +And now there fell upon him, along with the desolation of despair, a +something grimmer and more terrible--a thing that was fear. About him +everywhere reached this graveyard of death, leaving no spot untouched. +Was it possible that Nada and the Missioner had not escaped its fury? +The fear settled upon him more heavily as the sun went down and the +gloom of evening came, bringing with it an unpleasant chill and a +cloying odor of things burned dead. + +He did not talk to Peter now. There was a lamp in the cabin and wood +behind the stove, and silently he built a fire and trimmed and lighted +the wick when darkness came. And Peter, as if hiding from the ghosts of +yesterday, slunk into a corner and lay there unmoving and still. And +McKay did not get supper nor did he smoke, but after a long time he +carried his blankets into Nada's room, and spread them out upon her +bed. Then he put out the light and quietly laid himself down where +through the nights of many a month and year Nada had slept in the moon +glow. + +The moon was there tonight. The faint glow of it rose in the east and +swiftly it climbed over the ragged shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, flooding +the blackened world with light and filling the room with a soft and +golden radiance. It was a moon undimmed, full and round and yellow; and +it seemed to smile in through the window as if some living spirit in it +had not yet missed Nada, and was embracing her in its glory. And now it +came upon Jolly Roger why she had loved it even more than she had loved +the sun; for through the little window it shut out all the rest of the +world, and sitting up, he seemed to hear her heart beating at his side +and clearly he saw her face in the light of it and her slim arms +out-reaching, as if to gather it to her breast. Thus--many times, she +had told him--had she sat up in her bed to greet the moon and to look +for the smiling face that was almost always there, the face of the Man +in the Moon, her friend and playmate in the sky. + +For a space his heart leapt up; and then, as if discovery of the +usurper in her room had come, a cloud swept over the face of the moon +like a mighty hand and darkness crowded him in. But the cloud sailed on +and the light drove out the gloom again. Then it was that Jolly Roger +saw the Old Man in the Moon was up and awake tonight, for never had he +seen his face more clearly. Often had Nada pointed it out to him in her +adorable faith that the Old Man loved her, telling him how this feature +changed and that feature changed, how sometimes the Old Man looked sick +and at others well, and how there were times when he smiled and was +happy and other times when he was sad and stern and sat there in his +castle in the sky sunk in a mysterious grief which she could not +understand. + +"And always I can tell whether I'm going to be glad or sorry by the +look of the Man in the Moon," she had said to him. "He looks down and +tells me even when the clouds are thick and he can only peep through +now and then. And he knows a lot about you, Mister--Jolly +Roger--because I've told him everything." + +Very quietly Jolly Roger got up from the bed and very strange seemed +his manner to Peter as he walked through the outer room and into the +night beyond. There he stood making no sound or movement, like one of +the lifeless stubs left by fire; and Peter looked up, as his master was +looking, trying to make out what it was he saw in the sky. And nothing +was there--nothing that he had not seen many times before; a billion +stars, and the moon riding King among them all, and fleecy clouds as if +made of web, and stillness, a great stillness that was like sleep in +the lap of the world. + +For a little Jolly Roger was silent and then Peter heard him saying, + +"Yellow Bird was right--again. She said we'd find a black world down +here and we've found it. And we're going to find Nada where she told us +we'd find her, in that place she called The Country Beyond--the country +beyond the forests, beyond the tall trees and the big swamps, beyond +everything we've ever known of the wild and open spaces; the country +where God lives in churches on Sunday and where people would laugh at +some of our queer notions, Pied-Bot. It's there we'll find Nada, driven +out by the fire, and waiting for us now in the settlements." + +He spoke with a strange and quiet conviction, the haggard look dying +out of his face as he stared up into the splendor of the sky. + +And then he said. + +"We won't sleep tonight, Peter. We'll travel with the moon." + +Half an hour later, as the lonely figures of man and dog headed for the +first settlement a dozen miles away, there seemed to come for an +instant the flash of a satisfied smile in the face of the Man in the +sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +From the cabin McKay went first to the great rock that jutted from the +broken shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, and as they stood there Peter heard +the strange something that was like a laugh, and yet was not a laugh, +on his master's lips. But his scraggly face did not look up. There was +an answering whimper in his throat. He had been slow in sensing the +significance of the mysterious thing that had changed his old home +since months ago. During the hours of afternoon, and these moonlit +hours that followed, he tried to understand. He knew this was home. Yet +the green grass was gone, and a million trees had changed into +blackened stubs. The world was no longer shut in by deep forests. And +Cragg's Ridge was naked where he and Nada had romped in sunshine and +flowers, and out of it all rose the mucky death-smell of the +flame-swept earth. These things he understood, in his dog way. But what +he could not understand clearly was why Nada was not in the cabin, and +why they did not find her, even though the world was changed. + +He sat back on his haunches, and Jolly Roger heard again the whimpering +grief in his throat. It comforted the man to know that Peter +remembered, and he was not alone in his desolation. Gently he placed a +soot-grimed hand on his comrade's head. + +"Peter, it was from this rock--right where we're standing now--that I +first saw her, a long time ago," he said, a bit of forced cheer +breaking through the huskiness of his voice. "Remember the little +jackpine clump down there? You climbed up onto her lap, a little +know-nothing thing, and you pawed in her loose curls, and growled so +fiercely I could hear you. And when I made a noise, and she looked up, +I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen--just a kid, +with those eyes like the flowers, and her hair shining in the sun, an' +tear stains on her cheeks. Tear stains, Pied-Bot--because of that snake +who's dead over there. Remember how you growled at me, Peter?" + +Peter wriggled an answer. + +"That was the beginning," said Jolly Roger, "and this--looks like the +end. But--" + +He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the +grotesque movement of his shadow on the rock. + +"We're going to find her before that end comes," he added defiantly. +"We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us to the +settlements--right up into the face of the law." + +He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the +deadness of the world about them. Again he followed where once had been +the trail that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line of rail +that rambled for eighty miles into the wilderness from Fort William. +The P. D. & W. it was named--Port Arthur, Duluth & Western; but it had +never reached Duluth, and there were those who had nicknamed it +Poverty, Destruction & Want. Many times Jolly Roger had laughed at the +queer stories Nada told him about it; how a wrecking outfit was always +carried behind on the twice-a-week train, and how the crew picked +berries in season, and had their trapping lines, and once chased a bear +half way to Whitefish Lake while the train waited for hours. She called +it the "Cannon Ball," because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine +miles in twenty-four hours. But there was nothing of humor about it as +Jolly Roger and Peter came out upon it tonight. It stretched out both +ways from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from +where they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea. + +Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. And the +whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him, +urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked +for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward. + +But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties +one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and about them, +and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads, +the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For the silver and gold of +the moon and the black muck of the fire refused to mingle, and while +over their heads they could see the tiniest clouds and beyond to the +farthest stars, all was black emptiness when they looked about them +upon what once had been a living earth. Only the two lines of steel +caught the moon-glow and the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs +that rose up out of the earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against +the sky. + +To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not hear or +smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed watchfulness +against impending evil. Under many moons he had traveled with his +master in their never-ending flight from the law, and many other nights +with neither moon nor stars had they felt out their trails together. +But always, under him and over him on all sides of him, there had been +LIFE. And tonight there was no life, nor smell of life. There was no +chirp of night bird, or flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry +of loon. He listened in vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the +whisper of wind in treetops. And there was no smell--no musk of mink +that had crossed his path, no taste in the air of the strong scented +fox, no subtle breath of partridge and rabbit and fleshy porcupine. And +even from the far distances there came no sound, no howl of wolf, no +castanet clatter of stout moose horns against bending saplings--not +even the howl of a trapper's dog. + +The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as if +some fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's feet. To +McKay, sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came understanding +that brought with it an uneasiness which changed swiftly into the chill +of a growing fear. The utter lifelessness told him how vast the +destruction of the fire had been. Its obliteration was so great no life +had adventured back into the desolated country, though the +conflagration must have passed in the preceding autumn, many months +ago. The burned country was a grave and the nearest edge of it, judged +from the sepulchral stillness of the night, was many miles away. + +For the first time came the horror of the thought that in such a fire +as this people must have died. It had swept upon them like a tidal +wave, galloping the forests with the speed of a race horse, with only +this thin line of rail leading to the freedom of life outside. In +places only a miracle could have made escape possible. And here, where +Nada had lived, with the pitch-wood forests crowding close, the fire +must have burned most fiercely. In this moment, when fear of the +unspeakable set his heart trembling, his faith fastened itself grimly +to the little old gray Missioner, Father John, in whose cabin Nada had +taken refuge many months ago, when Jed Hawkins lay dead in the trail +with his one-eyed face turned up to the thunder and lightning in the +sky. Father John, on that stormy night when he fled north, had promised +to care for Nada, and in silence he breathed a prayer that the +Missioner had saved her from the red death that had swept like an +avalanche upon them. He told himself it must be so. He cried out the +words aloud, and Peter heard him, and followed closer, so that his head +touched his master's leg as he walked. + +But the fear was there. From a spark it grew into a red-hot spot in +Jolly Roger's heart. Twice in his own life he had raced against death +in a forest fire. But never had he seen a fire like this must have +been. All at once he seemed to hear the roar of it in his ears, the +rolling thunder of the earth as it twisted in the cataclysm of flame, +the hissing shriek of the flaming pitch-tops as they leapt in lightning +fires against the smoke-smothered sky. A few hours ago he had stood +where Father John's Cabin had been and the place was a ruin of char and +ash. If the fire had hemmed them in and they had not escaped-- + +His voice cried out in sudden protest. + +"It can't be, Peter. It can't be! They made the rail--or the lake--and +we'll find them in the settlements. It couldn't happen. God wouldn't +let her die like that!" + +He stopped, and stared into the moon-broken gloom on his left. +Something was there, fifty feet away, that drew him down through the +muck which lay knee deep in the right-of-way ditch. It was what was +left of the cutter's cabin, a clutter of burned logs, a wind scattered +heap of ash. Even there, within arm's reach of the railroad, there had +been no salvation from the fire. + +He waded again through the muck of the ditch, and went on. Mentally and +physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving to achieve +possession of his brain. Over and over he repeated his faith that Nada +and the Missioner had escaped and he would find them in the +settlements. Less than ever he thought of the law in these hours. What +happened to himself was of small importance now, if he could find Nada +alive before the menace caught up with him from behind, or ambushed him +ahead. Yet the necessity of caution impinged itself upon him even in +the recklessness of his determination to find her if he had to walk +into the arms of the law that was hunting him. + +For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed to +turn its face to look at them; and behind them, when they looked back, +the world was transformed into a black pit, while ahead--with the glow +of it streaming over their shoulders--ghostly shapes took form, and +vision reached farther. Twice they caught the silvery gleam of lakes +through the tree-stubs, and again they walked with the rippling murmur +of a stream that kept for a mile within the sound of their ears. But +even here, with water crying out its invitation to life, there was no +life. + +Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster as he +strained his eyes to see ahead. Somewhere near, within a mile or two, +was the first settlement with its sawmill and its bunkhouses, its one +store and its few cabins, with flat mountains of sawdust on one side of +it, and the evergreen forest creeping up to its doors on the other. +Surely they would find life here, where there had been man power to +hold fire back from the clearing. And it was here he might find Nada +and the Missioner, for more than once Father John had preached to the +red-cheeked women and children and the clear-eyed men of the Finnish +community that thrived there. + +But as they drew nearer he listened in vain for the bark of a dog, and +his eyes quested as futilely for a point of light in the wide canopy of +gloom. At last, close together, they rounded a curve in the road, and +crossed a small bridge with a creek running below, and McKay knew his +arm should be able to send a stone to what he was seeking ahead. And +then, a minute later, he drew in a great gasping breath of unbelief and +horror. + +For the settlement was no longer in the clearing between him and the +rim-glow of the moon. No living tree raised its head against the sky, +no sign of cabin or mill shadowed the earth, and where the store had +been, and the little church with its white-painted cross, was only a +chaos of empty gloom. + +He went down, as he had gone to the tie cutter's cabin, and for many +minutes he stared and listened, while Peter seemed to stand without +breathing. Then making a wide megaphone of his hands, he shouted. It +was an alarming thing to do and Peter started as if struck. For there +were only ghosts to answer back and the hollowness of a shriven pit for +the cry to travel in. Nothing was there. Even the great sawdust piles +had shrunk into black scars under the scourge of the fire. + +A groaning agony was in the breath of Jolly Roger's lips as he went +back to the railroad and hurried on Death must have come here, death +sudden and swift. And if it had fallen upon the Finnish settlement, +with its strong women and its stronger men, what might it not have done +in the cabin of the little old gray Missioner--and Nada? + +For a long time after that he forgot Peter was with him. He forgot +everything but his desire to reach a living thing. At times, where the +road-bed was smooth, he almost ran, and at others he paused for a +little to gather his breath and listen. And it was Peter, in one of +these intervals, who caught the first message of life. From a long +distance away came faintly the barking of a dog. + +Half a mile farther on they came to a clearing where no stubs of trees +stood up like question marks against the sky, and in this clearing was +a cabin, a dark blotch that was without light or sound. But from behind +it the dog barked again, and Jolly Roger made quickly toward it. Here +there was no ash under his feet, and he knew that at last he had found +an oasis of life in the desolation. Loudly he knocked with his fist at +the cabin door and soon there was a response inside, the heavy movement +of a man's body getting out of bed, and after that the questioning +voice of a woman. He knocked again and the flare of a lighted match +illumined the window. Then came the drawing of a bar at the door and a +man stood there in his night attire, a man with a heavy face and +bristling beard, and a lamp in his hand. + +"I beg your pardon for waking you," said Jolly Roger, "but I am just +down from the north, hoping to find my friends back here and I have +seen nothing but destruction and death. You are the first living soul I +have found to ask about them." + +"Where were they?" grunted the man. + +"At Cragg's Ridge." + +"Then God help them," came the woman's voice from back in the room. + +"Cragg's Ridge," said the man, "was a burning hell in the middle of the +night." + +Jolly Roger's fingers dug into the wood at the edge of the door. + +"You mean--" + +"A lot of 'em died," said the man stolidly, as if eager to rid himself +of the one who had broken his sleep. "If it was Mooney, he's dead. An' +if it was Robson, or Jake the Swede, or the Adams family--they're dead, +too." + +"But it wasn't," said Jolly Roger, his heart choking between fear and +hope. "It was Father John, the Missioner, and Nada Hawkins, who lived +with him--or with her foster-mother in the Hawkins' cabin." + +The man shook his head, and turned down the wick of his lamp. + +"I dunno about the girl, or the old witch who was her mother," he said, +"but the Missioner made it out safe, and went to the settlements." + +"And no girl was with him?" + +"No, there was no girl," came the woman's voice again, and Peter jerked +up his ears at the creaking of a bed. "Father John stopped here the +second day after the fire had passed, and he said he was gathering up +the bones of the dead. Nada Hawkins wasn't with him, and he didn't say +who had died and who hadn't. But I think--" + +She stopped as the bearded man turned toward her. + +"You think what?" demanded Jolly Roger, stepping half into the room. + +"I think," said the woman, "that she died along with the others. +Anyway, Jed Hawkins' witch-woman was burned trying to make for the +lake, and little of her was left." + +The man with the lamp made a movement as if to close the door. + +"That's all we know," he growled. + +"For God's sake--don't!" entreated Jolly Roger, barring the door with +his arm. "Surely there were some who escaped from Cragg's Ridge and +beyond!" + +"Mebby a half, mebby less," said the man. "I tell you it burned like +hell, and the worst of it came in the middle of the night with a wind +behind it that blew a hurricane. We've twenty acres cleared here, with +the cabin in the center of it, an' it singed my beard and burned her +hair and scorched our hands, and my pigs died out there from the heat +of it. Mebby it's a place to sleep in for the night you want, stranger?" + +"No, I'm going on," said Jolly Roger, the blood in his veins running +with the chill of water. "How far before I come to the end of fire?" + +"Ten miles on. It started this side of the next settlement." + +Jolly Roger drew back and the door closed, and standing on the railroad +once more he saw the light go out and after that the occasional barking +of the settler's dog grew fainter and fainter behind them. + +He felt a great weariness in his bones and body now. With hope struck +down the exhaustion of two nights and a day without sleep seized upon +him and his feet plodded more and more slowly over the uneven ties of +the road. Even in his weariness he fought madly against the thought +that Nada was dead and he repeated the word "impossible--impossible" so +often that it ran in sing-song through his brain. And he could not keep +away from him the white, thin face of the Missioner, who had promised +on his faith In God to care for Nada, and who had passed the settler's +cabin ALONE. + +Another two hours they went on and then came the first of the green +timber. Under the shelter of some balsams Jolly Roger found a resting +place and there they waited for the break of dawn. Peter stretched out +and slept. But Jolly Roger sat with his head and shoulders against the +bole of a tree, and not until the light of the moon was driven away by +the darkness that preceded dawn by an hour or two did his eyes close in +restless slumber. He was roused by the wakening twitter of birds and in +the cold water of a creek that ran near he bathed his face and hands. +Peter wondered why there was no fire and no breakfast this morning. + +The settlement was only a little way ahead and it was very early when +they reached it. People were still in their beds and out of only one +chimney was smoke rising into the clear calm of the breaking day. From +this cabin a young man came, and stood for a moment after he had closed +the door, yawning and stretching his arms and looking up to see what +sort of promise the sky held for the day. After that he went to a +stable of logs, and Jolly Roger followed him there. + +He was unlike the bearded settler, and nodded with a youthful smile of +cheer. + +"Good morning," he said. "You're traveling early, and--" + +He looked more keenly as his eyes took in Jolly Roger's boots and +clothes, and the gray pallor in his face. + +"Just get in?" he asked kindly. "And--from the burnt country?" + +"Yes, from the burnt country. I've been away a long time, and I'm +trying to find out if my friends are among the living or the dead. Did +you ever hear of Father John, the Missioner at Cragg's Ridge?" + +The young man's face brightened. + +"I knew him," he said. "He helped me to bury my brother, three years +ago. And if it's him you seek, he is safe. He went up to Fort William a +week after the fire, and that was in September, eight months past." + +"And was there with him a girl named Nada Hawkins?" asked Jolly Roger, +trying hard to speak calmly as he looked into the other's face. + +The youth shook his head. + +"No, he was alone. He slept in my cabin overnight, and he said nothing +of a girl named Nada Hawkins." + +"Did he speak of others?" + +"He was very tired, and I think he was half dead with grief at what had +happened. He spoke no names that I remember." + +Then he saw the gray look in Jolly Roger's face grow deeper, and saw +the despair which could not hide itself in his eyes. + +"But there were a number of girls who passed here, alone or with their +friends," he said hopefully. "What sort of looking girl was Nada +Hawkins?" + +"A--kid. That's what I called her," said Jolly Roger, in a dead, cold +voice. "Eighteen, and beautiful, with blue eyes, and brown hair that +she couldn't keep from blowing in curls about her face. So like an +angel you wouldn't forget her if you'd seen her--just once." + +Gently the youth placed a hand on Jolly Roger's arm. + +"She didn't come this way," he said, "but maybe you'll find her +somewhere else. Won't you have breakfast with me? I've a stranger in +the cabin, still sleeping, who's going into the fire country from which +you've come. He's hunting for some one, and maybe you can give him +information. He's going to Cragg's Ridge." + +"Cragg's Ridge!" exclaimed Jolly Roger. "What is his name?" + +"Breault," said the youth. "Sergeant Breault, of the Royal Northwest +Mounted Police." + +Jolly Roger turned to stroke the neck of a horse waiting for its +morning feed. But he felt nothing of the touch of flesh under his hand. +Cold as iron went his heart, and for half a minute he made no answer. +Then he said: + +"Thanks, friend. I breakfasted before it was light and I'm hitting out +into the brush west and north, for the Rainy River country. Please +don't tell this man Breault that you saw me, for he'll think badly of +me for not waiting to give him information he might want. But--you +understand--if you loved the brother who died--that it's hard for me to +talk with anyone just now." + +The young man's fingers touched his arm again. + +"I understand," he said, "and I hope to God you'll find her." + +Silently they shook hands, and Jolly Roger hurried away from the cabin +with the rising spiral of smoke. + +Three days later a man and a dog came from the burned country into the +town of Fort William, seeking for a wandering messenger of God who +called himself Father John, and a young and beautiful girl whose name +was Nada Hawkins. He stopped first at the old mission, in whose shadow +the Indians and traders of a century before had bartered their wares, +and Father Augustine, the aged patriarch who talked with him, murmured +as he went that he was a strange man, and a sick one, with a little +madness lurking in his eyes. + +And it was, in fact, a madness of despair eating out the life in Jolly +Roger's heart. For he no longer had hope Nada had escaped the fire, +even though at no place had he found a conclusive evidence of her +death. But that signified little, for there were many of the missing +who had not been found between the last of September and these days of +May. What he did find, with deadly regularity, was the fact that Father +John had escaped--and that he had traveled to safety ALONE. + +And Father Augustine told him that when Father John stopped to rest for +a few days at the Mission he was heading north, for somewhere on +Pashkokogon Lake near the river Albany. + +There was little rest for Peter and his master at Fort William town. +That Breault must be close on their trail, and following it with the +merciless determination of the ferret from which he had been named, +there was no shadow of doubt in the mind of Jolly Roger McKay. So after +outfitting his pack at a little corner shop, where Breault would be +slow to enquire about him, he struck north through the bush toward Dog +Lake and the river of the same name. Five or six days, he thought, +would bring him to Father John and the truth which he dreaded more and +more to hear. + +The despondency of his master had sunk, in some mysterious way, into +the soul of Peter. Without the understanding of language he sensed the +oppressive gloom of tragedy behind and about him and there was a +wolfish slinking in the manner of his travel now, and his confidence +was going as he caught the disease of despair of the man who traveled +with him. But constantly and vigilantly his eyes and scent were +questing about them, suspicious of the very winds that whispered in the +treetops. And at night after they had built their little cooking fire +in the deepest heart of the bush he would lie half awake during the +hours of darkness, the watchfulness of his senses never completely +dulled in the stupor of sleep. + +Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly Roger's +face had grown grayer and thinner. A number of times he had tried to +assure himself what he would do in that moment which was coming when he +would stand face to face with Breault the man-hunter. His caution, +after he left Fort William, was in a way an automatic instinct that +worked for self-preservation in face of the fact that he was growing +less and less concerned regarding Breault's appearance. It was not in +his desire to delay the end much longer. The chase had been a long one, +with its thrills and its happiness at times, but now he was growing +tired and with Nada gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead. If she +were dead he wanted to go to her. That thought was a dawning pleasure +in his breast, and it was warm in his heart when he tied in a hard knot +the buckskin string which locked the flap of his pistol holster. When +Breault overtook him the law would know, because of the significance of +this knot, that he had welcomed the end of the game. + +Never in the northland had there come a spring more beautiful than this +of the year in which McKay and his dog went through the deep wilds to +Pashkokogon Lake. In a few hours, it seemed, the last chill died out of +the air and there came the soft whispers of those bridal-weeks between +May and Summer, a month ahead of their time. But Jolly Roger, for the +first time in his life, failed to respond to the wonder and beauty of +the earth's rejoicing. The first flowers did not fill him with the old +joy. He no longer stood up straight, with expanding chest, to drink in +the rare sweetness of air weighted with the tonic of balsams and cedar +spruce. Vainly he tried to lift up his soul with the song and bustle of +mating things. There was no longer music for him in the flood-time +rushing of spring waters. An utter loneliness filled the cry of the +loon. And all about him was a vast emptiness from which the spirit of +life had fled for him. + +Thus he came at last to a stream in the Burntwood country which ran +into Pashkokogon Lake; and it was this day, in the mellow sunlight of +late afternoon, that they heard coming to them from out of the dense +forest the chopping of an axe. + +Toward this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until in a +little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It was a +newly built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney. + +But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of +evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their way and +came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the axe. It was +then that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, for the man was +Father John the Missioner. + +In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little gray man +seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly Roger had fled to +the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as if only half believing, +a look of joy shining in his face as he realized the truth of what had +happened. "McKay," he cried, reaching out his hands. "McKay, my boy!" + +A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the change +in Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its mark upon it. + +They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and answering +with the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner said: + +"You have heard? Someone has told you?" + +"No," said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. "No one has told +me," and he was thinking of Nada, and her death. + +Father John's fingers tightened. + +"It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about," he spoke in +a low voice. "Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him. + +"No, you didn't kill him," repeated Father John. "On that same night of +the storm when you thought you left him dead in the trail, he stumbled +back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance came soon. + +"A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell from a +ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him buried in sight +of the cabin door--" + +But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the Ferret +and the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck than he was +of another thing. And Father John was saying in a voice that seemed far +away and unreal: + +"We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone would +find you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, and each +hour of the day the same prayer has been in her heart and on her lips. +And now--" + +Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin--someone, a +girl, and she was singing, + +McKay's face went whiter than the gray ash of fire. + +"My God," he whispered huskily. "I thought--she had died!" + +It was only then Father John understood the meaning of what he had seen +in his face. + +"No, she is alive," he cried. "I sent her straight north through the +bush with an Indian the day after the fire. And later I left word for +you with the Fire Relief Committee at Fort William, where I thought you +would first enquire." + +"And it was there," said Jolly Roger, "that I did not enquire at all!" + +In the edge of the clearing, close to the thicket of timber, Nada had +stopped. For across the open space a strange looking creature had raced +at the sound of her voice; a dog with bristling Airedale whiskers, and +a hound's legs, and wild-wolf's body hardened and roughened by months +of fighting in the wilderness. As in the days of his puppyhood, Peter +leapt up against her, and a cry burst from Nada's lips, a wild and +sobbing cry of PETER, PETER, PETER--and it was this cry Jolly Roger +heard as he tore away from Father John. + +On her knees, with her arms about Peter's shaggy head, Nada stared +wildly at the clump of timber, and in a moment she saw a man break out +of it, and stand still, as if the mellow sunlight blinded him, and made +him unable to move. And the same choking weakness was at her own heart +as she rose up from Peter, and reached out her arms toward the gray +figure in the edge of the wood, sobbing, trying to speak and yet saying +no word. + +And a little slower, because of his age, Father John came a moment +later, and peered out with the knowledge of long years from a thicket +of young banksians, and when he saw the two in the open, close in each +other's arms, and Peter hopping madly about them, he drew out a +handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and went back then for the axe which +he had dropped in the timber clump. + +There was a great drumming in Jolly Roger's head, and for a time he +failed even to hear Peter yelping at their side, for all the world was +drowned in those moments by the breaking sobs in Nada's breath and the +wild thrill of her body in his arms; and he saw nothing but the +upturned face, crushed close against his breast, and the wide-open +eyes, and the lips to kiss. And even Nada's face he seemed to see +through a silvery mist, and he felt her arms strangely about his neck, +as if it was all half like a dream--a dream of the kind that had come +to him beside his campfire. It was a little cry from Nada that drove +the unreality away. + +"Roger--you're--breaking me," she cried, gasping for her breath in his +arms, yet without giving up the clasp of her own arms about his neck in +the least; and at that he sensed the brutality of his strength, and +held her off a little, looking into her face. + +Pride and happiness and the courage in his heart would have slunk away +could he have seen himself then, as Father John saw him, coming from +the edge of the bush, and as Nada saw him, held there at the end of his +arms. Since the day he had come with Peter to Cragg's Ridge the blade +of a razor had not touched his face, and his beard was like a brush, +and with it his hair unkempt and straggling; and his eyes were red from +sleeplessness and the haunting of that grim despair which had dogged +his footsteps. + +But these things Nada did not see. Or, if she did, there must have been +something beautiful about them for her. For it was not a little girl, +but a woman who was standing there before Jolly Roger now--Nada grown +older, very much older it seemed to McKay, and taller, with her hair no +longer rioting free about her, but gathered up in a wonderful way on +the crown of her head. This change McKay discovered as she stood there, +and it swept upon him all in a moment, and with it the prick of +something swift and terrorizing inside him. She was not the little girl +of Cragg's Ridge. She was a WOMAN. In a year had come this miracle of +change, and it frightened him, for such a creature as this that stood +before him now Jed Hawkins would never have dared to curse or beat, and +he--Roger McKay--was afraid to gather her back into his arms again. + +And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her +shoulders, he saw that which had not changed--the wonder-light in her +eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other day in +Indian Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and squeaked on +the pantry shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay with his broken +leg in the going down of the sun. And as he hesitated it was Nada +herself who came into his arms, and laid her head on his breast, and +trembled and laughed and cried there, while Father John came up and +patted her shoulder, and smiled happily at McKay, and then went on to +the cabin in the clearing. For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed +his face in Nada's hair, and neither said a word, but there was a +strange throbbing of their hearts together, and after a little Nada +reached up a hand to his cheek, and stroked it tenderly, bristly beard +and all. + +"I'll never let you run away from me again--Mister--Jolly Roger," she +said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who whispered the +words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also something very +definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious thrill of it as he +raised his face from her hair, and saw once more the sun-filled world +about him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in the +cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical +happening, but more the mysterious FEEL of something impending and very +near. The day following their arrival in the Pashkokogon country his +master seemed to have forgotten him entirely. It was Nada who noticed +him, but even she was different; and Father John went about, overseeing +two Indians whom he kept very busy, his pale, thin face luminous with +an anticipation which roused Peter's curiosity, and kept him watchful. +He was puzzled, too, by the odd actions of the humans about him. The +second morning Nada remained in her room, and Jolly Roger wandered off +into the woods without his breakfast, and Father John ate alone, +smiling gently as he looked at the tightly closed door of Nada's +bedroom. Even Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the sleek-haired Indian woman who +cared for the house, was nervously expectant as she watched for Nada, +and Mistoos, her husband, grunted and grimaced as he carried in from +the edge of the forest many loads of soft evergreens on his shoulders. + +Into the forest Jolly Roger went alone, puffing furiously at his pipe. +He was all a-tremble and his blood seemed to quiver and dance as it ran +through his veins. Since the first rose-flush of dawn he had been +awake, fighting against this upsetting of every nerve that was in him. + +He felt pitiably weak and helpless. But it was the weakness and +helplessness of a happiness too vast for him to measure. It was Nada in +her ragged shoes and dress, with the haunting torture of Jed Hawkins' +brutality in her eyes and face, that he had expected to find, if he +found her at all; someone to fight for, and kill for if necessary, +someone his muscle and brawn would always protect against evil. He had +not dreamed that in these many months with Father John she would change +from "a little kid goin' on eighteen" into--A WOMAN. + +He tried to recall just what he had said to her last night--that he was +still an outlaw, and would always be, no matter how well he lived from +this day on; and that she, now that she had Father John's protection, +was very foolish to care for him, or keep her troth with him, and would +be happier if she could forget what had happened at Cragg's Ridge. + +"You're a WOMAN now," he said. "A WOMAN--" he had emphasized that--"and +you don't need me any more." + +And she had looked at him, without speaking, as if reading what was +inside him; and then, with a sudden little laugh, she swiftly pulled +her hair down about her shoulders, and repeated the very words she had +said to him a long time ago--"Without you--I'd want to +die--Mister--Jolly Roger," and with that she turned and ran into the +cabin, her hair flying riotously, and he had not seen her again since +that moment. + +Since then his heart had behaved like a thing with the fever, and it +was beating swiftly now as he looked at his watch and noted the quick +passing of time. + +Back in the cabin Peter was sniffing at the crack under Nada's door, +and listening to her movement. For a long time he had heard her, but +not once had she opened the door. And he wondered, after that, why +Oosimisk and her husband and Father John piled evergreens all about, +until the cabin looked like the little jackpine trysting-place down at +Cragg's Ridge, even to the soft carpet of grass on the floor, and +flowers scattered all about. + +Hopeless of understanding what it meant, he went outside, and waited in +the warm May-day sun until his master came back through the clearing. +What happened after that puzzled him greatly. When he followed Jolly +Roger into the cabin Mistoos and the Leaf Bud were seated in chairs, +their hands folded, and Father John stood behind a small table on which +lay an open book, and he was looking at his watch when they came in. He +nodded, and smiled, and very clearly Peter saw his master gulp, as if +swallowing something that was in his throat. And the ruddiness had gone +completely out of his smooth-shaven cheeks. It was the first time Peter +had seen his master so clearly afraid, and from his burrow in the +evergreens he growled under his breath, eyeing the open door with +sudden thought of an enemy. + +And then Father John was tapping at Nada's door. + +He went back to the table and waited, and as the knob of the door +turned very slowly Jolly Roger swallowed again, and took a step toward +it. It opened, and Nada stood there. And Jolly Roger gave a little cry, +so low that Peter could just hear it, as he held out his hands to her. + +For Nada was no longer the Nada who had come to him in Father John's +clearing. She was the Nada of Cragg's Ridge, the Nada of that wild +night of storm when he had fled into the north. Her hair fell about +her, as in the old days when Peter and she had played together among +the rocks and flowers, and her wedding dress was faded and torn, for it +was the dress she had worn that night of despair when she sent her +message to Peter's master, and on her little feet were shoes broken and +disfigured by her flight in those last hours of her mighty effort to go +with the man she loved. In Father John's eyes, as she stood there, was +a great astonishment; but in Jolly Roger's there came such a joy that, +in answer to it, Nada went straight into his arms and held up her lips +to be kissed. + +Her cheeks were very pink when she stood beside McKay, with Father John +before them, the open book in his hands; and then, as her long lashes +drooped over her eyes, and her breath came a little more quickly, she +saw Peter staring at her questioningly, and made a little motion to him +with her hand. He went to her, and her fingers touched his head as +Father John began speaking. Peter looked up, and listened, and was very +quiet in these moments. Jolly Roger was staring straight at the +balsam-decked wall opposite him, but there was something mighty strong +and proud in the way he held his head, and the fear had gone completely +out of his eyes. And Nada stood very close to him, so that her brown +head lightly touched his shoulder and he could see the silken shimmer +of loose tresses which with sweet intent she had let fall over his arm. +And her little fingers clung tightly to his thumb, as on that blessed +night when they had walked together across the plain below Cragg's +Ridge, with the moon lighting their way. + +Peter, in his dog way, fell a-wondering as he stood there, but kept his +manners and remained still. When it was all over he felt a desire to +show his teeth and growl, for when Father John had kissed Nada, and was +shaking Jolly Roger's hand, he saw his mistress crying in that strange, +silent way he had so often seen her crying in his puppyhood days. Only +now her blue eyes were wide open as she looked at Jolly Roger, and her +cheeks were flushed to the pink of wild rose petals, and her lips were +trembling a little, and there was a tiny something pulsing in her soft +white throat. And all at once there came a smile with the tears, and +Jolly Roger--turning from Father John to find her thus--gathered her +close in his arms, and Peter wagged his tail and went out into the +sun-filled day, where he heard a red squirrel challenging him from a +stub in the edge of the clearing. + +A little later he saw Nada and his master come out of the cabin, and +walk hand in hand across the open into the sweet-smelling timber where +Father John had been chopping with his axe. + +On a fresh-cut log Nada sat down, and McKay sat beside her, still +holding her hand. Not once had he spoken in crossing the open, and it +seemed as though little devils were holding his lips closed now. + +With her eyes looking down at the greening earth under their feet, Nada +said, very softly, + +"Mister--Jolly Roger--are you glad?" + +"Yes," he said. + +"Glad that I am--your wife?" + +The word drew a great, sobbing breath from him, and looking up suddenly +she saw that he was staring over the balsam-tops into the wonderful +blue of the sky. + +"Your WIFE," she whispered, touching his shoulder gently with her lips. + +"Yes, I'm glad," he said. "So glad that I'm--afraid." + +"Then--if you are glad--please kiss me again." + +He stood up, and drew her to him, and held her face between his hands +as he kissed her red lips; and after that he kissed her shining hair +again and again, and when he let her go her eyes were a glory of +happiness. + +"And you will never run away from me again?" she demanded, holding him +at arm's length. "Never?" + +"Never!" + +"Then--I want nothing more in this life," she said, nestling against +him again. "Only you, for ever and ever." + +Jolly Roger made no answer, but held her a long time in his arms, with +the soft beating of her heart against him, and listened to the twitter +and song of nesting and mating things about them. In this silence she +lay content, until Peter--growing restless--started quietly into the +golden depths of the forest. + +It was Pied-Bot's going, cautious and soft-footed, as if danger and +menace might lurk just ahead of him, that brought another look into +McKay's eyes as Nada's hand crept to his cheek, and rested there. + +"You love me--very much?" + +"More than life," he answered, and as he spoke he was watching Peter, +questing the soft wind that came whispering from the south. + +Her finger touched his lips, gentle and sweet. + +"And wherever you go, I go--forever and always?" she questioned. + +"Yes, forever and always"--and his eyes were looking through miles upon +miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and pitiless face +of a man who was following his trail, Breault the Ferret. + +His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face against +him. + +"And I pray God you will never be sorry," he said, still looking +through the miles of forest. + +"No, no--sorry I shall never be," she cried softly. "Not if we fly, and +go hungry, and fight--and die. Never shall I be sorry--with you," and +he felt the tightening of her arms. + +And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety +smoothness of her hair, she told him what Father John had already told +him--of her wild effort to overtake him in that night of storm when he +had fled from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's Ridge; and in turn he +told her how Peter came to him in the break of the morning with the +treasure which had saved him heart and soul, and how he had given that +treasure into the keeping of Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston. + +And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time +sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only Yellow +Bird and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she learned how +it was that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in childhood days, and how +he came to be an outlaw for her in later manhood. Her eyes were shining +when he had finished, and her red lips were a-tremble with the +quickness of her breathing. + +"Some day--you'll take me there," she whispered. "Oh, I'm so proud of +you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day--we'll +go!" + +He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had grown +in his heart. + +"Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me +alive--" + +And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found with +Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston. + +And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon when +they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her room. + +In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had been +preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear again. + +And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of her, +for very completely she had transformed herself into a woman again, +from the softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her head to the +coquettish little slippers that set off her dainty feet. And he saw the +white gleam of soft shoulders and tender arms where once had been rags +and bruises, and held there by the slim beauty and exquisite daintiness +of her he stared like a fool, until suddenly she laughed joyously at +his amaze, and ran to him with wide-open arms, and kissed him so +soundly that Peter cocked up his ears a bit startled. And then she +kissed Father John, and after that was mistress at the table, radiant +in her triumph and her eyes starry with happiness. + +And she was no longer shy in speaking his name, but called him Roger +boldly and many times, and twice during that meal of marvelous +forgetfulness--though long lashes covered her eyes when she spoke +it--she called him 'my husband.' + +In truth she was a woman and for the most part Roger McKay--fighting +man and very strong though he was--looked at her in dumb worship, +speaking little, his heart a-throb, and his brain reeling in the marvel +of what at last had come into his possession. + +And yet, even in this hour of supreme happiness that held him half +mute, there was always lurking in the back of his brain a thought of +Breault, the Ferret. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the star dusk of evening the time came when he spoke his fears to +Father John. + +Nada had gone into her room, taking Peter with her, and out under the +cool of the skies Father John's pale face was turned up to the unending +glory of the firmament, and his lips were whispering a prayer of +gratitude and blessing, when Roger laid a hand gently on his arm. + +"Father," he said, "it is a wonderful night." + +"A night of gladness and omen," replied Father John. "See the stars! +They seem to be alive and rejoicing, and it is not sacrilege to believe +they are, giving you their benediction." + +"And yet--I am afraid." + +"Afraid?" + +Father John looked into his eyes, and saw him staring off over the +forest-tops. + +"Yes--afraid for her." + +Briefly he told him of what had happened on the Barren months ago, and +how he had narrowly escaped Breault in coming away from the burned +country. + +"He is on my trail," he said, "and tonight he is not very far away." + +The Missioner's hand rested in a comforting way on his arm. + +"You did not kill Jed Hawkins, my son, and for that we have thanked God +each day and night of our lives--Nada and I. And each evening she has +prayed for you, kneeling at my side, and through every hour of the day +I know she was praying for you in her heart--and I believe in the +answer to prayer such as that, Roger. Her faith, now, is as deep as the +sea. And you, too, must have faith." + +"She is more precious to me than life--a thousand lives, if I had +them," whispered Jolly Roger. "If anything should happen--now--" + +"Yes, if the thing you fear should happen, what then?" cried Father +John, faith ringing like a note of inspiration in his low voice. "What, +then, Roger? You did not kill Jed Hawkins. If the law compels you to +pay a price for the errors it believes you have committed, will that +price be so terribly severe?" + +"Prison, Father. Probably five years." + +Father John laughed softly, the star-glow revealing a radiance in his +face. + +"Five years!" he repeated. "Oh, my boy, my dear boy, what are five +years to pay for such a treasure as that which has come into your +possession tonight? Five short years--only five. And she waiting for +you, proud of you for those very achievements which sent you to prison, +planning for all the future that lies beyond those five short years, +growing sweeter and more beautiful for you as she waits--Roger, is that +a very great sacrifice? Is it too great a price to pay? Five years, and +after that--peace, love, happiness for all time? Is it, Roger?" + +McKay felt his voice tremble as he tried to answer. + +"But she, father--" + +"Yes, yes, I know what you would say," interrupted Father John gently. +"I argued with her, just as you would have argued, Roger. I appealed to +her reason. I told her that if you returned it would mean prison for +you, and strangely I said that same thing--five years. But I found her +selfish, Roger, very selfish--and set upon her desire beyond all +reason. And it was she who asked first those very questions I have +asked you tonight. 'What are five years?' she demanded of me, defying +my logic. 'What are five years--or ten--or twenty, IF I KNOW I AM TO +HAVE HIM AFTER THAT?' Yes, she was selfish, Roger. Just that great is +her love for you." + +"Dear God in Heaven," breathed Jolly Roger, and stopped, his eyes +staring wide at the stars. + +"And after that, after I had given in to her selfishness, Roger, she +planned how we--she and I--would live very near to the place where they +imprisoned you, and how each day some sight or sign should pass between +you, and the baby--" + +"The baby, Father?" + +"Thus it seems she dreams, Roger. She, in the wilfulness of her desire +and selfishness--" + +With a choking cry Roger bowed his face in his hands. + +For a moment Father John was silent. And then he said, so very low that +it was almost a whisper, + +"I have passed many years in the wilderness, Roger, many years trying +to look into the hearts of people--and of God. And this--this love of +Nada's--is the greatest of all the miracles I have witnessed in a life +that is now reaching to its three score and five. Do you see the wonder +of it, son? And does it make you happy, and fearless now?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned slowly and went in the +direction of the cabin, leaving Roger alone under the thickening stars. +And McKay's face was like Father John's, filled with a strange and +wonderful radiance when he looked up. But with that light of happiness +was also the fiercer underglow of a great determination. For Nada--for +THE BABY--the worst should not happen; he breathed the thought aloud, +and in the words was a prayer that God might help him, and make +unnecessary the sacrifice from which Father John had taken the sting of +fear. And yet, if that sacrifice came, he saw clearly now that it would +not be a great tragedy but only a brief shadow cast over the undying +happiness in his soul. For they--NADA AND THE BABY--would be +waiting--waiting-- + +Suddenly he was conscious of a sound very near, and he beheld Nada, +taller and slimmer and more beautiful than ever, it seemed to him, in +the starlight. + +"I have told him," Father John had whispered to her only a moment +before. "I have told him, so that he will not fear prison--either for +himself or for you." + +And she had come to him quietly, all of the pretty triumph and +playfulness gone, so that she stood like an angel in the soft glow of +the skies, much older than he had ever seen her before, and smiled at +him with a new and wonderful tenderness as she held out her hands to +him. + +Not until she lay in his arms, looking up at him from under her long +lashes, did he dare to speak. And then, + +"Is it true--what Father John has told me?" he asked. + +"It is true," she whispered, and the silken lashes covered her eyes. + +Her hand crept up to his face in the silence that followed, and rested +there; and with no desire to hear more than the three words she had +spoken he crushed his lips in the sweet coils of her hair, and +together, in that peace ands understanding, they listened to the gentle +whisperings of the night. + +"Roger," she whispered at last. + +"Yes, my NEWA--" + +"What does that mean, Roger?" + +"It means--beloved--wife" + +"Then I like it. But I shall like the others--one of the others--best." + +"My--WIFE." + +"That--that makes me happiest, Roger. Your WIFE. Oh, it is the sweetest +word in the world, that--and--" + +He felt her warm face hide itself softly against his neck. + +"Mother," he added. + +"Yes--Mother," she repeated after him in an awed little voice. "Oh, I +have dreamed of Mothers since I have been old enough to dream, Roger! +My Mother--I never had one that I can remember, except in a dream. It +must be wonderful to--to--have a Mother, Roger." + +"And yet, I think, not quite so wonderful as to BE a Mother, my Nada." + +"Listen!" she whispered. + +"It is the Leaf Bud singing." + +"A love song?" + +"Yes, in Cree." + +She raised her head, so that her eyes were wide open, and looking at +him. + +"Since we came up here all this wonderful world has been promising song +for me, Roger. And since you came back to me it has been +singing--singing--singing--every hour of night and day. Have you ever +dreamed of leaving it, Roger--of going down into that world of towns +and cities of which Father John has told me so much?" + +"Would you like to go there, Nada?" + +"Only to look upon it, and come away. I want to live in the forests, +where I found you. Always and always, Roger." + +She raised herself on tip-toe, and kissed him. + +"I want to live near Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud--please--Mister Jolly +Roger--I do. And Father John will go with us. And we'll be so happy +there all together, Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud and Giselle and I--oh!" + +His arms had tightened so suddenly that the little cry came from her. + +"And yet--I may have to leave you for a little time, Nada. But it will +not be for long. What are five years, when all life reaches out a +paradise before us? They are nothing--nothing--and will pass swiftly--" + +"Yes, they will pass swiftly," she said, so gently that scarce did he +hear. + +But on his breast she gave a little sob which would not choke itself +back, a sob which bravely she smiled through a moment later, and which +he--knowing that it was best--made as if he had not heard. + +And so, this night, while Father John and Peter waited and watched in +the cabin, did they plan their future in the company of the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The Sabbath was a day of glory and peace in the Burntwood country. The +sun rose warm and golden, the birds were singing, and never had the air +seemed sweeter to Father John when he came out quietly from the cabin +and breathed it in the early break of dawn. Best of all he loved this +very beginning of day, before darkness was quite gone, when the world +seemed to be awakening mid sleepy whisperings and sounds came clearly +from a long distance. + +This morning he heard the barking of a dog, a mile away it must have +been, and Peter, who followed close beside him, pricked up his ears at +the sound of it. Father John had noted Peter's vigilance, the cautious +expectancy with which he was always sniffing the air, and the keen +alertness of his eyes and ears. McKay had explained the reason for it. +And this morning, as they made their way down to the pool at the +creekside, Peter's ceaseless watching for danger held a deeper +significance for Father John. All through the night, in spite of his +faith and his words of consolation, he was thinking of the menace which +was following McKay, and which eventually must catch up with him. + +And yet, how short a time was five years! Looking backward, each five +years of his life seemed but a yesterday. It was eight times five years +ago that a sweet-faced girl had first filled his life, as Nada filled +Jolly Roger's now, and through the thirty years since he had lost her +he could still hear her voice as clearly as though he had held her in +his arms only a few hours ago, so swift had been the passing of time. +But looking ahead, and not backward, five years seemed an eternity of +time, and the dread of it was in Father John's heart as he stood at the +side of the pool, with the first pink glow of sunrise coming to him +over the forest-tops. + +Five years, and he was an old man now. A long and dreary wait it would +be for him. But for youth, the glorious youth of Roger and Nada, it +would seem very short when in later years they looked back upon it. And +for a time as he contemplated the long span of life that lay behind +him, and the briefness of that which lay ahead, a yearning selfishness +possessed the soul of Father John, an almost savage desire to hold +those five years away from the violation of the law--not alone for +Nada's sake and Roger McKay's--but for his own. In this twilight of a +tragic life a great happiness had come to him in the love of these two, +and thought of its menace, its desecration by a pitiless and mistaken +justice, roused in him something that was more like the soul of a +fighting man than the spirit of a missioner of God. + +Vainly he tried to stamp out the evil of this resentment, for evil he +believed it to be. And shame possessed him when he saw the sweet glory +in Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness that was in Roger +McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, and the hidden fear +which he could not vanquish. + +And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, being +Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and he preached +to them in the little mission house which they had helped him to build +of logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in Cree, and partly in +English, and his message was one of hope and inspiration, pointing out +the silver linings that always lay beyond the darkness of clouds. To +McKay, holding Nada's hand in his own as they listened, Father John's +words brought a great and comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and +voice as she led in Cree the song, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," he heard +and saw the living fire of that faith, and had Breault come in through +the open doorway then he would have accepted him calmly as the +beginning of that sacrifice which he had made up his mind to make. + +In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John +heard again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of +questions about her, and for the first time the Missioner learned of +the inspiration which the Indian woman's sorcery had been to Jolly +Roger. + +"It was foolish," McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and faith +which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. "But--it helped me." + +"It wasn't foolish," replied Nada quickly. "Yellow Bird DID come to me. +And--SHE KNEW." + +"No true faith is folly," said Father John, in his soft, low voice. +"The great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was inspired by a +great confidence, and confidence and faith give to the mind a power +which it is utterly incapable of possessing without them. I believe in +the mind, children. I believe that in some day to come it will reach +those heights where it will unlock the mystery of life itself to us. I +have seen many strange things in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, +and not the least of these have been the achievements of the primitive +mind. And it seems to me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that +has come true. And has it occurred to you--" + +He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear in +his heart was driving him to say these things. + +"What, father," questioned Nada, bending toward him. + +"I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost childish +curiosity, and you will laugh at me, my dear. I am wondering if it has +occurred to Roger the mysterious 'Country Beyond' of which Yellow Bird +dreamed might be the great country down there--south--BEYOND THE +BORDER--the United States?" + +Something which he could not control seemed to drive the words from his +lips, and in an instant he saw that Nada had seized upon their +significance. Her eyes widened. The blue in them grew darker, and Roger +observed her fingers grip suddenly in the softness of her dress as she +turned from Father John to look at him. + +"Or--it might be China, or Africa, or the South Seas," he tried to +laugh, remembering his old visions. "It might be--anywhere." + +Nada's lips trembled, as if she were about to speak; and then very +quietly she sat, with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and Father +John knew she was not expressing the thought in her heart when she said, + +"Someday I want to tell Yellow Bird how much I love her." + +Now in these hours since he and his master had come to the Burntwood it +seemed to Peter that he had lost something very great, for in his +happiness McKay had taken but scant notice of him, and Nada seemed to +have found a greater joy than that which a long time ago she had found +in his comradeship. So now, as she saw him lying in his loneliness a +short distance away, Nada suddenly ran to him, and together they went +into the thick screen of the balsams, Peter yipping joyously, and Nada +without so much as turning her head in the direction of Roger and +Father John. But even in that bird-like swiftness with which she had +left them, Father John had caught the look in her eyes. + +"I have made a mistake," he confessed humbly. "I have sinned, because +in her I have roused the temptation to urge you to fly away with +her--down there--south. She is a woman, and being a woman she has +infinite faith in Yellow Bird, for Yellow Bird helped to give you to +her. She believes--" + +"And I--I--also believe," said McKay, staring at the green balsams. + +"And yet--it is better for you to remain. God means that judgment and +happiness should come in their turn." + +Jolly Roger rose to his feet, facing the south. + +"It is a temptation, father. It would be hard to give her up--now. If +Breault would only wait a little while. But if he comes--NOW--" + +He walked away slowly, following through the balsams where Nada and +Peter had gone. Father John watched him go, and a trembling smile came +to his lips when he was alone. In his heart he knew he was a coward, +and that these young people had been stronger than he. For in their +happiness and the faith which he had falsely built up in them they had +resigned themselves to the inevitable, while he, in these moments of +cowardice, had shown them the way to temptation. And yet as he stood +there, looking in the direction they had gone, he felt no remorse +because of what he had done, and a weight seemed to have lifted itself +from his shoulders. + +For a time the more selfish instincts of the man rose in him, fighting +down the sacrificial humility of the great faith of which he was a +messenger. The new sensation thrilled him, and in its thrill he felt +his heart beating a little faster, and hope rising in him. Five years +were a long time--FOR HIM. That was the thought which kept repeating +itself over and over in his brain, and with it came that other thought, +that self-preservation was the first law of existence, and therefore +could not be a sin. Thus did Father John turn traitor to his spoken +words, though his calm and smiling face gave no betrayal of it when +Nada and Roger returned to the cabin an hour later, their arms filled +with red bakneesh vines and early wildflowers. + +Nada's cheeks were as pink as the bakneesh, and her eyes as blue as the +rock-violets she wore on her breast. + +And Father John knew that Jolly Roger was no longer oppressed by the +fear of a menace which he was helpless to oppose, for there was +something very confident in the look of his eyes and the manner in +which they rested upon Nada. + +Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early +evening. He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada again, +hugging his shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him in the old, +excited way. And strange memory of a bundle came back to Peter, for +very quietly, as if unseen ears might be listening to her, Nada +gathered many things in a pile on the table, and made another bundle. +This bundle she thrust under her bed, just as a long time ago she had +thrust a similar bundle under a banksian clump in the meadowland below +Cragg's Ridge. + +Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of Breault. +The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, and Breault +would surely go there before questing from cabin to cabin for his +victim. + +So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making a +sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, saying he +had business at the post that day, and without wakening them had made +an early start. This note Nada read to McKay when they sat at breakfast. + +"Quite frequently he has gone like that," Nada explained. "He loves the +forests at night--in the light of the moon." + +"But last night there was no moon," said Roger. + +"Yes--" + +"And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it was +very dark." + +"You heard him go?" + +"Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he wrote +that note in the candle-glow." + +"Roger, what do you mean?" + +McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed her +shining hair and questioning eyes. + +"It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to the +post to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in his heart +he wants us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. For he is sure +that he knows what Yellow Bird meant by 'The Country Beyond.' It is the +great big world outside the forests, a world so big that if need be we +can put ourselves ten thousand miles away from the trails of the +mounted police. That is the thought which is urging him to the post to +look for Breault." + +Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with +eagerness she said, + +"Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night--and it is under +the bed." + +He held her more closely. + +"And you are willing to go with me--anywhere?" + +"Yes, anywhere." + +"To the end of the earth?" + +Her crumpled head nodded against his breast. + +"And leave Father John?" + +"Yes, for you. But I think--sometime--he will come to us." + +Her fingers touched his cheek. + +"And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part +of the world, Roger." + +"Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us," he +laughed happily. + +"I'd love the desert, Roger." + +"Or an uninhabited island?" + +Against him her head nodded again. + +"I'd love life anywhere--WITH YOU." + +"Then--we'll go," he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of the +joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, steadying +his voice until it was almost cold. "But it means giving up everything +you've dreamed of, Nada--these forests you love, Father John, Yellow +Bird, Sun Cloud--" + +"I have only one dream," she interrupted him softly. + +"And five years will pass very quickly," he continued. "Possibly it +will not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love will be +free to us forever. Gladly will I remain and take my punishment if in +the end it will make us happier, Nada." + +"I have only one dream," she repeated, caressing his cheek with her +hand, "and that is you, Roger. Where-ever you take me I shall be the +happiest woman in the world." + +"WOMAN," he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud. + +"Yes, I am a woman--now" + +"And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg's Ridge," he cried +with sudden passion, crushing her close to him. "I'd lose my life +sooner than I would lose her, Nada--the little girl with flying hair +and strawberry stain on her nose, and who believed so faithfully in the +Man in the Moon. Always I shall worship her as the little goddess who +came down to me from somewhere in heaven!" + +Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John's return, he +saw more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown the +glory of Nada's wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at the +miracle of it. There was something vastly sweet in the change of her. +She was no longer the utterly dependent little thing, possibly caring +for him because he was big and strong and able to protect her; she was +a woman, and loved him as a woman, and not because of fear or +helplessness. And then came the thrilling mystery of another thing. He +found himself, in turn, beginning to depend upon her, and in their +planning her calm decision and quiet reasoning strengthened him with +new confidence and made his heart sing with gladness. With his eyes on +the smooth and velvety coils of hair which she had twisted woman-like +on her head, he said, + +"With your hair like that you are my Margaret of Anjou, and the other +way--with it down you are my little Nada of Cragg's Ridge. And I--I +don't quite understand why God should be so good to me." + +And this day Peter was trying in his dumb way to analyze the change. +The touch of Nada's hand thrilled him, as it did a long time ago, and +still he sensed the difference. Her voice was even softer when she put +her cheek down to his whiskered face and talked to him, but in it he +missed that which he could not quite bring back clearly through the +lapse of time--the childish comradeship of her. Yet he began to worship +her anew, even more fiercely than he had loved the Nada of old. He was +content now to lie with his nose touching her foot or dress; but when +in the sunset of early evening she went into her room, and came out a +little later with her curling hair clouding her shoulders and breast, +and tied with a faded ribbon she had brought from Cragg's Ridge, he +danced about her, yelping joyously, and she accepted the challenge in a +wild race with him to the edge of the clearing. + +Panting and flushed she ran back to Jolly Roger, and rested in his arms. + +And it was McKay, with his face half hidden in her riotous hair, who +saw a figure come suddenly out of the forest at the far end of the +clearing. It was Father John. He saw him pause for an instant, and then +stagger toward them, swaying as if about to fall. + +The sudden stopping of his breath--the tightening of his arms--drew +Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the little old +Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the clearing. With a cry +she was out of McKay's arms and running toward him. + +Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His face +was tense and his breath came in choking gasps. But he tried to smile +as he clutched a hand at his breast. + +"I have hurried," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, "and +I am--winded--" + +He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger. + +"Roger--I have hurried to tell you--Breault is coming. He cannot be far +behind me. Possibly half a mile, or a mile--" + +In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his hands. + +"I find--at last--that I was mistaken, child," he said, very calmly +now. "I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be taken by +Breault. You must go. There is no time to lose. If Breault does not +stumble off the trail in this gloom he will be here in a few minutes. +Come." + +Not a word did Nada say as they went to the cabin, and McKay saw her +tense face as pale as an ivory cameo in the twilight. But something in +the up-tilt of her chin and the poise of her head assured him she was +prepared, and unafraid. + +In the cabin the Leaf Bud met them, and to her Nada spoke quickly. +There was understanding between them, and Oosimisk dragged in a filled +pack from the kitchen while Nada ran into her room and came out with +the bundle. + +Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast +throbbing with excitement. + +"There is nothing more to make ready," she said. "Yellow Bird has been +with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare. We have +everything we need." + +And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about his +neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face. + +"Father, you will come to us?" she whispered. "You promise that?" + +The Missioner's arms closed about her, and he bowed his face against +her lips and cheek. + +"I pray God that it may be so," he said. + +Nada's arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came a +warning growl from outside the cabin door. + +"Peter!" she cried. + +In another moment Father John had extinguished the light. + +"Go, my children," he commanded. "You must be quick. Twenty paces below +the pool is a canoe. I had one of my Indians leave it there yesterday, +and it is ready. Roger--Nada--" + +He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness. + +"God bless you--both! And go south--always south. Now go--go! I think I +hear footsteps--" + +He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with his +pack. Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he fastened +his fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back. + +"Good-bye," he whispered huskily. "Good-bye--Nada--Roger--" + +A sob came back out of the gloom. + +"Good-bye, father." + +And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift +footsteps of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing. + +Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him as he +closed the door. + +"It's best for you to stay, Peter," he tried to explain. "It's best for +you to stay--with me. For I think they are going a far distance, and +will come to a land where you would shrivel up and die. Besides, you +could not go in the canoe. So be good, and remain with me, Peter--with +me--" + +And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a strange +little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in darkness for +a light. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a match +and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John's waxen face grew out +of the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and scratched with, his paws +at the closed door. + +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark eyes +staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe. + +In the old Missioner's face came a trembling smile and a look of +triumph as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze. + +"All is well, Oosimisk," he said quietly, speaking in Cree. "They are +safely away, and will not be caught. Continue with your duties and let +no one see that anything unusual has happened. Breault will come very +soon." + +He straightened his shoulders, as if to give himself confidence and +strength, and then he called Peter, and comforted the dog whose master +and mistress were fleeing through the dark. + +"They have reached the pool," he said, seating himself and holding +Peter's shaggy head between his hands. "They have just about reached +the pool, and Breault must be entering the clearing on the other side. +Roger cannot miss the canoe--twenty paces down and with nothing to +shadow it overhead; I think he has found it by this time, and in +another half minute they will be off. And it is very black down the +Burntwood, with deep timber close to the water, and for many miles no +man can follow by night along its shores." Suddenly his hands +tightened, and the Leaf Bud, watching him slyly, saw the last of +suspense go out of his face. "And now--they are safe," he cried +exultantly. "They must be on their way--and Breault has not come across +the clearing!" + +He rose to his feet, and began pacing back and forth, while Peter +sniffed yearningly at the door again. Oosimisk, with the caution of her +race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, and +Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the +man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he +walked back and forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps. +Peter, with a sigh, gave up his scratching and settled himself on his +haunches close to Nada's door. + +Father John, in passing him, paused to lay a hand on his head. + +"Some day it may please God to let us go to them," he consoled, +speaking for himself even more than for Peter. "Some day, when they are +far away--and safe." + +He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf Bud +came a low, swift word of warning. + +She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean rattled +under her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing even as the +cabin door opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in it. + +The unexpectedness of his appearance, without the sound of a warning +footstep outside, was amazing even to Peter. In the open door he stood +for a moment, his thin, ferret-like face standing out against the black +background of the night, and his strange eyes, apparently half closed +yet bright as diamonds, sweeping the interior without effort but with +the quickness of lightning. + +There was something deadly and foreboding about him as he stood here, +and Peter growled low in his throat. Recognition flashed upon him in an +instant. It was the man of the snow-dune, away up on the Barren, the +man whom he had mistrusted from the beginning, and from whom they had +fled into the face of the Big Storm months ago. His mind worked +swiftly, even as swiftly as Breault's in its way, and without any +process of reasoning he sensed menace and enmity in this man's +appearance, and associated with it the mysterious flight of Jolly Roger +and Nada. + +Breault had nodded, without speaking. Then his eyes rested on Peter, +and his face broke into a twisted sort of smile. It was not altogether +unpleasant, yet was there something about it which made one shiver. It +spoke the character of the man, pitiless, determined, omniscient +almost, as if the spirit of a grim and unrelenting fate walked with him. + +Again he nodded, and held out a hand. + +"Peter," he called. "Come here, Peter!" + +Peter flattened his ears a fraction of an inch, but did not move. Even +that fraction of an inch caught Breault's keen eyes. + +"Still a one-man dog," he observed, stepping well inside the cabin, and +facing Father John. "Where is McKay, Father?" + +He had not closed the door, and Peter saw his chance. The Leaf Bud saw +him pass like a shot out into the night, but as he went she made no +effort to call him back, for her ears were wide open as Breault +repeated his question, + +"Where is McKay, Father?" + +Peter heard the man-hunter's voice from the darkness outside. For +barely an instant he paused, picking up the fresh scent of Nada and +Jolly Roger. It was easy to follow--straight to the pool, and from the +pool twenty paces down-stream, where a little finger of sand and +pebbles had been formed by the eddies. In this bar was fresh imprint of +the canoe, and here the footprints ended. + +Peter whimpered, peering into the tunnel of darkness between forest +trees, where the water rippled and gurgled softly on its way into a +deeper and more tangled wilderness. He waded belly-deep into the +current, half determined to swim; and then he waited, listening +intently, but could hear no sound of voice or paddle stroke. + +Yet he knew Jolly Roger and Nada could not be far away. + +He returned to the edge of the pool, and began sniffing his way +down-stream, pausing every two or three minutes to listen. Now and then +he caught the presence of those he sought, in the air, but those +intervals in which he stopped to catch sound of voice or paddle lost +him time, so the canoe was traveling faster than Peter. + +Half way between himself and the bow of that canoe McKay could dimly +make out Nada's pale face in the star glow that filtered like a mist +through the tops of the close-hanging trees. + +Scarcely above his breath he laughed in joyous confidence. + +"At last my dream is coming true, Nada," he whispered. "You are mine. +And we are going into another world. And no one will ever find us +there--no one but Father John, when we send him word. You are not +afraid?" + +Her voice trembled a little in the gloom. + +"No, I am not afraid. But it is dark--so dark--" + +"The moon will be with us again in a few nights--your moon, with the +Old Man smiling down on us. I know how the Man in the Moon must feel +when he's on the other side of the world, and can't see you, Nada." + +Her silence made him lean toward her, striving to get a better view of +her face where the starlight broke through an opening in the tree-tops. + +And in that moment he heard a little breath that was almost a sob. + +"It's Peter," she said, before he could speak. "Oh, Roger, why didn't +we bring Peter?" + +"Possibly--we should have," he replied, skipping a stroke with his +paddle. "But I think we have done the best thing for Peter. He is a +wilderness dog, and has never known anything different. Over there, +where we are going--" + +"I understand. And some day, Father John will bring him?" + +"Yes. He has promised that. Peter will come to us when Father John +comes." + +She had turned, looking into the pit-gloom ahead of them, so dark that +the canoe seemed about to drive against a wall. Under its bow the water +gurgled like oil. + +"We are entering the big cedar swamp," he explained. "It is like Blind +Man's Buff, isn't it? Can you see?" + +"Not beyond the bow of the canoe, Roger." + +"Work back to me," he said, "very carefully." + +She came, obediently. + +"Now turn slowly, so that you face the bow, and lean back with your +head against my knees." + +This also, she did. + +"This is much nicer," she whispered, nestling her head comfortably +against him. "So much nicer." + +By leaning over until his back nearly cracked he was able to find her +lips in the darkness. + +"I was thinking of the brush that overhangs the stream," he explained +when he had straightened himself. "Sitting up as you were it might have +caused you hurt." + +There was a little silence between them, in which his paddle caught +again its slow and steady rhythm. Then, + +"Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger--and of the hurt it might +cause me?" + +"Yes, only of that," and he chuckled softly. + +"Then I don't think it nice here at all," she complained. "I shall sit +up straight so the brush may put my eyes out!" + +But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to +interrupt his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant with +her hand. + +"It's there," she purled, as if utterly comforted. "I wanted to be +sure--it is so dark!" + +With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic tunnel +ahead, they were happy. Staring straight before him, though utterly +unable to see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and in every +breath he drew the exquisite thrill of a miracle. And the same thrill +swept into him and through him from the softly breathing body of Nada. +Light or darkness made no difference now. Together, inseparable from +this time forth, they had started on the one great adventure of their +lives, and for them fear had ceased to exist. The night sheltered them. +Its very blackness held in its embrace a warmth of welcome and of +unending hope. Twice in the next half hour he put his hand to Nada's +face, and each time she pressed her lips against it, sweet with that +confidence which so completely possessed her soul. + +Very slowly they moved through the swamp, for because of the gloom his +paddle-strokes were exceedingly short, and he was feeling his way. +Frequently he ran into brush, or struck the boggy shore, and +occasionally Nada would hold lighted matches while he extricated the +canoe from tree-tops and driftwood that impeded the way. He loved the +brief glimpses he caught of her face in the match-glow, and twice he +deliberately wasted the tiny flares that he might hold the vision of +her a little longer. + +At last he began to feel the pulse of a current against his paddle, and +soon after that the star-mist began filtering through the thinning +tree-tops again, so that he knew they were almost through the swamp. +Another half-hour and they were free of it, with a clear sky overhead +and the cheering song of running water on both sides of them. + +Nada sat up, and it was now so light that he could see the soft shimmer +of her hair in the starlight. He also saw a pretty little grimace in +her face, even as she smiled at him. + +"I--I can't move," she exclaimed. "UGH! my feet are asleep--" + +"We'll go ashore and stretch ourselves," said McKay, who had looked at +his watch in the light of the last match. "We've two hours the start of +Breault, and there is no other canoe." + +He began watching the shore closely, and it was not long before he made +out the white smoothness of a sandbar on their right. Here they landed +and for half an hour rested their cramped limbs. + +Then they went on, and in his heart McKay blessed the deep swamp that +lay between them and Breault. + +"I don't think he can make it without a canoe, even if he guesses we +went this way," he explained to Nada. "And that means--we are safe." + +There was a cheery ring in his voice which would have changed to the +deadness of cold iron could he have looked back into that sluggish pit +of the Burntwood through which they had come, or could he have seen +into the heart of the still blacker swamp. + +For through the swamp, feeling his way in the black abysses and amid +the monster-ghosts of darkness, came Peter. + +And down the Burntwood, between the boggy mucklips of the swamp, a man +followed with slow but deadly surety, guiding with a long pole two +light cedar timbers which he had lashed together with wire, and which +bore him safely and in triumph where the canoe had gone before him. + +This man was Breault, the man-hunter. + +"The swamp will hold him!" McKay was saying again, exultantly. "Even if +he guesses our way, the swamp will hold him back, Nada." + +"But he won't know the way we have come," cried Nada, the faith in her +voice answering his own. "Father John will guide him in another +direction." + +Back in the pit-gloom, with a grim smile now and then relaxing the +tight-set compression of his thin lips, and with eyes that stared like +a night-owl's into the gloom ahead of him, Breault poled steadily on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Dripping from the bog-holes and lathered with mud, it was the mystery +of Breault's noiseless presence somewhere near him in the still night +that drew Peter continually deeper into the swamp. + +Half a dozen times he caught the scent of him in a quiet air that +seemed only now and then to rise up in his face softly, as if stirred +by butterflies' wings. Always it came from ahead, and Peter's mind +worked swiftly to the decision that where Breault was there also would +be Nada and Jolly Roger. Yet he caught the scent of neither of these +two, and that puzzled him. + +Many times he found himself at the edge of the black lip of water, but +never quite at the right time to see a shadow in its darkness, or hear +the sound of Breault's pole. + +But in the swamp, as he went on, he saw nothing but shadow, and heard +weird and nameless sounds which made his blood creep, even though his +courage was now full-grown within him. + +He was not frightened at the ugly sputter of the owls, as in the days +of old. Their throaty menace and snapping beaks did not stop him nor +turn him aside. The slashing scrape of claws in the bark of trees and +the occasional crackling of brush were matters of intimate knowledge, +and he gave but little attention to them in his eagerness to reach +those who had gone ahead of him. What troubled him, and filled his eyes +with sudden red glares, were the oily gurgles of the pitfalls which +tried to suck him down; the laughing madness of muck that held him as +if living things were in it, and which spluttered and coughed when he +freed himself. + +Half blinded at times, so that even the black shadows were blotted out, +he went on. And at last, coming again to the edge of the stream, he +heard a new kind of sound--the slow, steady dipping of Breault's pole. + +He hurried on, finding harder ground under his feet, and came +noiselessly abreast of the man on his raft of cedar timbers. He could +almost hear his breathing. And very faintly he could see in the vast +gloom a shadow--a shadow that moved slowly against the background of a +still deeper shadow beyond. + +But there was no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and whatever desire had +risen in him to make himself known was smothered by caution and +suspicion. After this he did not go ahead of Breault, but kept behind +him or abreast of him, within sound of the dipping pole. And every +minute his heart thumped expectantly, and he sniffed the new air for +signs of those he most desired to find. + +Dawn was breaking in the sky when they came out of the swamp, and the +first flush of the sun was lighting up the east when Breault headed his +improvised craft for the sandbar upon which Nada and McKay had rested +many hours before. + +Breault was tired, but his eyes lighted up when he saw the footprints +in the sand, and he chuckled--almost good humoredly. As a matter of +fact he was in a good humor. But one would not have reckoned it as such +in Breault. A hard man, the forests called him; a man with the hunting +instincts of the fox and the wolf and the merciless persistency of the +weazel--a man who lived his code to the last letter of the law, without +pity and without favoritism. At least so he was judged, and his hard, +narrow eyes, his thin lips and his cynically lined face seldom betrayed +the better thoughts within him, if he possessed any at all. In the +Service he was regarded as a humanly perfect mechanism, a bit of +machinery that never failed, the dreaded Nemesis to be set on the trail +of a wrong-doer when all others had failed. + +But this morning, with every bone and muscle in him aching from his +long night of tedious exertion, the chuckle grew into a laugh as he +looked upon the telltale signs in the sand. + +He stretched himself and his tired bones cracked. + +Breault did not think aloud. But he was saying to himself. + +"There, against that rock, Jolly Roger McKay sat There is the imprint +of only one person sitting. The girl was in his arms. Here are little +holes where her outstretched heels rested in the sand. She is wearing +shoes and not moccasins." + +He grinned as he drew his service pack from the two-log cedar raft. + +"Plenty of time now," he continued to think. "They are mine this +time--sure. They believe they have fooled me, and they haven't. That's +fatal. Always." + +Not infrequently, when entirely alone, Breault let a little part of +himself loose, as if freeing a prisoner from bondage for a short time. +For instance, he whistled. It was not an unpleasant whistle, but rather +oddly reminiscent of tender things he remembered away back somewhere; +and as he fried his bacon and steamed a handful of desiccated potatoes +he hummed a song, also rather pleasant to ears that were as closely +attentive as Peter's. + +For Peter had crept up through a tangle of ground-scrub and lay not +twenty paces away, smelling of the bacon hungrily, and watching +intently from his concealment. + +Peter knew the fox and the wolf, but he did not know Breault, and he +did not guess why the man's whistling grew a little louder, nor why his +humming voice grew stronger. But after a time, with his back and not +his face toward Peter, Breault called in the most natural and +matter-of-fact voice in the world, + +"Come on, Peter. Breakfast is ready!" + +Peter's jaws dropped in amazement. And as Breault turned toward him, +his thin face a-grin, and continued to invite him in a most +companionable way, he forgot his concealment entirely and stood up +straight, ready either to fight or fly. + +Breault tossed him a dripping slice of bacon which he held in his hand. +It fell within a foot of Peter's nose, and Peter was ravenously hungry. +The delicious odor of it demoralized his senses and his caution. For a +few seconds he resisted, then thrust himself out toward it an inch at a +time, made a sudden grab, and swallowed it at one gulp. + +Breault laughed outright, and with the first of the sun striking into +his face he did not look like an enemy to Peter. + +A second slice of bacon followed the first, and then a third--until +Breault was frying another mess over the fire. + +"That's partial payment for what you did up on the Barren," he was +saying inside himself. "If it hadn't been for you--" + +He didn't even imagine the rest. Nor after that did he pay the +slightest attention to Peter. For Breault knew dogs possibly even +better than he knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give Peter +to understand that he was interested in him at all. He washed his +dishes, whistling and humming, reloaded his pack on the raft, and once +more began poling his way downstream. + +Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but felt a +further sense of abandonment. After all, this man was not his enemy, +and he was leaving him as his master and mistress had left him. He +whined. And Breault was not out of sight when he trotted down to the +sandbar, and quickly found the scent of Nada and McKay. Purposely +Breault had left a lump of desiccated potato as big as his fist, and +this Peter ate as ravenously as he had eaten the bacon. Then, just as +Breault knew he would do, he began following the raft. + +Breault did not hurry, and he did not rest. There was something almost +mechanically certain in his slow but steady progress, though he knew it +was possible for the canoe to outdistance him three to one. He was +missing nothing along the shore. Three times during the forenoon he saw +where the canoe had landed, and he chuckled each time, thinking of the +old story of the tortoise and the hare. He stopped for not more than +two or three minutes at each of these places, and was then on his way +again. + +Peter was fascinated by the unexcited persistency of the man's +movement. He followed it, watched it, and became more and more +interested in the unvarying monotony of it. There were the same +up-and-down strokes of the long pole, the slight swaying of the +upstanding body, the same eddy behind the cedar logs--and occasionally +wisps of smoke floating behind when the pursuer smoked his pipe. Not +once did Peter see Breault turn his head to look behind him. Yet +Breault was seeing everything. Five times that morning he saw Peter, +but not once did he make a sign or call to him. + +He drove his raft ashore at twelve o'clock to prepare his dinner, and +after he had built a fire, and his cooking things were scattered about, +he straightened himself up and called in that same matter-of-fact way, +as if expecting an immediate response, + +"Here, Peter!--Peter!--Come in, Boy!" + +And Peter came. Fighting against the last instinct that held him back +he first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at Breault. +Breault paid no attention to him for a few moments, but sliced his +bacon. When the perfume of the cooking meat reached Peter's nose he +edged himself a little nearer, and with a whimpering sigh flattened +himself on his belly. + +Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, + +"Hungry again, Peter?" he inquired casually. + +He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over from +breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the strips to +Peter. As he did this he was thinking to himself, + +"Why am I doing this? I don't want the dog. He will be a nuisance. He +will eat my grub. But it's fair. I'm paying a debt. He helped to save +me up on the Barren." + +Thus did Breault, the man without mercy, the Nemesis, briefly analyze +the matter. And he cooked five pieces of bacon for Peter. + +During the rest of that day Peter made no effort to keep himself in +concealment as he followed Breault and his raft. This afternoon Breault +shot a fawn, and when he made camp that night both he and Peter feasted +on fresh meat. This broke down the last of Peter's suspicion, and +Breault laid a hand on his head. He did not particularly like the feel +of the hand, but he tolerated it, and Breault grunted aloud, with a +note of commendation in his hard voice. + +"A one-man dog--never anything else." + +Half a dozen times during the day Peter had found the scent of Nada and +Roger where they had come ashore, and from this night on he associated +Breault as a necessary agent in his search for them. And with Breault +he went, instinctively guessing the truth. + +The next day they found where Nada and McKay had abandoned the canoe, +and had struck south through the wilderness. This pleased Breault, who +was tired of his poling. This third night there was a new moon, and +something about it stirred in Peter an impulse to run ahead and +overtake those he was seeking. But a still strong instinct held him to +Breault. + +Tonight Breault slept like a dead man on his cedar boughs. He was up +and had a fire built an hour before dawn, and with the first gray +streaking of day was on the trail again. He made no further effort to +follow signs of the pursued, for that was a hopeless task. But he knew +how McKay was heading, and he traveled swiftly, figuring to cover twice +the distance that Nada might travel in the same given time. It was +three o'clock in the afternoon when he came to a great ridge, and on +its highest pinnacle he stopped. + +Peter had grown restless again, and a little more suspicious of +Breault. He was not afraid of him, but all that day he had found no +scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and slowly the conviction was impinging +itself upon him that he should seek for himself in the wilderness. + +Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. + +"I'll keep my eye on the dog," he thought. "He has a nose, and an +uncanny sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. I +believe McKay and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they have +traveled more slowly than I thought, and haven't passed this ridge; or +it may be they are down there, in the plain. If so I should catch sign +of smoke or fire--in time." + +For an hour he kept watch over the plain through his binoculars, +seeking for a wisp of smoke that might rise at any time over the +treetops. He did not lose sight of Peter, questing out in widening +circles below him. And then, quite unexpectedly, something happened. In +the edge of a tiny meadow an eighth of a mile away Peter was acting +strangely. He was nosing the ground, gulping the wind, twisting eagerly +back and forth. Then he set out, steadily and with unmistakable +decision, south and west. + +In a flash Breault was on his feet, had caught up his pack, and was +running for the meadow. And there he found something in the velvety +softness of the earth which brought a grim smile to his thin lips as +he, too, set out south and west. + +The scent he had found, hours old, drew Peter on until in the edge of +the dusk of evening it brought him to a foot-worn trail leading to the +Hudson's Bay Company post many miles south. In this path, beaten by the +feet of generations of forest dwellers, the hard heels of McKay's boots +had made their imprint, and after this the scent was clearer under +Peter's nose. But with forest-bred caution he still traveled slowly, +though his blood was burning like a pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost +as swiftly followed Breault behind him. + +Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, +lighting his way between the two walls of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran under +deep forests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch of the +Nelson River flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to meet the +promise of day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, stirring +sleepily to the pulse of an awakening earth. Through it came the first +low twitter of birdsong, a sound that seemed to swell and grow until it +filled the world. Yet was it still a sound of sleep, of half +wakefulness, and the mist was thinning away when, a ruffled little +breast sent out its full throat-song from the tip of a silver birch +that overhung the stream. + +The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was no +stir of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there had been +much to wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. But the girl +was no longer there to sing back at him. The cedar and balsam shelter +dripped with morning dew, the place where fire had been was black and +dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song in +triumph. + +Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him. She +lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsong +seemed to come to her from a great distance away. She smiled, and her +lips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was about to answer it. And +then the song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she +sank back into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a +long time, and out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag +her. + +There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and she +opened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of Jolly +Roger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he was not +looking at her. It must be late, she thought, for the light was strong +in his face, warm with the first golden flow of the sun. She smiled, +and sat up, and shook her soft curls with a happy little laugh. + +"Roger--" + +And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she saw +Peter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew her +breath short and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through her heart. + +Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in from the +timber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying them with an +odd smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this man was Breault. + +There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat there, in +spite of the fact that for a few moments he neither spoke nor moved. +His eyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, and his lips were +like the blades of two knives set together. Yet he was smiling, or half +smiling, not in a comforting or humorous way, but with exultation and +triumph. From looking at him one would never have guessed that Breault +loved his joke. + +He nodded. + +"Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And--good morning, Mrs. Jolly Roger +McKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is duty. I am +Breault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." + +McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin face +widened. + +"I know, it's hard," he said. "But you've got Peter to thank for it. +Peter led me to you." + +He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with his +automatic. + +"Would you mind stepping out, McKay?" he asked. + +In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, and +Nada rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands. + +"No need of those things, Breault," he said. "I'll go peaceably." + +"Still--it's safer," argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. +"Hold out one hand, please--" + +The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. + +"I'm Breault--not Terence Cassidy," he chuckled. "Never take a chance, +you know. Never!" + +Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet +snapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin. + +"Got you both now, haven't I?" he gloated. "Can't get away, can you?" +He put his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. "How do you like married +life, Mrs. Jolly Roger?" + +McKay's face was whiter than Nada's. + +"You coward!" he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "You low-down miserable +coward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean you are going to +keep my wife ironed like this?" + +"Sure," said Breault. "I'm going to make you pay for some of the +trouble I've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, you +know. And a woman, too. And probably you've lied to her like the very +devil." + +"He hasn't!" protested Nada fiercely. "You're a--a--" + +"Say it," nodded Breault good humoredly. "By all means say it, Mrs. +Jolly Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you," and while he +waited he loaded his pipe and lighted it. + +"You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with good +friends like you," he apologized cynically. "In other words you're a +couple of hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of evidence about +you. He says that you, McKay, should be hung the moment we catch you. +He warned me not to take a chance--that you'd slit my throat in the +dark without a prick of conscience. And I'm a valuable man in the +Service. It can't afford to lose me." + +McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer. + +"Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things," Breault +went on. "And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we can have +breakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He saved us up +on the Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about that?" + +He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of birchbark +which he had already placed under dry cedar wood which McKay had +gathered the preceding evening. + +"That's where MY trouble began--up there on the Barren, Mrs. Jolly +Roger," he continued, ignoring McKay. "You see the three of us, +Superintendent Tavish, and Porter--who is now his son-in-law--and I had +a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever in the +history of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of a husband of +yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's only a dog. But +McKay is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful opportunity of dying +in an unusual way by hunting us up and dragging us into his shelter. A +shabby trick, don't you think? And inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish is +about the biggest man in the Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, and +Miss Tavish was saved along with us--why, they reckoned something ought +to be done about it." + +Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel to +the fire. + +"And so--" + +He rose and stood before them again. + +"And so--they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running you +down with a pardon, McKay--a pardon forgiving you for all your sins, +forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!" + +He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, and +held it out now--not to McKay--but to Nada. + +Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile still on +his lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold sort of laughter, +it was as if Breault tortured them with a last horrible joke. Then, +suddenly, Nada seized the envelope and tore it open, while McKay stared +at Breault, believing, and yet not daring to speak. + +It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, +that told him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her +hand she smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came +up grinning behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in +the handcuffs. + +"I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you," he +said, attending to the fire again. "For instance, that red-headed +good-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building a four-room +bungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will be finished by the +time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow Bird, and a redskin who +calls himself Slim Buck, sent word that you will always be welcome in +their hunting grounds. And a pretty little thing named Sun Cloud sent +as many kisses as there are leaves on the trees--" + +[Illustration: "--a squaw named Yellow Bird send word that you would +be welcome."] + +He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, glorious +eyes of the girl upon him. + +"But the funniest thing of all is the baby," he went on, preparing to +slice bacon. "They're going to have one pretty soon--Cassidy's wife, I +mean. They've given it a name already. If it's a boy it's Roger--if +it's a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, +aren't they? A couple of young fools--" + +Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life of +Franois Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in a pair +of arms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and pitiless +mouth a pair of soft red lips pressed for a single thrilling instant. +"Well, I'll be damned," he gasped, dropping his bacon and staggering to +his feet like a man who had been shot. "I'll be--CUSSED!" + +And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young spruce at +the edge of the timber, without saying another word or once looking +behind him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly Roger and Peter +waited, but Franois Breault did not return. For a strange and +unaccountable man was he, a hard and pitiless man and a deadly hunter +who knew no fear. Yet the wilderness swallowed him, a coward at +last--running away from the two red lips that had kissed him. + +So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of mercy; +and at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew that +something glad had happened, and offered up its gratitude in a sudden +burst of song. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + +***** This file should be named 4743-8.txt or 4743-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4743/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Country Beyond + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: December 8, 2009 [EBook #4743] +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks, David Widger, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE COUNTRY BEYOND + </h1> + <h2> + A ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By James Oliver Curwood + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of The Valley Of Silent Men, The Flaming Forest, Etc. + </h4> + <blockquote> + <p> + A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty + battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a + million people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in + the history of human lives; yet these things Peter did not know. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE COUNTRY BEYOND</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE COUNTRY BEYOND + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + Not far from the rugged and storm-whipped north shore of Lake Superior, + and south of the Kaministiqua, yet not as far south as the Rainy River + waterway, there lay a paradise lost in the heart of a wilderness world—and + in that paradise “a little corner of hell.” + </p> + <p> + That was what the girl had called it once upon a time, when sobbing out + the shame and the agony of it to herself. That was before Peter had come + to leaven the drab of her life. But the hell was still there. + </p> + <p> + One would not have guessed its existence, standing at the bald top of + Cragg's Ridge this wonderful thirtieth day of May. In the whiteness of + winter one could look off over a hundred square miles of freezing forest + and swamp and river country, with the gleam of ice-covered lakes here and + there, fringed by their black spruce and cedar and balsam—a country + of storm, of deep snows, and men and women whose blood ran red with the + thrill that the hardship and the never-ending adventure of the wild. + </p> + <p> + But this was spring. And such a spring as had not come to the Canadian + north country in many years. Until three days ago there had been a deluge + of warm rains, and since then the sun had inundated the land with the + golden warmth of summer. The last chill was gone from the air, and the + last bit of frozen earth and muck from the deepest and blackest swamps, + North, south, east and west the wilderness world was a glory of bursting + life, of springtime mellowing into summer. Ridge upon ridge of yellows and + greens and blacks swept away into the unknown distances like the billows + of a vast sea; and between them lay the valleys and swamps, the lakes and + waterways, glad with the rippling song of running waters, the sweet scents + of early flowering time, and the joyous voice of all mating creatures. + </p> + <p> + Just under Cragg's Ridge lay the paradise, a meadow-like sweep of plain + that reached down to the edge of Clearwater Lake, with clumps of poplars + and white birch and darker tapestries of spruce and balsams dotting it + like islets in a sea of verdant green. The flowers were two weeks ahead of + their time and the sweet perfumes of late June, instead of May, rose up + out of the plain, and already there was nesting in the velvety splashes of + timber. + </p> + <p> + In the edge of a clump of this timber, flat on his belly, lay Peter. The + love of adventure was in him, and today he had sallied forth on his most + desperate enterprise. For the first time he had gone alone to the edge of + Clearwater Lake, half a mile away; boldly he had trotted up and down the + white strip of beach where the girl's footprints still remained in the + sand, and defiantly he had yipped at the shimmering vastness of the water, + and at the white gulls circling near him in quest of dead fish flung + ashore. Peter was three months old. Yesterday he had been a timid pup, + shrinking from the bigness and strangeness of everything about him; but + today he had braved the lake trail on his own nerve, and nothing had dared + to come near him in spite of his yipping, so that a great courage and a + great desire were born in him. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, in returning, he had paused in the edge of a great clump of + balsams and spruce, and lay flat on his belly, his sharp little eyes + leveled yearningly at the black mystery of its deeper shadows. The bit of + forest filled a cup-like depression in the plain, and was possibly half a + rifle-shot distance from end to end—but to Peter it was as vast as + life itself. And something urged him to go in. + </p> + <p> + And as he lay there, desire and indecision struggling for mastery within + him, no power could have told Peter that destinies greater than his own + were working through the soul of the dog that was in him, and that on his + decision to go in or not to go in—on the triumph of courage or + cowardice—there rested the fates of lives greater than his own, of + men, and women, and of little children still unborn. A glass of wine once + lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty battle, and a woman's + smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a million people. Thus have + trivial things played their potent parts in the history of human lives, + yet these things Peter did not know—nor that his greatest hour had + come. + </p> + <p> + At last he rose from his squatting posture, and stood upon his feet. He + was not a beautiful pup, this Peter Pied-Bot—or Peter Club-foot, as + Jolly Roger McKay—who lived over in the big cedar swamp—had + named him when he gave Peter to the girl. He was, in a way, an accident + and a homely one at that. His father was a blue-blooded fighting Airedale + who had broken from his kennel long enough to commit a MESALLIANCE with a + huge big footed and peace-loving Mackenzie hound—and Peter was the + result. He wore the fiercely bristling whiskers of his Airedale father at + the age of three months; his ears were flappy and big, his tail was + knotted, and his legs were ungainly and loose, with huge feet at the end + of them—so big and heavy that he stumbled frequently, and fell on + his nose. One pitied him at first—and then loved him. For Peter, in + spite of his homeliness, had the two best bloods of all dog creation in + his veins. Yet in a way it was like mixing nitro-glycerin with olive oil, + or dynamite and saltpeter with milk and honey. + </p> + <p> + Peter's heart was thumping rapidly as he took a step toward the deeper + shadows. He swallowed hard, as if to clear a knot out of his scrawny + throat. But he had made up his mind. Something was compelling him, and he + would go in. Slowly the gloom engulfed him, and once again the whimsical + spirit of fatalism had chosen a trivial thing to work out its ends in the + romance and tragedy of human lives. + </p> + <p> + Grim shadows began to surround Peter, and his ears shot up, and a scraggly + brush stood out along his spine. But he did not bark, as he had barked + along the shore of the lake, and in the green opens. Twice he looked back + to the shimmer of sunshine that was growing more and more indistinct. As + long as he could see this, and knew that his retreat was open, there still + remained a bit of that courage which was swiftly ebbing in the thickening + darkness. But the third time he looked back the light of the sun was + utterly gone! For an instant the knot rose up in his throat and choked + him, and his eyes popped, and grew like little balls of fire in his + intense desire to see through the gloom. Even the girl, who was afraid of + only one thing in the world, would have paused where Peter stood, with a + little quickening of her heart. For all the light of the day, it seemed to + Peter, had suddenly died out. Over his head the spruce and cedar and + balsam tops grew so thick they were like a canopy of night. Through them + the snow never came in winter, and under them the light of a blazing sun + was only a ghostly twilight. + </p> + <p> + And now, as he stood there, his whole soul burning with a desire to see + his way out, Peter began to hear strange sounds. Strangest of all, and + most fearsome, was a hissing that came and went, sometimes very near to + him, and always accompanied by a grating noise that curdled his blood. + Twice after that he saw the shadow of the great owl as it swooped over + him, and he flattened himself down, the knot in his throat growing bigger + and more choking. And then he heard the soft and uncanny movement of huge + feathered bodies in the thick shroud of boughs overhead, and slowly and + cautiously he wormed himself around, determined to get back to sunshine + and day as quickly as he could. It was not until he had made this movement + that the real chill of horror gripped at his heart. Straight behind him, + directly in the path he had traveled, he saw two little green balls of + flame! + </p> + <p> + It was instinct, and not reason or experience, which told Peter there was + menace and peril in these two tiny spots blazing in the gloom. He did not + know that his own eyes, popping half out of his head, were equally + terrifying in that pit of silence, nor that from him emanated a still more + terrifying thing—the scent of dog. He trembled on his wobbly legs as + the green eyes stared at him, and his back seemed to break in the middle, + so that he sank helplessly down upon the soft spruce needles, waiting for + his doom. In another flash the twin balls of green fire were gone. In a + moment they appeared again, a little farther away. Then a second time they + were gone, and a third time they flashed back at him—so distant they + appeared like needle-points in the darkness. Something stupendous rose up + in Peter. It was the soul of his Airedale father, telling him the other + thing was running away! And in the joy of triumph Peter let out a yelp. In + that night-infested place, alive with hiding things, the yelp set loose + weird rustlings in the tangled treetops, strange murmurings of chortling + voices, and the nasty snapping of beaks that held in them the power to + rend Peter's skinny body into a hundred bits. From deeper in the thicket + came the sudden crash of a heavy body, and with it the chuckling notes of + a porcupine, and a HOO-HOO-HOO-EE of startled inquiry that at first Peter + took for a human voice. And again he lay shivering close to the foot-deep + carpet of needles under him, while his heart thumped against his ribs, and + his whiskers stood out in mortal fear. There followed a weird and + appalling silence, and in that stillness Peter quested vainly for the + sunlight he had lost. And then, indistinctly, but bringing with it a new + thrill, he heard another sound. It was a soft and distant rippling of + running water. He knew that sound. It was friendly. He had played among + the rocks and pebbles and sand where it was made. His courage came back, + and he rose up on his legs, and made his way toward it. Something inside + him told him to go quietly, but his feet were big and clumsy, and half a + dozen times in the next two minutes he stumbled on his nose. At last he + came to the stream, scarcely wider than a man might have reached across, + rippling and plashing its way through the naked roots of trees. And ahead + of him Peter saw light. He quickened his pace, until at the last he was + running when he came out into the edge of the meadowy plain, with its + sweetness of flowers and green grass and song of birds, and its glory of + blue sky and sun. + </p> + <p> + If he had ever been afraid, Peter forgot it now. The choking went out of + his throat, his heart fell back in its place, and the fierce conviction + that he had vanquished everything in the world possessed him. He peered + back into the dark cavern of evergreen out of which the streamlet gurgled, + and then trotted straight away from it, growling back his defiance as he + ran. At a safe distance he stopped, and faced about. Nothing was following + him, and the importance of his achievements grew upon him. He began to + swell; his fore-legs he planted pugnaciously, he hollowed his back, and + began to bark with all the puppyish ferocity that was in him. And though + he continued to yelp, and pounded the earth with his paws, and tore up the + green grass with his sharp little teeth, nothing dared to come out of the + black forest in answer to his challenge! + </p> + <p> + His head was high and his ears cocked jauntily as he trotted up the slope, + and for the first time in his three months of existence he yearned to give + battle to something that was alive. He was a changed Peter, no longer + satisfied with the thought of gnawing sticks or stones or mauling a rabbit + skin. At the crest of the slope he stopped, and yelped down, almost + determined to go back to that black patch of forest and chase out + everything that was in it. Then he turned toward Cragg's Ridge, and what + he saw seemed slowly to shrink up the pugnaciousness that was in him, and + his stiffened tail drooped until the knotty end of it touched the ground. + </p> + <p> + Three or four hundred yards away, out of the heart of that cup-like + paradise which ran back through a break in the ridge, rose a spiral of + white smoke, and with the sight of that smoke Peter heard also the + chopping of axe. It made him shiver, and yet he made his way toward it. He + was not old enough—nor was it in the gentle blood of his Mackenzie + mother—to know the meaning of hate; but something was growing + swiftly in Peter's shrewd little head, and he sensed impending danger + whenever he heard the sound of the axe. For always there was associated + with that sound the cat-like, thin-faced man with the red bristle on his + upper lip, and the one eye that never opened but was always closed. And + Peter had come to fear this one eyed man more than he feared any of the + ghostly monsters hidden in the black pit of the forest he had braved that + day. + </p> + <p> + But the owls, and the porcupine, and the fiery-eyed fox that had run away + from him, had put into Peter something which was not in him yesterday, and + he did not slink on his belly when he came to the edge of the cup between + the broken ridge, but stood up boldly on his crooked legs and looked ahead + of him. At the far edge of the cup, under the western shoulder of the + ridge, was a thick scattering of tall cedars and green poplars and white + birch, and in the shelter of these was a cabin built of logs. A lovelier + spot could not have been chosen for the home of man. The hollow, from + where Peter stood, was a velvety carpet of green, thickly strewn with + flowers and ferns, sweet with the scent of violets and wild honey-suckle, + and filled with the song of birds. Through the middle of it purled a tiny + creek which disappeared between the ragged shoulders of rock, and close to + this creek stood the cabin, its log walls smothered under a luxuriant + growth of wood-vine. But Peter's quizzical little eyes were not measuring + the beauty of the place, nor were his ears listening to the singing of + birds, or the chattering of a red-squirrel on a stub a few yards away. He + was looking beyond the cabin, to a chalk-white mass of rock that rose like + a giant mushroom in the edge of the trees—and he was listening to + the ringing of the axe, and straining his ears to catch the sound of a + voice. + </p> + <p> + It was the voice he wanted most of all, and when this did not come he + choked back a whimper in his throat, and went down to the creek, and waded + through it, and came up cautiously behind the cabin, his eyes and ears + alert and his loosely jointed legs ready for flight at a sign of danger. + He wanted to set up his sharp yipping signal for the girl, but the menace + of the axe choked back his desire. At the very end of the cabin, where the + wood-vine grew thick and dense, Peter had burrowed himself a hiding-place, + and into this he skulked with the quickness of a rat getting away from its + enemies. From this protecting screen he cautiously poked forth his + whiskered face, to make what inventory he could of his chances for supper + and a safe home-coming. + </p> + <p> + And as he looked forth his heart gave a sudden jump. + </p> + <p> + It was the girl, and not the man who was using the axe today. At the big + wood-pile half a stone's throw away he saw the shimmer of her brown curls + in the sun, and a glimpse of her white face as it was turned for an + instant toward the cabin. In his gladness he would have leaped out, but + the curse of a voice he had learned to dread held him back. + </p> + <p> + A man had come out of the cabin, and close behind the man, a woman. The + man was a long, lean, cadaverous-faced creature, and Peter knew that the + devil was in him as he stood there at the cabin door. His breath, if one + had stood close enough to smell it, was heavy with whiskey. Tobacco juice + stained the corners of his mouth, and his one eye gleamed with an + animal-like exultation as he nodded toward the girl with the shining + curls. + </p> + <p> + “Mooney says he'll pay seven-fifty for her when he gets his tie-money from + the Government, an' he paid me fifty down,” he said. “It'll help pay for + the brat's board these last ten years—an' mebby, when it comes to a + show-down, I can stick him for a thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The woman made no answer. She was, in a way, past answering with a mind of + her own. The man, as he stood there, was wicked and cruel, every line in + his ugly face and angular body a line of sin. The woman was bent, broken, + a wreck. In her face there was no sign of a living soul. Her eyes were + dull, her heart burned out, her hands gnarled with toil under the slavedom + of a beast. Yet even Peter, quiet as a mouse where he lay, sensed the + difference between them. He had seen the girl and this woman sobbing in + each other's arms. And often he had crawled to the woman's feet, and + occasionally her hand had touched him, and frequently she had given him + things to eat. But it was seldom he heard her voice when the man was near. + </p> + <p> + The man was biting off a chunk of black tobacco. Suddenly he asked, + </p> + <p> + “How old is she, Liz?” + </p> + <p> + And the woman answered in a strange and husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen the twelfth day of this month.” + </p> + <p> + The man spat. + </p> + <p> + “Mooney ought to pay a thousand. We've had her better'n ten years—an' + Mooney's crazy as a loon to git her. He'll pay!” + </p> + <p> + “Jed—” The woman's voice rose above its hoarseness. “Jed—it + ain't right!” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. He opened his mouth wide, until his yellow fangs gleamed + in the sun, and the girl with the axe paused for a moment in her work, and + flung back her head, staring at the two before the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + “Right?” jeered the man. “Right? That's what you been preachin' me these + last ten years 'bout whiskey-runnin,' but it ain't made me stop sellin' + whiskey, has it? An' I guess it ain't a word that'll come between Mooney + and me—not if Mooney gits his thousand.” Suddenly he turned upon + her, a hand half raised to strike. “An' if you whisper a word to her—if + y' double-cross me so much as the length of your little finger—I'll + break every bone in your body, so help me God! You understand? You won't + say anything to her?” + </p> + <p> + The woman's uneven shoulders drooped lower. + </p> + <p> + “I won't say ennything, Jed. I—promise.” + </p> + <p> + The man dropped his uplifted hand with a harsh grunt. + </p> + <p> + “I'll kill y' if you do,” he warned. + </p> + <p> + The girl had dropped her axe, and was coming toward them. She was a slim, + bird-like creature, with a poise to her head and an up-tilt to her chin + which warned that the man had not yet beaten her to the level of the + woman. She was dressed in a faded calico, frayed at the bottom, and with + the sleeves bobbed off just above the elbows of her slim white arms. Her + stockings were mottled with patches and mends, and her shoes were old, and + worn out at the toes. + </p> + <p> + But to Peter, worshipping her from his hiding place, she was the most + beautiful thing in the world. Jolly Roger had said the same thing, and + most men—and women, too—would have agreed that this slip of a + girl possessed a beauty which it would take a long time for unhappiness + and torture to crush entirely out of her. Her eyes were as blue as the + violets Peter had thrust his nose among that day. And her hair was a + glory, loosed by her exertion from its bondage of faded ribbon, and + falling about her shoulders and nearly to her waist in a mass of curling + brown tresses that at times had made even Jed Hawkins' one eye light of + with admiration. And yet, even in those times, he hated her, and more than + once his bony fingers had closed viciously in that mass of radiant hair, + but seldom could he wring a scream of pain from Nada. Even now, when she + could see the light of the devil in his one gleaming eye, it was only her + flesh—and not her soul—that was afraid. + </p> + <p> + But the strain had begun to show its mark. In the blue of her eyes was the + look of one who was never free of haunting visions, her cheeks were + pallid, and a little too thin, and the vivid redness of her lips was not + of health and happiness, but a touch of the color which should have been + in her face, and which until now had refused to die. + </p> + <p> + She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her,” she cried in a + fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming loathing and hatred + at him. “If you hit her once more—something is going to happen. If + you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand it. But—look at her! + You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled her—an' you oughta die!” + </p> + <p> + The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him Peter felt + something he had never felt before. For the first time in his life he had + no desire to run away from the man. Something rose up from his bony little + chest, and grew in his throat, until it was a babyish snarl so low that no + human ears could hear it. And in his hiding-place his needle-like fangs + gleamed under snarling lips. + </p> + <p> + But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his fingers in + the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if something was choking + him, and turned away with a toss of his arms. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?” he said, and + disappeared around the end of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but she was + trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any more,” she + comforted. “If he does, I'll end him. I will! I'll bring the police. I'll + show 'em the places where he hides his whiskey. I'll—I'll put him in + jail, if I die for it!” + </p> + <p> + The woman's bony hands clutched at one of Nada's. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you mustn't do that,” she pleaded. “He was good to me once, a + long time ago, Nada. It ain't Jed that's bad—it's the whiskey. You + mustn't tell on him, Nada—you mustn't!” + </p> + <p> + “I've promised you I won't—if he don't hit you any more. He kin + shake me by the hair if he wants to. But if he hits you—” + </p> + <p> + She drew a deep breath, and also passed around the end of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments Peter listened. Then he slipped back through the tunnel + he had made under the wood-vine, and saw Nada walking swiftly toward the + break in the ridge. He followed, so quietly that she was through the + break, and was picking her way among the tumbled masses of rock along the + farther foot of the ridge, before she discovered his presence. With a glad + cry she caught him up in her arms and hugged him against her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, Peter, where have you been?” she demanded. “I thought something + had happened to you, and I've been huntin' for you, and so has Roger—I + mean Mister Jolly Roger.” + </p> + <p> + Peter was hugged tighter, and he hung limply until his mistress came to a + thick little clump of dwarf balsams hidden among the rocks. It was their + “secret place,” and Peter had come to sense the fact that its mystery was + not to be disclosed. Here Nada had made her little bower, and she sat down + now upon a thick rug of balsam boughs, and held Peter out in front of her, + squatted on his haunches. A new light had come into her eyes, and they + were shining like stars. There was a flush in her cheeks, her red lips + were parted, and Peter, looking up—and being just dog—could + scarcely measure the beauty of her. But he knew that something had + happened, and he tried hard to understand. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, he was here ag'in today—Mister Roger—Mister Jolly + Roger,” she cried softly, the pink in her cheeks growing brighter. “And he + told me I was pretty!” + </p> + <p> + She drew a deep breath, and looked out over the rocks to the valley and + the black forest beyond. And her fingers, under Peter's scrawny armpits, + tightened until he grunted. + </p> + <p> + “And he asked me if he could touch my hair—mind you he asked me + that, Peter!—And when I said 'yes' he just put his hand on it, as if + he was afraid, and he said it was beautiful, and that I must take + wonderful care of it!” + </p> + <p> + Peter saw a throbbing in her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—he said he didn't want to do anything wrong to me, that he'd + cut off his hand first. He said that! And then he said—if I didn't + think it was wrong—he'd like to kiss me—” + </p> + <p> + She hugged Peter up close to her again. + </p> + <p> + “And—I told him I guessed it wasn't wrong, because I liked him, and + nobody else had ever kissed me, and—Peter—he didn't kiss me! + And when he went away he looked so queer—so white-like—and + somethin' inside me has been singing ever since. I don't know what it is, + Peter. But it's there!” + </p> + <p> + And then, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she whispered, “I wish Mister Jolly Roger would take us away!” + </p> + <p> + The thought drew a tightening to her lips, and the pucker of a frown + between her eyes, and she sat Peter down beside her and looked over the + valley to the black forest, in the heart of which was Jolly Roger's cabin. + </p> + <p> + “It's funny he don't want anybody to know he's there, ain't it—I + mean—isn't it, Peter?” she mused. “He's livin' in the old shack + Indian Tom died in last winter, and I've promised not to tell. He says + it's a great secret, and that only you, and I, and the Missioner over at + Sucker Creek know anything about it. I'd like to go over and clean up the + shack for him. I sure would.” + </p> + <p> + Peter, beginning to nose among the rocks, did not see the flash of fire + that came slowly into the blue of the girl's eyes. She was looking at her + ragged shoes, at the patched stockings, at the poverty of her faded dress, + and her fingers clenched in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “I'd do it—I'd go away—somewhere—and never come back, if + it wasn't for her,” she breathed. “She treats me like a witch most of the + time, but Jed Hawkins made her that way. I kin remember—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she jumped up, and flung back her head defiantly, so that her + hair streamed out in a sun-filled cloud in a gust of wind that came up the + valley. + </p> + <p> + “Some day, I'll kill 'im,” she cried to the black forest across the plain. + “Some day—I will!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering in her + brain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her unhappiness, + so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of it. But today the + betrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in a hard little voice she + had told Jolly Roger—the stranger who had come into the black forest—how + her mother and father had died of the same plague more than ten years ago, + and how Jed Hawkins and his woman had promised to keep her for three + silver fox skins which her father had caught before the sickness came. + That much the woman had confided in her, for she was only six when it + happened. And she had not dared to look at Jolly Roger when she told him + of what had passed since then, so she saw little of the hardening in his + face as he listened. But he had blown his nose—hard. It was a way + with Jolly Roger, and she had not known him long enough to understand what + it meant. And a little later he had asked her if he might touch her hair—and + his big hand had lain for a moment on her head, as gently as a woman's. + </p> + <p> + Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that hand. It + had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as Peter's + vanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the same for him. Peter + was no longer afraid, and the girl was no longer afraid, and together they + went along the slope of the ridge, until they came to a dried-up coulee + which was choked with a wild upheaval of rock. Here Peter suddenly + stopped, with his nose to the ground, and then his legs stiffened, and for + the first time the girl heard the babyish growl in his throat. For a + moment she stood very still, and listened, and faintly there came to her a + sound, as if someone was scraping rock against rock. The girl drew in a + quick breath; she stood straighter, and Peter—looking up—saw + her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And then she bent down, and picked + up a jagged stick. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go up, Peter,” she whispered. “It's one of his hiding-places!” + </p> + <p> + There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no longer + afraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating little heart as + he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl on tip-toe, and Peter + making no sound with his soft footpads, so that Jed Hawkins was still on + his knees, with his back toward them, when they came out into a square of + pebbles and sand between two giant masses of rock. Yesterday, or the day + before, both Peter and Nada would have slunk back, for Jed was at his + devil's work, and only evil could come to the one who discovered him at + it. He had scooped out a pile of sand from under the edge of the biggest + rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy leather flasks from a jug which + he had pulled from the hole. And then he paused to drink. They could hear + the liquor gurgling down his throat. + </p> + <p> + Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot the man + whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he saw who it was, + and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, his two big fists + clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her. + </p> + <p> + “You damned—spy!” he cried chokingly. “If you was a man—I'd + kill you!” + </p> + <p> + The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spots flamed + in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her eyes. And there + was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, as she said tauntingly. + </p> + <p> + “If I was a man, Jed Hawkins—you'd run!” + </p> + <p> + He took a step toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You'd run,” she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a tighter grip + of her stick. “I ain't ever seen you hit anything but a woman, an' a girl, + or some poor animal that didn't dare bite back. You're a coward, Jed + Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey-sellin' coward—and you oughta + die!” + </p> + <p> + Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this moment + between the two big rocks. It held something in the air, like the + impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the world. He forgot + himself, and looked up at his mistress, a wonderful, slim little thing + standing there at last unafraid before the future—and in his dog + heart and soul a part of the truth came to him, and he planted his big + feet squarely in front of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had never + snarled before in his life. + </p> + <p> + And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he had + humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without suspicion + until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After that—after + he had delivered her to the other's shack—it would all be up to + Mooney, he figured. And this was what had come of his peace-loving + efforts! She was taking advantage of him, defying him, spying upon him—the + brat he had fed and brought up for ten years! Her beauty as she stood + there did not hold him back. It was punishment she needed, a beating, a + hair-pulling, until there was no breath left in her impudent body. He + sprang forward, and Peter let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her + stick. But she was a moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his + right hand shot forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of her + hair. + </p> + <p> + It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, this hour, + this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. All things in the + world were blotted out for him except one—the six inches of naked + shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and his shoe. He dove in. His + white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, sank into it. And a wild and + terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins as he loosed the girl's hair. Peter + heard the yell, and his teeth sank deeper in the flesh of the first thing + he had ever hated. It was the girl, more than Peter, who realized the + horror of what followed. The man bent down and his powerful fingers closed + round Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his wind suddenly shut off, and + his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew back the arm that held him, as he + would have drawn it back to fling a stone. + </p> + <p> + With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, and Peter + went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him fiercely across the + face, and in that same moment there was a sickening, crushing thud as + Peter's loosely-jointed little body struck against the face of the great + rock. When Nada turned Peter was groveling in the sand, his hips and back + broken down, but his bright eyes were on her, and without a whimper or a + whine he was struggling to drag himself toward her. Only Jolly Roger could + tell the story of how Peter's mother had died for a woman, and in this + moment it must have been that her spirit entered into Peter's soul, for + the pain of his terrible hurt was forgotten in his desire to drag himself + back to the feet of the girl, and die facing her enemy—the man. He + did not know that he was dragging his broken body only an inch at a time + through the sand. But the girl saw the terrible truth, and with a cry of + agony which all of Hawkin's torture could not have wrung from her she ran + to him, and fell upon her knees, and gathered him tenderly in her arms. + Then, in a flash, she was on her feet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little + demon. + </p> + <p> + “For that—I'll kill you!” she panted. “I will. I'll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but he + was coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as the + man's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind her a wild fear + possessed her—fear for Peter, and not for herself. Very soon Hawkins + was left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at the fate + that had robbed him of an eye. + </p> + <p> + Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran Nada, + her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter to her + breast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, just as + once upon a time she had heard a baby cry—a little baby that was + dying. And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that Peter, too, was + dying. And as she stumbled onward—on toward the black forest, she + put her face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—Peter—Peter—” + </p> + <p> + And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voice + even in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, and + the girl's breath came in a great sob as she staggered on. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right now, Peter,” she crooned. “It's all right, baby. He won't + hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to Mister Roger's + cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy—” + </p> + <p> + Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her, + just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when the baby died. + For their grief, in God's reckoning of things, was the same; and little + Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that had made them one in flesh + and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, crying softly to + her, and content to die there close to the warmth of the creature he + loved. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry, baby,” she soothed. “Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soon be all + right—all right—” And the sob came again into her throat, and + clung there like a choking fist, until they came to the edge of the big + forest. + </p> + <p> + She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not until then + did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there was no + difference at all between the dying baby's face and dying Peter's, except + that one had been white and soft, and Peter's was different—and + covered with hair. + </p> + <p> + “God'll take care o' you, Peter,” she whispered. “He will—God, 'n' + me, and Mister Roger—” + </p> + <p> + She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not even + God, would ever take care of Peter again—in life. His still little + face and the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. For Peter's + back was broken, and he was going—going even now—as she ran + moaningly with him through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he + died, before his heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach + Jolly Roger's friendly cabin, in the big swamp beyond the creek. It was + not that he could save Peter, but something told her that Jolly Roger's + presence would make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her, for + in this first glad spring of her existence the stranger in the forest + shack had brought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her life; and they + had set him up, she and Peter, as they would have set up a god on a + shrine. + </p> + <p> + So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good half + mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She was staggering, + and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and when she saw the whirl + and rush of water ahead of her she remembered what Jolly Roger had said + about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes widened. Then she looked + down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms, and she drew a quick + breath and made up her mind. She knew that at this shallow place the water + could not be more than up to her waist, even at the flood-tide. But it was + running like a mill-race. + </p> + <p> + She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them there + for a moment, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “We'll make it, Peter,” she whispered. “We ain't afraid, are we, baby? + We'll make it—sure—sure—we'll make it—” + </p> + <p> + She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to her + knees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the water + seemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and tugging at her + as the water deepened to her waist. In another moment she was fighting, + fighting to hold her feet, struggling to keep the forces from driving her + downstream. And then came the supreme moment, close to the shore for which + she was striving. She felt herself giving away, and she cried out brokenly + for Peter not to be afraid. And then something drove pitilessly against + her body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter close with the other—and + caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded like a handle from the black + and slippery log the flood-water had brought down upon her. + </p> + <p> + “We're all right, Peter,” she cried, even in that moment when she knew she + had lost. “We're all ri—” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with her + went Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush of the flood. + </p> + <p> + Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow she was + not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been of the flood-rush + of waters that smashed down the creeks in springtime. An inundating roar + was over her, under her, and all about her; it beat in a hissing thunder + against the drums of her ears, yet it did not frighten her as she had + sometimes been frightened. Even in that black chaos which was swiftly + suffocating the life from her, unspoken words of cheer for Peter formed in + her heart, and she struggled to hold him to her, while with her other hand + she fought to raise herself by the stub of the log to which she clung. For + she was not thinking of him as Peter, the dog, but as something greater—something + that had fought for her that day, and because of her had died. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big log, + turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space her weight + had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the water swirled but + did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then her white face, and with a + last mighty effort she thrust up Peter so that his dripping body was on + the log. Sobbingly she filled her lungs with air. But the drench of water + and her hair blinded her so that she could not see. And she found all at + once that the strength had gone from her body. Vainly she tried to drag + herself up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised herself a little, + so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like a mighty arm from + the log. + </p> + <p> + With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was gone, + and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins himself had + often pulled it, and for a few moments the current pounded against her + body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth as it held her there by her + hair. + </p> + <p> + If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She could see + now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool into which the log + was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, suddenly, her heart seemed to stop + its beating, and her eyes widened, and in that moment of astounding + miracle she forgot that she was hanging by her hair in the ugly lip of the + flood, with slippery hands beating and pulling at her from below. For she + saw Peter—Peter in the edge of the pool—making his way toward + the shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be his dead body + drifting. It could not be Peter—swimming! And yet—his head was + above the water—he was moving shoreward—he was struggling— + </p> + <p> + Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something gave + way. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged into the + current, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the pool struck out + with all her last strength until her feet touched bottom, and she could + stand. She wiped the water from her eyes, sobbing in her breathless fear—her + mighty hope. Peter had reached the shore. He had dragged himself out, and + had crumpled down in a broken heap—but he was facing her, his bright + eyes wide open and questing for her. Slowly Nada went to him. Until now, + when it was all over, she had not realized how helplessly weak she was. + Something was turning round and round in her head, and she was so dizzy + that the shore swam before her eyes, and it seemed quite right to her that + Peter should be alive—and not dead. She was still in a foot of water + when she fell on her knees and dragged herself the rest of the way to him, + and gathered him in her arms again, close up against her wet, choking + breast. + </p> + <p> + And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a twig + overhead; and the water that a little while before had sung of death + rippled with its old musical joy, and about them the birds sang, and very + near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels chattered and played in a + mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair brightened in the sun, and began to + ripple into curls at the end, and Peter's bristling whiskers grew dry—so + that half an hour after she had dragged herself out of the water there was + a new light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her cheeks that was like + the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a rose. + </p> + <p> + “We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter,” she + whispered, a little thrill in her voice. + </p> + <p> + She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked up Peter—and + winced when he gave a little moan. + </p> + <p> + “He'll fix you, Peter,” she comforted. “An' it'll be so nice over here—with + him.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun-filled + forest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world filled her soul, + and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill in the touch of the soft + earth under her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Flowers,” she cried softly. “Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, Peter—” + She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of light and life about + her. And then, “I guess we'll go to Mister Jolly Roger now,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and rebellious glory + about her, and the violet light grew a little darker in her eyes, and the + color a bit deeper in her cheeks as she walked on into the forest over the + faintly worn foot-trail that led to the old cabin where Jolly Roger was + keeping himself away from the eyes of men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + From the little old cabin of dead Indian Tom, built in a grassy glade + close to the shore of Sucker Creek, came the sound of a man's laughter. In + this late afternoon the last flooding gold of the sun filled the open door + of the poplar shack. The man's laughter, like the sun on the mottled + tapestry of the poplar-wood, was a heart-lightening thing there on the + edge of the great swamp that swept back for miles to the north and west. + It was the sort of laughter one seldom hears from a man, not riotous of + over-bold, but a big, clean laughter that came from the soul out. It was + an infectious thing. It drove the gloom out of the blackest night. It + dispelled fear, and if ever there were devils lurking in the edge of old + Indian Tom's swamp they slunk away at the sound of it. And more than once, + as those who lived in tepee and cabin and far-away shack could testify, + that laugh had driven back death itself. + </p> + <p> + In the shack, this last day of May afternoon, stood leaning over a rough + table the man of the laugh—Roger McKay, known as Jolly Roger, outlaw + extraordinary, and sought by the men of every Royal Northwest Mounted + Police patrol north of the Height of Land. + </p> + <p> + It was incongruous and inconceivable to think of him as an outlaw, as he + stood there in the last glow of the sun—an outlaw with the weirdest + and strangest record in all the northland hung up against his name. He was + not tall, and neither was he short, and he was as plump as an apple and as + rosy as its ripest side. There was something cherubic in the smoothness + and the fullness of his face, the clear gray of his eyes, the fine-spun + blond of his short-cropped hair, and the plumpness of his hands and + half-bared arms. He was a priestly, well-fed looking man, was this Jolly + Roger, rotund and convivial in all his proportions, and some in great + error would have called him fat. But it was a strange kind of fatness, as + many a man on the trail could swear to. And as for sin, or one sign of + outlawry, it could not be found in any mark upon him—unless one + closed his eyes to all else and guessed it by the belt and revolver + holster which he wore about his rotund waist. In every other respect Jolly + Roger appeared to be not only a harmless creature, but one especially + designed by the Creator of things to spread cheer and good-will wherever + he went. His age, if he had seen fit to disclose it, was thirty-four. + </p> + <p> + There seemed, at first, to be nothing that even a contented man might + laugh at in the cabin, and even less to bring merriment from one on whose + head a price was set—unless it was the delicious aroma of a supper + just about ready to be served. On a little stove in the farthest corner of + the shack the breasts of two spruce partridges were turning golden brown + in a skittle, and from the broken neck of a coffee pot a rich perfume was + rising with the steam. Piping hot in the open oven half a dozen baked + potatoes were waiting in their crisp brown jackets. + </p> + <p> + From the table Jolly Roger turned, rubbing his hands and chuckling as he + went for a third time to a low shelf built against the cabin wall. There + he carefully raised a mass of old papers from a box, and at the movement + there came a protesting squeak, and a little brown mouse popped up to the + edge of it and peered at him with a pair of bright little questioning + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You little devil!” he exulted. “You nervy little devil!” + </p> + <p> + He raised the papers higher, and again looked upon his discovery of half + an hour ago. In a soft nest lay four tiny mice, still naked and blind, and + as he lowered the mass of papers the mother burrowed back to them, and he + could hear her squeaking and chirruping to the little ones, as if she was + trying to tell them not to be afraid of this man, for she knew him very + well, and it wasn't in his mind to hurt them. And Jolly Roger, as he + returned to the setting of his table, laughed again—and the laugh + rolled out into the golden sunset, and from the top of a spruce at the + edge of the creek a big blue-jay answered it in a riotous challenge. + </p> + <p> + But at the bottom of that laugh, if one could have looked a bit deeper, + was something more than the naked little mice in the nest of torn-up + paper. Today happiness had strangely come this gay-hearted freebooter's + way, and he might have reached out, and seized it, and have kept it for + his own. But in the hour of his opportunity he had refused it—because + he was an outlaw—because strong within him was a peculiar code of + honor all his own. There was nothing of man-made religion in the soul of + Roger McKay. Nature was his god; its manifestations, its life, and the air + it gave him to breathe were the pages which made up the Book that guided + him. And within the last hour, since the sun had begun to drop behind the + tips of the tallest trees, these things had told him that he was a fool + for turning away from the one great thing in all life—simply because + his own humors of existence had made him an outcast and hunted by the laws + of men. So the change had come, and for a space his soul was filled with + the thrill of song and laughter. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour ago he believed that he had definitely made up his mind. He + had forced himself into forgetfulness of laws he had broken, and the + scarlet-coated men who were ever on the watch for his trail. They would + never seek him here, in the wilderness country close to the edge of + civilization, and time, he had told himself in that moment of optimism, + would blot out both his identity and his danger. Tomorrow he would go over + to Cragg's Ridge again, and then— + </p> + <p> + His mind was crowded with a vision of blue eyes, of brown curls glowing in + the pale sun, of a wistful, wide-eyed little face turned up to him, and + red lips that said falteringly, “I don't think it's wrong for you to kiss + me—if you want to, Mister Jolly Roger!” + </p> + <p> + Boldly he had talked about it to the bright-eyed little mother-mouse who + peered at him now and then over the edge of her box. + </p> + <p> + “You're a little devil of iniquity yourself,” he told her. “You're a + regular Mrs. Captain Kidd, and you've eaten my cheese, and chawed my + snowshoe laces, and robbed me of a sock to make your nest. I ought to + catch you in a trap, or blow your head off. But I don't. I let you live—and + have a fam'ly. And it's you who have given me the Big Idea, Mrs. Captain + Kidd. You sure have! You've told me I've got a right to have a nest of my + own, and I'm going to have it—an' in that nest is going to be the + sweetest, prettiest little angel that God Almighty ever forgot to make + into a flower! Yessir. And if the law comes—” + </p> + <p> + And then, suddenly, the vision clouded, and there came into Jolly Roger's + face the look of a man who knew—when he stood the truth out naked—that + he was facing a world with his back to the wall. + </p> + <p> + And now, as the sun went down, and his supper waited—that cloud + which came to blot out his picture grew deeper and more sinister, and the + chill of it entered his heart. He turned from his table to the open door, + and his fingers drew themselves slowly into clenched fists, and he looked + out quietly and steadily into his world. The darkening depths of the + forest reached out before his eyes, mottled and painted in the fading + glory of the sun. It was his world, his everything—father, mother, + God. In it he was born, and in it he knew that some day he would die. He + loved it, understood it, and night and day, in sunshine and storm, its + mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company. But it held no message + for him now. And his ears scarcely heard the raucous scolding of the + blue-jay in the fire-tipped crest of the tall black spruce. + </p> + <p> + And then that something which was bigger than desire came up within him, + and forced itself in words between his grimly set lips. + </p> + <p> + “She's only a—a kid,” he said, a fierce, low note of defiance in his + voice. “And I—I'm a damned pirate, and there's jails waiting for me, + and they'll get me sooner or later, sure as God lets me live!” + </p> + <p> + He turned from the sun to his shadowing cabin, and for a moment a ghost of + a smile played in his face as he heard the little mother-mouse rustling + among her papers. + </p> + <p> + “We can't do it,” he said. “We simply can't do it, Mrs. Captain Kidd. + She's had hell enough without me taking her into another. And it'd be + that, sooner or later. It sure would, Mrs. Captain Kidd. But I'm glad, + mighty glad, to think she'd let me kiss her—if I wanted to. Think of + that, Mrs. Captain Kidd!—if I wanted to. Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + And the humor of it crept in alongside the tragedy in Jolly Roger's heart, + and he chuckled as he bent over his partridge breasts. + </p> + <p> + “If I wanted to,” he repeated. “Why, if I had a life to give, I'd give it—to + kiss her just once! But, as it happens, Mrs. Captain Kidd—” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's breath cut itself suddenly short, and for an instant he grew + tense as he bent over the stove. His philosophy had taught him one thing + above all others, that he was a survival of the fittest—only so long + as he survived. And he was always guarding against the end. His brain was + keen, his ears quick, and every fibre in him trained to its duty of + watchfulness. And he knew, without turning his head, that someone was + standing in the doorway behind him. There had come a faint noise, a + shadowing of the fading sun-glow on the wall, the electrical disturbance + of another presence, gazing at him quietly, without motion, and without + sound. After that first telegraphic shock of warning he stabbed his fork + into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled loudly—and then + with a lightning movement was facing the door, his forty-four Colt leveled + waist-high at the intruder. + </p> + <p> + Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be—” + </p> + <p> + He stared. And the face in the doorway stared back at him. + </p> + <p> + “Nada!” he gasped. “Good Lord, I thought—I thought—” He + swallowed as he tried to lie. “I thought—it might be a bear!” + </p> + <p> + He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little figure of + Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet. Her blue eyes were + shining at him, wide and startled. Her cheeks were flushed. A strange look + had frozen on her parted red lips, and her hair was falling loose in a + cloud of curling brown tresses about her shoulders. Jolly Roger, dreaming + of her in his insane happiness of a few minutes ago, sensed nothing beyond + the beauty and the unexpectedness of her in this first moment. Then—swiftly—he + saw the other thing. The last glow of the sun glistened in her wet hair, + her dress was sodden and clinging, and little pools of water were widening + slowly about her ragged shoes. These things he might have expected, for + she had to cross the creek. But it was the look in her eyes that startled + him, as she stood there with Peter, the mongrel pup, clasped tightly in + her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Nada, what's happened?” he asked, laying his gun on the table. “You fell + in the creek—” + </p> + <p> + “It—it's Peter,” she cried, with a sobbing break in her voice. “We + come on Jed Hawkins when he was diggin' up some of his whiskey, and he was + mad, and pulled my hair, and Peter bit him—and then he picked up + Peter and threw him against a rock—and he's terribly hurt! Oh, + Mister Jolly Roger—” + </p> + <p> + She held out the pup to him, and Peter whimpered as Jolly Roger took his + wiry little face between his hands, and then lifted him gently. The girl + was sobbing, with passionate little catches in her breath, but there were + no tears in her eyes as they turned for an instant from Peter to the gun + on the table. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd had that,” she cried, “I'd hev killed him!” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's face was coldly gray as he knelt down on the floor and bent + over Peter. + </p> + <p> + “He—pulled your hair, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I—forgot,” she whispered, close at his shoulder. “I wasn't goin' to + tell you that. But it didn't hurt. It was Peter—” + </p> + <p> + He felt the damp caress of her curls upon his neck as she bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me, Mister Jolly Roger—is he hurt—bad?” + </p> + <p> + With the tenderness of a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over Peter's + scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt the infinite + consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid of Jed Hawkins, or of + pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its measurement of + blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie here, broken and + in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over him and Jolly Roger's + hands working to mend his hurt. He whimpered when Jolly Roger found the + broken place, and he cried out like a little child when there came the + sudden quick snapping of a bone—but even then he turned his head so + that he could thrust out his hot tongue against the back of his + man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he worked, was giving instructions + to the girl, who was quick as a bird to bring him cloth which she tore + into bandages, so that at the end of ten minutes Peter's right hind leg + was trussed up so tightly that it was as stiff and as useless as a piece + of wood. + </p> + <p> + “His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken,” said Jolly Roger when he + had finished. “He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will be on + his feet again.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his + bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he turned + to Nada. + </p> + <p> + She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. And + Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had given his + storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that day. They were blue, + so blue that he had never seen violets like them—and he knew that in + her heart there was no guile behind which she could hide the secret they + were betraying. A yearning such as had never before come into his life + urged him to open his arms to her, and he knew that she would have come + into them; but a still mightier will held them tense and throbbing at his + side. Her cheeks were aflame as she looked at him, and he told himself + that God could not have made a lovelier thing, as she stood there in her + worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light of glory in her face, and + her damp hair waving and curling about her in the last light of the day. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger,” she whispered, a great pride and + faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. “I knew it!” + </p> + <p> + Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began + spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he said, with + his back toward her, + </p> + <p> + “You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat—and then I'll go + home with you, as far as the Ridge.” + </p> + <p> + Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and comfortable in + Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face on his fore-paws his + bright eyes followed every movement of these two who so completely made up + his world. He heard that sweet little laugh which came only now and then + from Nada's lips, when for a moment she was happy; he saw her shake out + her hair in the glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted, and he + observed Jolly Roger standing at the stove—looking at her as she did + it—a worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes turned + toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to nothing of + definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed happiness, for—somehow—there + was always that feeling when they were with Jolly Roger, no matter whether + the sun was shining or the day was dark and filled with gloom. Many times + in his short life he had seen grief and tears in Nada's face, and had seen + her cringe and hide herself at the vile cursing and witch-like voice of + the man and woman back in the other cabin. But there was nothing like that + in Jolly Roger's company. He had two eyes, and he was not always cursing, + and he did not pull Nada's hair—and Peter loved him from the bottom + of his soul. And he knew that his mistress loved him, for she had told him + so, and there was always a different look in her eyes when she was with + Jolly Roger, and it was only then that she laughed in that glad little way—as + she was laughing now. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, her face + flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring his coffee. And + then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the nicest of the partridge + breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes calm and quiet as he looked at + the adorable sweetness of her across the table from him. To Nada there was + nothing of shame in what lay behind the happiness in the violet radiance + of her eyes. Jolly Roger had brought to her the only happiness that had + ever come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed Hawkins and his + witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought of this stranger who + for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's cabin. And, like Peter, + she loved him. The innocence of it lay naked in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Nada,” said Jolly Roger. “You're seventeen—” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' on eighteen,” she corrected quickly. “I was seventeen two weeks + ago!” + </p> + <p> + The quick, undefined little note of eagerness in her voice made his heart + thump. He nodded, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, going on eighteen,” he said. “And pretty soon some young fellow will + come along, and see you, and marry you—” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + It was a little, strange cry that came to her lips, and Jolly Roger saw a + quick throbbing in her bare throat, and her eyes were so wide-open and + startled as she looked at him that he felt, for a moment, as if the + resolution in his soul was giving way. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you goin', Mister Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere—not for a time, at least. But you—you'll + surely be going away with some one—some day.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” she denied hotly. “I hate men! I hate all but you, Mister Jolly + Roger. And if you go away—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I go away— + </p> + <p> + “I'll kill Jed Hawkins!” + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily she reached out a slim hand to the big gun on the corner of + the table. + </p> + <p> + “I'll kill 'im, if you go away,” she threatened again, “He's broken his + wife, and crippled her, and if it wasn't for her I'd have gone long ago. + But I've promised, and I'm goin' to stay—until something happens. + And if you go—now—” + </p> + <p> + At the choking throb in her throat and the sudden quiver that came to her + lips, Jolly Roger jumped up for the coffee pot, though his cup was still + half full. + </p> + <p> + “I won't go, Nada,” he cried, trying to laugh. “I promise—cross my + heart and hope to die! I won't go—until you tell me I can.” + </p> + <p> + And then, feeling that something had almost gone wrong for a moment, Peter + yipped from his nest in the bunk, and the gladness in Nada's eyes thanked + Jolly Roger for his promise when he came back with the coffee pot. + Standing behind her, he made pretense of refilling her cup, though she had + scarcely touched it, and all the time his eyes were looking at her + beautiful head, and he saw again the dampness in her hair. + </p> + <p> + “What happened in the creek, Nada?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She told him, and at the mention of his name Peter drew his bristling + little head erect, and waited expectantly. He could see Jolly Roger's + face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a quick smile flashing + over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly Roger leaned a little toward + her in the lampglow, and said, + </p> + <p> + “You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever hits you + again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it—will you tell + me?” Nada hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't—I'll take back my promise, and won't stay,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Then—I'll promise,” she said. “If he does it, I'll tell you. But I + ain't—I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins will + sure kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep him here? + And—o-o-o-h!—if I could only stay, too—” + </p> + <p> + The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant a flood + of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger turned again to + the stove, and made as if he had not seen the blush or heard her last + words, so that the shame of her embarrassment was gone as quickly as it + had come. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll keep Peter,” he said over his shoulder. And in his heart + another voice which she could not hear, was crying, “And I'd give my life + if I could keep you!” + </p> + <p> + Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger and Nada + out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half an hour later. It + was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed only the mosquito-screen, + leaving the door wide open, and Peter could hear their footsteps + disappearing slowly into the deep gloom of the forest. It was a little + before moonrise, and under the spruce and cedar and thick balsam the world + was like a black pit. It was very still, and except for the soft tread of + their own feet and the musical ripple of water in the creek there was + scarcely a sound in this first hour of the night. In Jolly Roger there + rose something of exultation, for Nada's warm little hand lay in his as he + guided her through the darkness, and her fingers had clasped themselves + tightly round his thumb. She was very close to him when he paused to make + sure of the unseen trail, so close that her cheek rested against his arm, + and—bending a little—his lips touched the soft ripples of her + hair. But he could not see her in the gloom, and his heart pounded + fiercely all the way to the ford. + </p> + <p> + Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like Jolly + Roger. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of losing him + there in the blackness that lay about them like a great ink-blotch. And + she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all the power in his soul + fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from putting his arms about her slim + little body and crying out the worship that was in him. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't—I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet,” he heard her whisper + then. “You're so big and strong, Mister Roger—” + </p> + <p> + Gently he freed his thumb from her fingers, and picked her up, and held + her high, so that she was against his breast and above the deepest of the + water. Lightly at first Nada's arms lay about his shoulders, but as the + flood began to rush higher and she felt him straining against it,—her + arms tightened, until the clasp of them was warm and thrilling round Jolly + Roger's neck. She gave a big gasp of relief when he stood her safely down + upon her feet on the other side. And then again she reached out, and found + his hand, and twined her fingers about his big thumb—and Jolly Roger + went on with her over the plain toward Cragg's Ridge, dripping wet, just + as the rim of the moon began to rise over the edge of the eastern forests. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + It seemed an interminable wait to Peter, back in the cabin. Jolly Roger + had put out the light, and when the moon came up the glow of it did not + come into the dark room where Peter lay, for the open door was to the + west, and curtains were drawn closely at both windows. But through the + door he could see the first mellowing of the night, and after that the + swift coming of a soft, golden radiance which swallowed all darkness and + filled his world with the ghostly shadows which seemed alive, yet never + made a sound. It was a big, splendid moon this night, and Peter loved the + moon, though he had seen it only a few times in his three months of life. + It fascinated him more than the sun, for it was always light when the sun + came, and he had never seen the sun eat up darkness, as the moon did. Its + mystery awed him, but did not frighten. He could not quite understand the + strange, still shadows which were always unreal when he nosed into them, + and it puzzled him why the birds did not fly about in the moon glow, and + sing as they did in the day-time. And something deep in him, many + generations older than himself, made his blood run faster when this thing + that ate up darkness came creeping through the sky, and he was filled with + a yearning to adventure out into the strange glow of it, quietly and + stealthily, watching and listening for things he had never seen or heard. + </p> + <p> + In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon the open + door, and for a long time he listened only for the returning footsteps of + Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts to drag himself to the edge of + the bunk, but the movement sent such a cutting pain through him that he + did not make a third. And outside, after a time, he heard the Night People + rousing themselves. They were very cautious, these Night People, for + unlike the creatures of the dawn, waking to greet the sun with song and + happiness, most of them were sharp-fanged and long-clawed-rovers and + pirates of the great wilderness, ready to kill. And this, too, Peter + sensed through the generations of northland dog that was in him. He heard + a wolf howl, coming faintly through the night from miles away, and + something told him it was not a dog. From nearer came the call of a moose, + and that same sense told him he had heard a monster bear which his eyes + had never seen. He did not know of the soft-footed, night-eyed creatures + of prey—the fox, the lynx, the fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine, + nor of the round-eyed, feathered murderers in the tree-tops—yet that + same something told him they were out there among the shadows, under the + luring glow of the moon. And a thing happened, all at once, to stab the + truth home to him. A baby snowshoe rabbit, a third grown, hopped out into + the open close to the cabin door, and as it nibbled at the green grass, a + gray catapult of claw and feathers shot out of the air, and Peter heard + the crying agony of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into the thick + spruce tops. Even then—unafraid—Peter wanted to go out into + the moon glow! + </p> + <p> + At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and Jolly Roger + came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and stopped in front of + the door. There he stood, making no sound, and looking into the west, + where the sky was ablaze with stars over the tree-tops. There was a glad + little yip in Peter's throat, but he choked it back. Jolly Roger was + strangely quiet, and Peter could not hear Nada, and as he sniffed, and + gulped the lump in his throat, he seemed to catch the breath of something + impending in the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and sat down in darkness + near the table, and for a long time Peter kept his eyes fixed on the + shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and listened to his breathing, + until he could stand it no longer, and whined. + </p> + <p> + The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match—and then + blew the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and stroked him + with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” he said in a low voice, “I guess we've got a job on our hands. + You began it today—and I've got to finish it. We're goin' to kill + Jed Hawkins!” + </p> + <p> + Peter snuggled closer. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me,” Jolly Roger went on + in the darkness, “but until tonight I never made up my mind to kill a man. + I'm ready—now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again we're goin' to kill + him! Understand, Pied-Bot?” + </p> + <p> + He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a nest for + Peter on the floor, and stretched himself out in the bunk; and after that, + for a long time, there seemed to be something heavier than the gloom of + night in the cabin for Peter, and he listened and waited and prayed in his + dog way for Nada's return, and wondered why it was that she left him so + long. And the Night People held high carnival under the yellow moon, and + there was flight and terror and slaughter in the glow of it—and + Jolly Roger slept, and the wolf howled nearer, and the creek chortled its + incessant song of running water, and in the end Peter's eyes closed, and a + red-eyed ermine peeped over the sill into the man-and dog-scented + stillness of the outlaw's cabin. + </p> + <p> + For many days after this first night in the cabin, Peter did not see Nada. + There was more rain, and the creek flooded higher, so that each time Jolly + Roger went over to Cragg's Ridge he took his life in his hands in fording + the stream. Peter saw no one but Jolly Roger, and at the end of the second + week he was going about on his mended leg. But there would always be a + limp in his gait, and always his right hind-foot would leave a peculiar + mark in the trail. + </p> + <p> + These two weeks of helplessness were an education in Peter's life and were + destined to leave their mark upon him always. He learned to know Jolly + Roger, not alone from seeing events, but through an intuitive instinct + that grew swiftly somewhere in his shrewd head. This instinct, given + widest scope in these weeks of helplessness, developed faster than any + other in him, until in the end, he could judge Jolly Roger's humor by the + sound of his approaching footsteps. Never was there a waking hour in which + he was not fighting to comprehend the mystery of the change that had come + over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and each day that passed put + her farther away from him, yet he also sensed the fact that Jolly Roger + went to her, and when the outlaw returned to the cabin Peter was filled + with a yearning hope that Nada was returning with him. + </p> + <p> + But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about Jolly + Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man which was + greater than all other things in his world. And in these days Jolly Roger + found in Peter's comradeship and growing understanding a comforting outlet + for the things which at times consumed him. Peter saw it all—hours + when Jolly Roger's voice and laughter filled the cabin with cheer and + happiness, and others when his face was set in grim lines, with that hard, + far-away look in his eyes that Peter could never quite make out. It was at + such times, when Jolly Roger held a choking grip on the love in his heart, + that he told Peter things which he had never revealed to a human soul. + </p> + <p> + In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the creek, + he said to Peter, + </p> + <p> + “We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up—and go tonight. Because—sometimes + I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for her. I'd die for her. I'd + give up the whole world, and live in a prison cell—if I could have + her with me. And that's dangerous, Peter, because we can't have her. It's + impossible, boy. She doesn't guess why I'm here. She doesn't know I've + been outlawin' it for years, and that I'm hiding here because the Police + would never think of looking for Jolly Roger McKay this close to + civilization. If I told her, she would think I was worse than Jed Hawkins, + and she wouldn't believe me if I told her I've outlawed with my wits + instead of a gun, and that I've never criminally hurt a person in my life. + No, she wouldn't believe that, Peter. And she—she cares for me, + Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And she's got faith in me, and would go + with me to the Missioner's tomorrow. I know it. I can see it, feel it, and + I—” + </p> + <p> + His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” he whispered in the thickening darkness. “I believe there's a + God, but He's a different sort of God than most people believe in. He + lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in the birds, the sky, in + everything—and I hope that God will strike me dead if I do what + isn't right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he strikes me dead!” + </p> + <p> + And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly in his + bunk, and slept but little. + </p> + <p> + But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding over the + wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he cooked their + breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling thing about this man. + With gloom and oppression fastened upon him he would rise up suddenly, and + start whistling or singing, and once he said to Peter, + </p> + <p> + “I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, no + matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see it. A laugh + never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By that time + he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the fording-place, and there + he would wait, sometimes hours at a stretch, while his comrade and master + went over to Cragg's Ridge. But frequently Jolly Roger would not cross, + but remained with Peter, and would lie on his back at the edge of a grassy + knoll they had found, reading one of the little old-fashioned red books + which Peter knew were very precious to him. Often he wondered what was + between the faded red covers that was so interesting, and if he could have + read he would have seen such titles as “Margaret of Anjou,” “History of + Napoleon,” “History of Peter the Great,” “Caesar,” “Columbus the + Discoverer,” and so on through the twenty volumes which Jolly Roger had + taken from a wilderness mail two years before, and which he now prized + next to his life. + </p> + <p> + This afternoon, as they lay in the sleepy quiet of June, Jolly Roger + answered the questioning inquisitiveness in Peter's face and eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Pied-Bot, it was this way,” he said, beginning a little + apologetically. “I was dying for something to read, and I figgered there'd + be something on the Mail—newspapers, you know. So I stopped it, and + tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I didn't take anything + else—that time. There's twenty of them, and they weigh nine pounds, + and in the last two years I've toted them five thousand miles. I wouldn't + trade them for my weight in gold, and I'm pretty heavy. I named you after + one of them—Peter. I pretty near called you Christopher Columbus. + And some day we've got to take these books to the man they were going to, + Peter. I've promised myself that. It seems sort of like stealing the soul + out of someone. I just borrowed them, that's all. And I've kept the + address of the owner, away up on the edge of the Barrens. Some day we're + going to make a special trip to take the books home.” + </p> + <p> + Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and following + the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada standing quietly on + the opposite side of the stream, looking at them. In a moment Peter knew + her, and he was trembling in every muscle when Jolly Roger caught him up + under his arm, and with a happy laugh plunged through the creek with him. + For a good five minutes after that Jolly Roger stood aside watching Peter + and Nada, and there was a glisten of dampness in his eyes when he saw the + wet on Nada's cheeks, and the whimpering joy of Peter as he caressed her + face and hands. Three weeks had been a long time to Peter, but he could + see no difference in the little mistress he worshipped. There were still + the radiant curls to hide his nose in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, + the warm thrill of her body as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know + that she had new shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had + gone from her red lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could + no longer hide the old haunted look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + But Jolly Roger saw the look, and the growing pallor, and had noted them + for two weeks past. And later that afternoon, when Nada returned to + Cragg's Ridge, and he re-crossed the stream with Peter, there was a hard + and terrible look in his eyes which Peter had caught there more and more + frequently of late. And that evening, in the twilight of their cabin, + Jolly Roger said, + </p> + <p> + “It's coming soon, Peter. I'm expecting it. Something is happening which + she won't tell us about. She is afraid for me. I know it. But I'm going to + find out—soon. And then, Pied-Bot, I think we'll probably kill Jed + Hawkins, and hit for the North.” + </p> + <p> + The gloom of foreboding that was in Jolly Roger's voice and words seemed + to settle over the cabin for many days after that, and more than ever + Peter sensed the thrill and warning of that mysterious something which was + impending. He was developing swiftly, in flesh and bone and instinct, and + there began to possess him now the beginning of that subtle caution and + shrewdness which were to mean so much to him later on. An instinct greater + than reason, if it was not reason itself, told him that his master was + constantly watching for something which did not come. And that same + instinct, or reason, impinged upon him the fact that it was a thing to be + guarded against. He did not go blindly into the mystery of things now. He + circumvented them, and came up from behind. Craft and cunning replaced + mere curiosity and puppyish egoism. He was quick to learn, and Jolly + Roger's word became his law, so that only once or twice was he told a + thing, and it became a part of his understanding. While the keen, shrewd + brain of his Airedale father developed inside Peter's head, the flesh and + blood development of his big, gentle, soft-footed Mackenzie hound mother + kept pace in his body. His legs and feet began to lose their + grotesqueness. Flesh began to cover the knots in his tail. His head, + bristling fiercely with wiry whiskers, seemed to pause for a space to give + his lanky body a chance to catch up with it. And in spite of his big feet, + so clumsy that a few weeks ago they had stumbled over everything in his + way, he could now travel without making a sound. + </p> + <p> + So it came to pass, after a time, that when Peter heard footsteps + approaching the cabin he made no effort to reveal himself until he knew it + was Jolly Roger who was coming. And this was strangely in spite of the + fact that in the five weeks since Nada had brought him from Cragg's Ridge + no one but Jolly Roger and Nada had set foot within sight of the shack. It + was an inborn caution, growing stronger in him each day. There came one + early evening when Peter made a discovery. He had returned with Jolly + Roger from a fishing trip farther down the creek, and scarcely had he set + nose to the little clearing about the cabin when he caught the presence of + a strange scent. He investigated it swiftly, and found it all about the + cabin, and very strong close up against the cabin door. There were no + doubts in Peter's mind. A man had been there, and this man had gone around + and around the cabin, and had opened the door, and had even gone inside, + for Peter found the scent of him on the floor. He tried, in a way, to tell + Jolly Roger. He bristled, and whined, and looked searchingly into the + darkening edge of the forest. Jolly Roger quested with him for a few + moments, and when he failed to find marks in the ground he began cleaning + a fish for supper, and said. + </p> + <p> + “Probably a wolverine, Pied-Bot. The rascal came to see what he could find + while we were away.” + </p> + <p> + But Peter was not satisfied. He was restless all that night. Sounds which + had been familiar now held a new significance for him. The next day he was + filled with a quiet but brooding expectancy. He resented the intrustion of + the strange footprints. It was, in his process of instinctive reasoning, + an encroachment upon the property rights of his master, and he was—true + to the law of his species—the guardian of those rights. + </p> + <p> + The fourth evening after the stranger's visit to the cabin Jolly Roger was + later than usual in returning from Cragg's Ridge. Peter had been on a + hunting adventure of his own, and came to the cabin at sunset. But he + never came out of cover now without standing quietly for a few moments, + getting the wind, and listening. And tonight, poking his head between some + balsams twenty yards from the shack, he was treated to a sudden thrill. + The cabin door was open. And standing close to this door, looking quietly + and cautiously about, stood a stranger. He was not like Jed Hawkins, was + Peter's first impression. He was tall, with a wide-brimmed hat, and wore + boots with striped trousers tucked into them, and on his coat were bits of + metal which caught the last gleams of the sun. Peter knew nothing of the + Royal Northwest Mounted Police. But he sensed danger, and he remained very + quiet, without moving a muscle of his head or body, while the stranger + looked about, with a hand on his unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he + entered the cabin, and closed the door after him, did Peter move back into + the deeper gloom of the forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked + through cover to the foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, across + which Jolly Roger would come from Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. Peter + did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. He remained + sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears flattened, and in his + whole attitude no sign of gladness at his master's coming. With every + instinct of caution developed to the highest degree within him, Jolly + Roger was lightning quick to observe the significance of small things. He + spoke to Peter, caressed him with his hand, and moved on along the + foot-trail toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him moodily, and after a + few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches again. Jolly Roger was + puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Peter?” he asked. “Are you afraid of that wolverine—” + </p> + <p> + Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, and his + eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail beyond the + outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he disappeared around a + twist in the path. There he stopped, and peered back. Peter was not + following him, but still sat where he had left him. A quicker breath came + to Jolly Roger's lips, and he went back to Peter. For fully a minute he + stood beside him, watching and listening, and not once did the reddish + glare in Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. Jolly Roger's eyes + had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on his knees beside Peter, + and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear. + </p> + <p> + “You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying to tell + me?” + </p> + <p> + Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes from ahead. + </p> + <p> + There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his feet, and + he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the forest, and in the + gloom that was gathering there his hand carried the big automatic. Peter + followed him now, and Jolly Roger swung in a wide circle, so that they + came up on that forest side of the cabin where there was no window. And + here Jolly Roger knelt down beside Peter again, and whispered to him. + </p> + <p> + “You stay here, Pied-Bot. Understand? You stay here.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed him down gently with his hand, so that Peter understood. Then, + slinking low, and swift as a cat, Jolly Roger ran to the end of the cabin + where there was no window. With his head close to the ground he peered out + cautiously at the door. It was closed. Then he looked at the windows. To + the west the curtains were up, as he had left them. And to the east— + </p> + <p> + A whimsical smile played at the corners of his mouth. Those curtains he + had kept tightly drawn. One of them was down now. But the other was raised + two inches, so that one hidden within the cabin could watch the approach + from the trail! + </p> + <p> + He drew back, and under his breath he chuckled. He recognized the sheer + nerve of the thing, the clever handiwork of it. Someone was inside the + cabin, and he was ready to stake his life it was Cassidy, the Irish + bloodhound of “M” Division. If anyone ferreted him out way down here on + the edge of civilization he had gambled with himself that it would be + Cassidy. And Cassidy had come—Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to + his trails for three years, who had chased him across the Barren Lands, + who had followed him up the Mackenzie, and back again—who had fought + with him, and starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought + him to prison. Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy. They had + played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that game had + become the life's ambition of each. And now Cassidy was in there, + confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for him to step into + the trap. + </p> + <p> + To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a + deep-seated humor in the situation. Three times in the last year and a + half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him floundering in the + cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had placed for his victim. This + was the fourth time. And Cassidy would be tremendously upset! + </p> + <p> + Praying that Peter would remain quiet, Jolly Roger took off his shoes. + After that he made no more sound than a ferret as he crept to the door. An + inch at a time he raised himself, until he was standing up, with his ear + half an inch from the crack that ran lengthwise of the frame. Holding his + breath, he listened. For an interminable time, it seemed to him, there was + no sound from within. He guessed what Cassidy was doing—peering + through that slit of window under the curtain. But he was not absolutely + sure. And he knew the necessity of making no error, with Cassidy in there, + gripping the butt of his gun. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet distinct, + were moving from the window toward the door. Half way they paused, and + turned to one of the windows looking westward. But it was evident the + watcher was not expecting his game from that direction, for after a + moment's silence he returned to the window through which he could see the + trail. This time Jolly Roger was sure. Cassidy was again peering through + the window, with his back toward him, and every muscle in the forest + rover's body gathered for instant action. In another moment he had flung + open the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to find himself + looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun. + </p> + <p> + For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly Roger's, Peter + lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly popping from his head + in his eagerness to see what was happening. He heard voices, and then the + wild thrill of Jolly Roger's laughter, and restraining himself no longer + he trotted cautiously to the open door of the cabin. In a chair sat the + stranger with the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, with his hands + securely tied behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling about, filling a + shoulder-pack in the last light of the day. + </p> + <p> + “Cassidy, I oughta kill you,” Jolly Roger was saying as he worked, an + exultant chuckle in his voice. “You don't give me any peace. No matter + where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I ever invited + you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant flowers over you, now that + I've got the chance. But I'm too chicken-hearted. Besides, I like you. By + the time you get tired of chasing me you should be a pretty good + man-hunter. But just now you lack finesse, Cassidy—you lack + finesse.” And Jolly Roger's chuckle broke into another laugh. + </p> + <p> + Cassidy heaved out a grunt. + </p> + <p> + “It's luck—just damned luck!” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “If it is, I hope it keeps up,” said Jolly Roger. “Now, look here, + Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it. If you don't get me next time—if + you fail, and I turn the trick on you once more—will you quit?” + </p> + <p> + Cassidy's eyes gleamed in the thickening dusk. + </p> + <p> + “If I don't get you next time—I'll hand in my resignation!” + </p> + <p> + The laughter went out of Jolly Roger's voice. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, Cassidy. You've played square—always. And now—if + I free your hands—will you swear to give me a two hours' start + before you leave this cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you the start,” said Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + His lean face was growing indistinct in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger came up behind him. There was the slash of a knife. Then he + picked up his shoulder-pack. At the door he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Look at your watch when I'm gone, Cassidy, and be sure you make it a full + two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make it two hours and five minutes,” said Cassidy. “Hittin' north + are you, Jolly Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm hittin'—bushward,” replied the outlaw. “I'm going where it's + plenty thick and hard to travel, Cassidy. Goodby—” + </p> + <p> + He was gone. He hit straight north, making noise as he went, but once in + the timber he swung southward, and plunged through the creek with Peter + under his arm. Not until they had traveled a good half mile over the plain + did Jolly Roger speak. Then he said, speaking directly at Peter, + </p> + <p> + “Cassidy thinks I'll sure hit for the North country again, Pied-Bot. But + we're foolin' him. I've sort of planned on something like this happening, + and right now we're hittin' for the tail-end of Cragg's Ridge where + there's a mess of rock that the devil himself can hardly get into. We've + got to do it, boy. We can't leave the girl—just now. We can't leave—her—” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's voice choked. Then he paused for a moment, and bent over to + put his hand on Peter. + </p> + <p> + “If it hadn't been for you, Peter—Cassidy would have got me—sure. + And I'm wondering, Peter—I'm wondering—why did God forget to + give a dog speech?” + </p> + <p> + Peter whined in answer, and through the darkness of the night they went on + together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away as + Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and Cragg's + Ridge. + </p> + <p> + They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew the + red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise—he would wait the + full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five minutes after that. + In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed, exultation at his achievement died + away, and there filled him again the old loneliness—the loneliness + which called out against the fate which had made of Cassidy an enemy + instead of a friend. And yet—what an enemy! + </p> + <p> + He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us down,” he + protested. “Someone we could have hated, and who would have hated us! Why + did they send Cassidy—the fairest and squarest man that ever wore + red? We can't do him a dirty turn—we can't hurt him, Pied-Bot, even + at the worst. And if ever he takes us in to Headquarters, and looks at us + through the bars, I feel it's going to be like a knife in his heart. But + he'll do it, Peter, if he can. It's his job. And he's honest. We've got to + say that of Cassidy.” + </p> + <p> + The Ridge loomed up at the edge of the level plain, and for a few moments + Jolly Roger paused, while he looked off through the eastward gloom. A mile + in that direction, beyond the cleft that ran like a great furrow through + the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, still and dark under the faint glow of + the stars. And in that cabin was Nada. He felt that she was sitting at her + little window, looking out into the night, thinking of him—and a + great desire gripped at his heart, tugging him in its direction. But he + turned toward the west. + </p> + <p> + “We can't let her know what has happened, boy,” he said, feeling the urge + of caution. “For a little while we must let her think we have left the + country. If Cassidy sees her, and talks with her, something in those + blue-flower eyes of hers might give us away if she knew we were hiding up + among the rocks of the Stew-Kettle. But I'm hopin' God A'mighty won't let + her see Cassidy. And I'm thinking He won't, Pied-Bot, because I've a + pretty good hunch He wants us to settle with Jed Hawkins before we go.” + </p> + <p> + It was a habit of his years of aloneness, this talking to a creature that + could make no answer. But even in the darkness he sensed the understanding + of Peter. + </p> + <p> + Rocks grew thicker and heavier under their feet, and they went more + slowly, and occasionally stumbled in the gloom. But, after a fashion, they + knew their way even in darkness. More than once Peter had wondered why his + master had so carefully explored this useless mass of upheaved rock at the + end of Cragg's Ridge. They had never seen an animal or a blade of grass in + all its gray, sun-blasted sterility. It was like a hostile thing, overhung + with a half-dead, slow-beating something that was like the dying pulse of + an evil thing. And now darkness added to its mystery and its + unfriendliness as Peter nosed close at his master's heels. Up and up they + picked their way, over and between ragged upheavals of rock, twisting into + this broken path and that, feeling their way, partly sensing it, and + always ascending toward the stars. Roger McKay did not speak again to + Peter. Each time he came out where the sky was clear he looked toward the + solitary dark pinnacle, far up and ahead, strangely resembling a giant + tombstone in the star-glow, that was their guide. And after many minutes + of strange climbing, in which it seemed to Jolly Roger the nail-heads in + the soles of his boots made weirdly loud noises on the rocks, they came + near to the top. + </p> + <p> + There they stopped, and in a deeply shadowed place where there was a + carpet of soft sand, with walls of rock close on either side, Jolly Roger + spread out his blankets. Then he went out from the black shadow, so that a + million stars seemed not far away over their heads. Here he sat down, and + began to smoke, thinking of what tomorrow would hold for him, and of the + many days destined to follow that tomorrow. Nowhere in the world was there + to be—for him—the peace of an absolute certainty. Not until he + felt the cold steel of iron bars with his two hands, and the fatal game + had been played to the end. + </p> + <p> + There was no corrosive bitterness of the vengeful in Jolly Roger's heart. + For that reason even his enemies, the Police, had fallen into the habit of + using the nickname which the wilderness people had given him. He did not + hate these police. Curiously, he loved them. Their type was to him the + living flesh and blood of the finest manhood since the Crusaders. And he + did not hate the law. At times the Law, as personified in all of its + unswerving majesty, amused him. It was so terribly serious over such + trivial things—like himself, for instance. It could not seem to + sleep or rest until a man was hanged, or snugly put behind hard steel, no + matter how well that man loved his human-kind—and the world. And + Jolly Roger loved both. In his heart he believed he had not committed a + crime by achieving justice where otherwise there would have been no + justice. Yet outwardly he cursed himself for a lawbreaker. And he loved + life. He loved the stars silently glowing down at him tonight. He loved + even the gray, lifeless rock, which recalled to his imaginative genius the + terrific and interesting life that had once existed—he loved the + ghostly majesty of the grave-like pinnacle that rose above him, and beyond + that he loved all the world. + </p> + <p> + But most of all, more than his own life or all that a thousand lives might + hold for him, he loved the violet-eyed girl who had come into his life + from the desolation and unhappiness of Jed Hawkins' cabin. + </p> + <p> + Forgetting the law, forgetting all but her, he went at last into the + dungeon-like gloom between the rocks, and after Peter had wallowed himself + a bed in the carpet of sand they fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + They awoke with the dawn. But for three days thereafter they went forth + only at night, and for three days did not show themselves above the + barricade of rocks. The Stew-Kettle was what Jolly Roger had called it, + and when the sun was straight above, or descending with the last half of + the day, the name fitted. + </p> + <p> + It was a hot place, so hot that at a distance its piled-up masses of white + rock seemed to simmer and broil in the blazing heat of the July sun. + Neither man nor beast would look into the heart of it, Jolly Roger had + assured Peter, unless the one was half-witted and the other a fool. + Looking at it from the meadowy green plain that lay between the Ridge and + the forest their temporary retreat was anything but a temptation to the + eye. Something had happened there a few thousand centuries before, and in + a moment of evident spleen and vexation the earth had vomited up that pile + of rock debris, and Jolly Roger good humoredly told himself and Peter that + it was an act of Providence especially intended for them, though planned + and erupted some years before they were born. + </p> + <p> + The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon action. + </p> + <p> + This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had seemed to + concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though it was now almost + sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence still hovered about it. The + huge masses of stone were like baked things to the touch of hand and foot, + and one breathed a smoldering air in between their gray and white walls. + </p> + <p> + Thus forbidding looked the Stew-Kettle, when viewed from the plain. But + from the top-most crag of the mass, which rose a hundred feet high at the + end of the Ridge, one might find his reward for a blistering climb. On all + sides, a paradise of green and yellow and gold, stretched the vast + wilderness, studded with shimmering lakes that gleamed here and there from + out of their rich dark frames of spruce and cedar and balsam. And half way + between the edge of the plain and this highest pinnacle of rock, utterly + hidden from the eyes of both man and beast, nestled the hiding place which + Jolly Roger and Peter had found. + </p> + <p> + It was a cool and cavernous spot, in spite of the Sahara-like heat of the + great pile. In the very heart of it two gigantic masses of rock had put + their shoulders together, like Gog and Magog, so that under their ten + thousand tons of weight was a crypt-like tunnel as high as a man's head, + into which the light and the glare of the sun never came. + </p> + <p> + Peter, now that he had grown accustomed to the deadness of it, liked this + change from Indian Tom's cabin. He liked his wallow of soft sand during + the day, and he liked still more the aloneness and the aloofness of their + ramparted stronghold when the cool of evening came. He did not, of course, + understand just what their escape from Cassidy had meant, but instinct was + shrewdly at work within him, and no wolf could have guarded the place more + carefully than he. And he had all creation in mind when he guarded the + rock-pile. + </p> + <p> + All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call for + her was in Jolly Roger's own heart. And on this third afternoon, as the + hot July sun dipped half way to the western forests, both Peter and his + master were looking yearningly, and with the same thought, toward the + east, where over the back-bone of Cragg's Ridge Jed Hawkins' cabin lay. + </p> + <p> + “We'll let her know tonight,” Roger McKay said at last, with something + very slow and deliberate in his voice. “We'll take the chance—and + let her know.” + </p> + <p> + Peter's bristling Airedale whiskers, standing out like a bunch of broom + splints about his face, quivered sympathetically, and he thumped his tail + in the sand. He was an artful hypocrite, was Peter, because he always + looked as if he understood, whether he did or not. And Jolly Roger, + staring at the gray rock-backs outside their tunnel door, went on. + </p> + <p> + “We must play square with her, Pied-Bot, and it's a crime worse than + murder not to let her know the truth. If she wasn't a kid, Peter! But + she's that—just a kid—the sweetest, purest thing God A'mighty + ever made, and it isn't fair to live this lie any longer, no matter how we + love her. And we do love her, Peter.” + </p> + <p> + Peter lay very quiet, watching the strange gray look that had settled in + Jolly Roger's face. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to tell her that I'm a damned highwayman,” he added, in a + moment. “And she won't understand, Peter. She can't. But I'm going to do + it. I'm going to tell her—today. And then—I think we'll be + hittin' north pretty soon, Pied-Bot. If it wasn't for Jed Hawkins—” + He rose up out of the sand, his hands clenched. + </p> + <p> + “We ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for her,” he + finished. + </p> + <p> + He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path until he + stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into the northern + wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand miles—was + home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay to the Rockies, from the + Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and in it he had lived the thrill of + life according to his own peculiar code. He knew that he had loved life as + few had ever loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon and the + stars. The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in spite of + its ceaseless peril for him. + </p> + <p> + But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood in the + blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a little while, and + because of it he had lived a lie. He had not told Jed Hawkins' foster-girl + that he was an outlaw, and that he had come to the edge of civilization + because he thought it was the last place the Royal Mounted would look for + him. When he went to her this evening it would probably be for the last + time. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her the police were after + him from one end of the Canadian northland to the other. And that same + night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for the Barren Lands, a thousand + miles away. He was sure of himself now—sure—even as the dark + wall of the forest across the plain faded out, and gave place to a pale, + girlish face with eyes blue as flowers, and brown curls filled with the + lustre of the sun—a face that had taken the place of mother, sister + and God deep down in his soul. Yes, he was sure of himself—even with + that face rising lo give battle to his last great test of honor. He was an + outlaw, and the police wanted him, but— + </p> + <p> + Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face. They + waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley McKay + led the way out of the rock-pile. + </p> + <p> + An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay between + the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light in the cabin, but + Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down under the warning pressure of + McKay's hand. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go on alone,” he said. “You stay here.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not hear + the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the glass of Nada's + darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to that signal-tapping, + heard nothing from within, except a monotone of voice that came from the + outer room. For half an hour he waited, repeating the signals at + intervals. At last a door opened, and Nada stood silhouetted against the + light of the room beyond. + </p> + <p> + McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly behind the + girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was raised a little from + the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “Mister—Roger—” she whispered. “Is it—YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. “It's me.” + </p> + <p> + The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the girl + was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up quietly in the + dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of Nada's voice at the + window. There was something in the note of it, and in the caution of Jolly + Roger's reply, that held him stiff and attentive, his ears wide-open for + approaching sound. For several minutes he stood thus, and then the + whispering voices at the window ceased and he heard his master retreating + very quietly through the night. When Jolly Roger spoke to him, back under + the broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that Peter had stood + near the window. + </p> + <p> + McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Something happened there tonight—something she wouldn't tell me + about,” he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself. “I could FEEL + it. I wish I could have seen her face.” + </p> + <p> + He set out over the plain; and then, as if remembering that he must + explain the matter to Peter, he said: + </p> + <p> + “She can't get out tonight, Pied-Bot, but she'll come to us in the + jackpines tomorrow afternoon. We'll have to wait.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to say the thing cheerfully, but between this night and tomorrow + afternoon seemed an interminable time, now that he was determined to make + a clean breast of his affairs to Nada, and leave the country. Most of that + night he walked in the coolness of the moonlit plain, and for a long time + he sat amid the flower-scented shadows of the trysting-place in the heart + of the jackpine clump, where Nada had a hidden place all her own. It was + here that Peter discovered something which Jolly Roger could not see in + the deep shadows, a bundle warm and soft and sweet with the presence of + Nada herself. It was hidden under a clump of young banksians, very + carefully hidden, and tucked about with grass and evergreen boughs. When + McKay left the jackpines he wondered why it was that Peter showed no + inclination to follow him until he was urged. + </p> + <p> + They did not return to the Stew-Kettle until dawn, and most of that day + Jolly Roger spent in sleep between the two big rocks. It was late + afternoon when they made their last meal. In this farewell hour McKay + climbed up close to the pinnacle, where he smoked his pipe and measured + the shadows of the declining sun until it was time to leave for the + jackpines. + </p> + <p> + Retracing his steps to the hiding place under Gog and Magog he looked for + Peter. But Peter's sand-wallow was empty, and Peter was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Peter was on his way to the mystery of the bundle he had found in the + jackpines. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the ridge, where the green plain fought with the blighting + edge of the Stew-Kettle, he stood for many minutes before he started + east-ward. With keen eyes gleaming behind his mop of scraggly + face-bristles he critically surveyed both land and air, and then, with the + slight limp in his gait which would always remain as a mark of Jed + Hawkins' brutality, he trotted deliberately in the direction of the + whiskey-runner's cabin home. + </p> + <p> + A bitter memory of Jed Hawkins flattened his ears when he came near the + rock-cluttered coulee in which he had fought for Nada, and had suffered + his broken bones, and today—even as he obeyed the instinctive + caution to stop and listen—Jed Hawkins himself came out of the mouth + of the coulee, bearing a brown jug in one hand and a thick cudgel in the + other. His one wicked eye gleamed in the waning sun. His lean and scraggly + face was alight with a sinister exultation as he paused for a moment close + to the rock behind which Peter was hidden, and Peter's fangs lay bare and + his body trembled while the man stood there. Then he moved on, and Peter + did not stir, but waited until the jug and the cudgel and the man were out + of sight. + </p> + <p> + Low under his breath he was snarling when he went on. Hatred, for a + moment, had flamed hot in his soul. Then he turned, and buried himself in + a clump of balsams that reached out into the plain, and a few moments + later came to the edge of a tiny meadow in the heart of them, where a + warbler was bursting its throat in evening-song. + </p> + <p> + Around the edge of the meadow Peter circled, his feet deep in buttercups + and red fire-flowers, and crushing softly ripe strawberries that grew in + scarlet profusion in the open, until he came to a screen of young + jackpines, and through these he quietly and apologetically nosed his way. + Then he stood wagging his tail, with Nada sitting on the grass half a + dozen steps from him, wiping the strawberry stain from her finger-tips. + And the stain was on her red lips, and a bit of it against the flush of + her cheek, as she gave a little cry of gladness and greeting to Peter. Her + eyes flashed beyond him, and every drop of blood in her slim, beautiful + little body seemed to be throbbing with an excitement new to Peter as she + looked for Jolly Roger. + </p> + <p> + Peter went to her, and dropped down, with his head in her lap, and looking + up through his bushy eye-brows he saw a livid bruise just under the + ripples of her brown hair, where there had been no mark yesterday, or the + day before. Nada's hands drew him closer, until he was half in her lap, + and she bent her face down to him, so that her thick, shining hair fell + all about him. Peter loved her hair, almost as much as Jolly Roger loved + it, and he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath of content as the + smothering sweetness of it shut out the sunlight from him. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she whispered, “I'm almost scared to have him come today. I've + promised him. You remember—I promised to tell him if Jed Hawkins + struck me again. And he has! He made that mark, and if Jolly Roger knows + it he'll kill him. I've got to lie—lie—” + </p> + <p> + Peter wriggled, to show his interest, and his hard tail thumped the + ground. For a space Nada said nothing more, and he could hear and feel the + beating of her heart close down against him. Then she raised her head, and + looked in the direction from which she would first hear Jolly Roger as he + came through the young jackpines. Peter, with his eyes half closed in a + vast contentment, did not see or sense the change in her today—that + her blue eyes were brighter, her cheeks flushed, and in her body a strange + and subdued throbbing that had never been there before. Not even to Peter + did she whisper her secret, but waited and listened for Jolly Roger, and + when at last she heard him and he came through the screen of jackpines, + the color in her cheeks was like the stain of strawberries crimsoning her + finger-tips. In an instant, looking down upon her, Jolly Roger saw what + Peter had not discovered, and he stopped in his tracks, his heart thumping + like a hammer inside him. Never, even in his dreams, had the girl looked + lovelier than she did now, and never had her eyes met his eyes as they met + them today, and never had her red lips said as much to him, without + uttering a word. In the same instant he saw the livid bruise, half hidden + under her hair—and then he saw a big bundle behind her, partly + screened by a dwarfed banksian. After that his eyes went back to the + bruise. + </p> + <p> + “Jed Hawkins didn't do it,” said Nada, knowing what was in his mind. “It + was Jed's woman. And you can't kill her!” she added a little defiantly. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger caught the choking throb in her throat, and he knew she was + lying. But Nada thrust Peter from her lap, and stood up, and she seemed + taller and more like a woman than ever before in her life as she faced + Jolly Roger there in the tiny open, with violets and buttercups and red + strawberries in the soft grass under their feet. And behind them, and very + near, a rival to the warbler in the meadow began singing. But Nada did not + hear. The color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but now it was + fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in front of her. + But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the sky as she + looked at Jolly Roger. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger,” she said. + </p> + <p> + A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead, + revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and Nada saw + gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter which always + frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and when she reached out + and touched his arm the flesh of it was as hard as white birch. Even in + her fear there was glory in the thought that at a word from her he would + kill the man who had struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, timidly, + and the blue in her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading tremble in the + curve of her lips as she looked straight at him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going back,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the bundle. His + eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed to swell in his + chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense muscles relax. He tried to + smile. He struggled to bring up the courage which would make possible the + confession he had to make. And Peter, sitting on his haunches in a patch + of violets, watched them both, wondering what was going to happen between + these two. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” Jolly Roger asked. + </p> + <p> + Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were twisting at his + flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth part of a second did she + drop her eyes, and that strange, wonderful something which he saw looking + at him so clearly out of her soul brought the truth to Jolly Roger, before + she had spoken. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' with you and Peter.” + </p> + <p> + The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he stepped back + from her. He looked away from her—at Peter. But her pale face, her + parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her radiant hair stirred + by the wind—came between them. She was no longer the little girl—“past + seventeen, goin' on eighteen.” To Jolly Roger she was all that the world + held of glorious womanhood. + </p> + <p> + “But—you can't!” he cried desperately. “I've come to tell you + things, Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been livin' a + lie—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth. + </p> + <p> + “You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is bad. But + the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've wanted me for years. + That's why I came down here, and hid over in Indian Tom's cabin—near + where I first met you. I thought they wouldn't find me away down here, but + they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big rock-pile at the + end of the Ridge. I'm—an outlaw. I've done a lot of bad things—in + the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet in me, or in + jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life to be able to tell + you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be square.” + </p> + <p> + He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as he went + on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. Her lips seemed + redder, and what he was saying did not seem to startle her, or frighten + her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you understand, Nada?” he cried. “I'm bad. The police want me. I'm + a fugitive—always running away, always hiding—an outlaw—” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Mister Roger,” she said quietly. “I heard you tell Peter that + a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place the day after you and + Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and I showed him the way to Father + John's, and he told me a lot about you, and he told Father John a lot + more, and it made me awful proud of you, Mister Roger—and I want to + go with you and Peter!” + </p> + <p> + “Proud!” gasped Jolly Roger. “Proud, of ME—” + </p> + <p> + She nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “Mister Cassidy—the policeman—he used just the word you used a + minute ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other people. He + said he had to get you in jail if he could, but he hoped he never would. + He said he'd like to have a man like you for a brother. And Peter loves + you. And I—” + </p> + <p> + The color came into her white face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' with you and Peter,” she finished. + </p> + <p> + Something came to relieve the tenseness of the moment for Jolly Roger. + Peter, nosing in a thick patch of bunch-grass, put out a huge snowshoe + rabbit, and the two crashed in a startling avalanche through the young + jackpines, Peter's still puppyish voice yelling in a high staccato as he + pursued. Jolly Roger turned from Nada, and stared where they had gone. But + he was seeing nothing. He knew the hour of his mightiest fight had come. + In the reckless years of his adventuring he had more than once faced + death. He had starved. He had frozen. He had run the deadliest gantlets of + the elements, of beast, and of man. Yet was the strife in him now the + greatest of all his life. His heart thumped. His brain was swirling in a + vague and chaotic struggle for the mastery of things, and as he fought + with himself—his unseeing eyes fixed on the spot where Peter and the + snowshoe rabbit had disappeared—he heard Nada's voice behind him, + saying again that she was going with him and Peter. In those seconds he + felt himself giving way, and the determined action he had built up for + himself began to crumble like sand. He had made his confession and in + spite of it this young girl he worshipped—sweeter and purer than the + flowers of the forest—was urging herself upon him! And his soul + cried out for him to turn about, and open his arms to her, and gather her + into them for as long as God saw fit to give him freedom and life. + </p> + <p> + But still he fought against that mighty urge, dragging reason and right + back fragment by fragment, while Nada stood behind him, her wide-open, + childishly beautiful eyes beginning to comprehend the struggle that was + disrupting the heart of this man who was an outlaw—and her god among + men. And when Jolly Roger turned, his face had aged to the grayness of + stone, and his eyes were dull, and there was a terribly dead note in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + “You can't go with us,” he said. “You can't. It's wrong—all wrong. I + couldn't take care of you in jail, and some day—that's where I'll + be.” + </p> + <p> + More than once when she had spoken of Jed Hawkins he had seen the swift + flash of lightning come into the violet of her eyes. And it came now, and + her little hands grew tight at her sides, and bright spots burned in her + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “You won't!” she cried. “I won't let you go to jail. I'll fight for you—if + you'll let me go with you and Peter!” + </p> + <p> + She came a step nearer. + </p> + <p> + “And if I stay here Jed Hawkins is goin' to sell me to a tie-cutter over + on the railroad. That's what it is—sellin' me. I ain't—I mean + I haven't—told you before, because I was afraid of what you'd do. + But it's goin' to happen, unless you let me go with you and Peter. Oh, + Mister Roger—Mister Jolly Roger—” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers crept up his arms. They reached his shoulders, and her blue + eyes, and her red lips, and the woman's soul in her girl-body were so + close to him he could feel their sweetness and thrill, and then he saw a + slow-gathering mist, and tears— + </p> + <p> + “I'll go wherever you go,” she was whispering, “And we'll hide where they + won't ever find us, and I'll be happy, so happy, Mister Roger—and if + you won't take me I want to die. Oh—” + </p> + <p> + She was crying, with her head on his breast, and her slim, half bare arms + around his neck, and Jolly Roger listened like a miser to the choking + words that came with her sobs. And where there had been tumult and + indecision in his heart there came suddenly the clearness of sunshine and + joy, and with it the happiness of a new and mighty possession as his arms + closed about her, and he turned her face up, so that for the first time he + kissed the soft red lips that for some inscrutable reason the God of all + things had given into his keeping this day. + </p> + <p> + And then, holding her close, with her arms still tighter about his neck, + he cried softly, + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to take you, little girl. You're goin' with Peter and me, for + ever—and ever. And we'll go—tonight!” + </p> + <p> + When Peter came back, just in the last sunset glow of the evening, he + found his master alone in the bit of jackpine opening, and Nada was + swiftly crossing the larger meadow that lay between them and the break in + Cragg's Ridge, beyond which was Jed Hawkins' cabin. It was not the same + Jolly Roger whom he had left half an hour before. It was not the man of + the hiding-place in the rock-pile. Jolly Roger McKay, standing there in + the last soft glow of the day, was no longer the fugitive and the outcast. + He stood with silent lips, yet his soul was crying out its gratitude to + all that God of Life which breathed its sweetness of summer evening about + him. He was the First Possessor of the earth. In that hour, that moment, + he would not have sold his place for all the happiness of all the + remaining people in the world. He cried out aloud, and Peter, squatted at + his feet with his red tongue lolling out, listened to him. + </p> + <p> + “She is mine, mine, mine,” he was saying, and he repeated that word over + and over, until Peter quirked his ears, and wondered what it meant. And + then, seeing Peter, Jolly Roger laughed softly, and bent over him, with a + look of awe and wonderment mingling with the happiness in his face. + </p> + <p> + “She's mine—ours,” he cried boyishly. “God A'mighty took a hand, + Pied-Bot, and she's going with us! We're going tonight, when the moon + comes up. And Peter—Peter—we're going straight to the + Missioner's, and he'll marry us, and then we'll hit for a place where no + one in the world will ever find us. The law may want us, Pied-Bot, but God—this + God all around—is good to us. And we'll try and pay Him back. We + will, Peter!” + </p> + <p> + He straightened himself, and faced the west. Then he picked up the bundle + Nada had brought, and dived through the jackpines, with Peter at his + heels. Swiftly they moved through the shadowing dusk of the plain, and + came at last to the Stew-Kettle, and to their hiding-place under the + shoulders of Gog and Magog. There was still a faint twilight in the + tunnel, and in this twilight Jolly Roger McKay packed his possessions; and + then, with fingers that trembled as if they were committing a sacrilege, + he drew Nada's few treasures from her bundle and placed them tenderly with + his own. And all the time Peter heard him saying things under his breath, + so softly that it was like the whispered drone of song. + </p> + <p> + In darkness they went down through the rocks to the plain, and half an + hour later they came to the break in the Ridge, and went through it, and + stopped in the black shadow of a great rock, with Jed Hawkins' cabin half + a rifle-shot away. Here Nada was to come to them with the first rising of + the moon. + </p> + <p> + It was very still all about, and Peter sensed a significance in the + silence, and lay very quietly watching the light in the cabin, and the + shadowy form of his master. Also he knew that somewhere in the distance a + storm was gathering. The breath of it was in the air, though the sky was + clear of cloud overhead, except for the haze of a gray and ghostly mist + that lay between them and the yellow stars. Jolly Roger counted the + seconds between then and moonrise. It seemed hours before the golden rim + of it rose in the east. Shadows grew swiftly after that. Grotesque things + took shape. The rock-caps of the ridge began to light up, like timid + signal-fires. Black spruce and balsam and cedar glistened as if bathed in + enamel. And the moon came on, and mellow floods of light played in the + valleys and plains, and danced over the forest-tops, and in voice-less and + soundless miracle called upon all living things to look upon the glory of + God. In his soul Jolly Roger McKay felt the urge and the call of that + voiceless Master Power, and through his lips came an unconscious whisper + of prayer—of gratitude. + </p> + <p> + And he watched the light in Jed Hawkins' cabin, and strained his ears to + hear a sound of footsteps coming through the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + But there was no change. The light did not move. A door did not open or + close. There was no sound, except the growing whisper of the wind, the + call of a night bird, and the howl of the old gray wolf that always cried + out to the moon from the tangled depths of Indian Tom's swamp. + </p> + <p> + A thrill of nervousness swept through Jolly Roger. He waited half an hour, + three-quarters, an hour—after the moon had risen. And Nada did not + come. The nervousness grew in him, and he moved out into the moon-glow, + and slowly and watchfully followed the edge of the rock-shadows until he + came to the fringe of cedars and spruce behind the cabin. Peter, careful + not to snap a twig under his paws, followed closely. They came to the + cabin, and there—very distinctly—Jolly Roger McKay heard the + low moaning of a voice. + </p> + <p> + He edged his way to the window, and looked in. + </p> + <p> + Crouched beside a chair in the middle of the floor was Jed Hawkins's + woman. She was moaning, and her thin body was rocking back and forth, and + with her hands clasped at her bony breast she was staring at the open + door. With a shock Jolly Roger saw that except for the strangely crying + old woman the cabin was empty. Sudden fear chilled his blood—a fear + that scarcely took form before he was at the door, and in the cabin. The + woman's eyes were red and wild as she stared at him, and she stopped her + moaning, and her hands unclasped. Jolly Roger went nearer and bent over + her and shivered at the half-mad terror he saw in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Nada?” he demanded. “Tell me—where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone, gone, gone,” crooned the woman, clutching her hands at her breast + again. “Jed has taken her—taken her to Mooney's shack, over near the + railroad. Oh, my God!—I tried to keep her, but I couldn't. He + dragged her away, and tonight he's sellin' her to Mooney—the devil—the + black brute—the tie-cutter—” + </p> + <p> + She choked, and began rocking herself back and forth, and the moaning came + again from her thin lips. Fiercely McKay gripped her by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Mooney's shack—where?” he cried. “Quick! Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand—a thousand—he's givin' a thousand dollars to git + her in the shack—alone,” she cried in a dull, sing-song voice. “The + road out there leads straight to it. Near the railroad. A mile. Two miles. + I tried to keep him from doin' it, but I couldn't—I couldn't—” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger heard no more. He was out of the door, and running across the + open, with Peter racing close behind him. They struck the road, and Jolly + Roger swung into it, and continued to run until the breath was out of his + lungs. And all that time the things Nada had told him about Jed Hawkins + and the tie-cutter were rushing madly through his brain. An hour or two + ago, when the words had come from her lips in the jackpine thicket, he had + believed that Nada was frightened, that a distorted fear possessed her, + that such a thing as she had half confessed to him was too monstrous to + happen. And now he cried out aloud, a groaning, terrible cry as he went + on. Hawkins and Nada had reached Mooney's shack long before this, a shack + buried deep in the wilderness, a shack from which no cries could be heard— + </p> + <p> + Peter, trotting behind, whined at what he heard in Jolly Roger McKay's + panting voice. And the moon shone on them as they staggered and ran, and + here and there dark clouds were racing past the face of it, and the + slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in the air. And then came the time + when one of the dark clouds rode under the moon and the two ran on in + darkness. The cloud passed, and the moon flooded the road again with light—and + suddenly Jolly Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart almost broke in + the strain of that moment. + </p> + <p> + Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was Nada. + Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid light of the moon. + Her hair was tangled and twisted about her shoulders and over her breast. + One arm was bare where the sleeve had been torn away, and her girlish + breast gleamed white where her waist had been stripped half from her body. + And then she saw Jolly Roger in the trail, with wide-open, reaching arms, + and with a cry such as Peter had never heard come from her lips before she + ran into them, and held up her face to him in the yellow moon-light. In + her eyes—great, tearless, burning pools—he saw the tragedy and + yet it was only that, and not horror, not despair, NOT the other thing. + His arms closed crushingly about her. Her slim body seemed to become a + part of him. Her hot lips reached up and clung to his. + </p> + <p> + And then, + </p> + <p> + “Did—he get you—to—Mooney's shack—” He felt her + body stiffen against him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she panted. “I fought—every inch. He dragged me, and hit me, + and tore my clothes—but I fought. And up there—in the trail—he + turned his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and I hit him + with a club. And he's there, now, on his back—” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's length. A + cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was low, and terrible. + </p> + <p> + “Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can,” he said, fighting to + speak coolly. “Take Peter—and go. You will make it before the storm + breaks. I am going back to have a few words with Jed Hawkins—alone. + Then I will join you, and the Missioner will marry us—” + </p> + <p> + The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear had + disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of the night. Her + red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure of their purity and + love, and for a moment he held her close in his arms again, kissing her as + he might have kissed an angel, while her little hands stroked his face, + and she laughed softly and strangely in her happiness—the wonder of + a woman's soul rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her girlhood. + </p> + <p> + And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to go. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, little girl,” he said. “Hurry—before the storm breaks!” + </p> + <p> + She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the trail, not + once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he would this night + wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation. Never before had he felt the + desire to kill. But he felt that desire now. Before the night was much + older he would do unto Hawkins and Mooney as Hawkins had done unto Peter. + He would leave them alive, but broken and crippled and forever punished. + </p> + <p> + And then he stumbled over something in another darkening of the moon. He + stopped, and the light came again, and he looked down into the upturned + face of Jed Hawkins. It was a distorted and twisted face, and its one eye + was closed. The body did not move. And close to the head was the club + which Nada had used. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger laughed grimly. Fate was kind to him in making a half of his + work so easy. But he wanted Hawkins to rouse himself first. Roughly he + stirred him with the toe of his boot. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, you fiend,” he said. “I'm going to break your bones, your arms, + your legs, just as you broke Peter—and that poor old woman back in + the cabin. Wake up!” + </p> + <p> + Jed Hawkins made no stir. He was strangely limp. For many seconds Jolly + Roger stood looking down at him, his eyes growing wider, more staring. + Darkness came again. It was an inky blackness this time, like a blotter + over the world. Low thunder came out of the west. The tree-tops whispered + in a frightened sort of way. And Jolly Roger could hear his heart beating. + He dropped upon his knees, and his hands moved over Jed Hawkins. For a + space not even Peter could have heard his movement or his breath. + </p> + <p> + In the ebon darkness he rose to his feet, and the night—lifelessly + still for a moment—heard the one choking word that came from his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” + </p> + <p> + And there he stood, the heat of his rage changing to an icy chill, his + heart dragging within him like a chunk of lead, his breath choking in his + throat. Jed Hawkins was dead! He was growing stiff there in the black + trail. He had ceased to breathe. He had ceased to be a part of life. And + the wind, rising a little with the coming of storm, seemed to whisper and + chortle over the horrible thing, and the lone wolf in Indian Tom's swamp + howled weirdly, as if he smelled death. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger McKay's finger-nails dug into the flesh of his palms. If he + had killed the human viper at his feet, if his own hands had meted out his + punishment, he would not have felt the clammy terror that wrapped itself + about him in the darkness. But he had come too late. It was Nada who had + killed Jed Hawkins. Nada, with her woman's soul just born in all its + glory, had taken the life of her foster-father. And Canadian law knew no + excuse for killing. + </p> + <p> + The chill crept to his finger-tips, and unconsciously, in a childish sort + of way, he sobbed between his clenched teeth. The thunder was rolling + nearer, and it was like a threatening voice, a deep-toned booming of a + thing inevitable and terrible. He felt the air shivering about him, and + suddenly something moved softly against his foot, and he heard a + questioning whine. It was Peter—come back to him in this hour when + he needed a living thing to give him courage. With a groan he dropped on + his knees again, and clutched his hands about Peter. + </p> + <p> + “My God,” he breathed huskily. “Peter, she's killed him. And she mustn't + know. We mustn't let anyone know—” + </p> + <p> + And there he stopped, and Peter felt him growing rigid as stone, and for + many moments Jolly Roger's body seemed as lifeless as that of the man who + lay with up-turned face in the trail. Then he fumbled in a pocket and + found a pencil and an old envelope. And on the envelope, with the darkness + so thick he could not see his hand, he scribbled, “I killed Jed Hawkins,” + and after that he signed his name firmly and fully—“Jolly Roger + McKay.” + </p> + <p> + Then he tucked the envelope under Jed Hawkins' body, where the rain could + not get at it. And after that, to make the evidence complete, he covered + the dead man's face with his coat. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to do it, Peter,” he said, and there was a new note in his + voice as he stood up on his feet again. “We've got to do it—for her. + We'll—tell her we caught Jed Hawkins in the trail and killed him.” + </p> + <p> + Caution, cleverness, his old mental skill returned to him. He dragged the + boot-legger's body to a new spot, turned it face down, threw the club + away, and kicked up the earth with his boots to give signs of a struggle. + </p> + <p> + The note in his voice was triumph—triumph in spite of its heartbreak—as + he turned back over the trail after he had finished, and spoke to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “We may have done some things we oughtn't to, Pied-Bot,” he said, “but + tonight I sort o' think we've tried to make—restitution. And if they + hang us, which they probably will some time, I sort o' think it'll make us + happy to know we've done it—for her. Eh, Pied-Bot?” + </p> + <p> + And the moon sailed out for a space, and shone on the dead whiteness of + Jolly Roger's face. And on the lips of that face was a strange, cold + smile, a smile of mastery, of exaltation, and the eyes were looking + straight ahead—the eyes of a man who had made his sacrifice for a + thing more precious to him than his God. + </p> + <p> + Only now and then did the moon gleam through the slow-moving masses of + black cloud when he came to the edge of the Indian settlement clearing + three miles away, where stood the cabin of the Missioner. The storm had + not broken, but seemed holding back its forces for one mighty onslaught + upon the world. The thunder was repressed, and the lightning held in + leash, with escaping flashes of it occasionally betraying the impending + ambuscades of the sky. + </p> + <p> + The clearing itself was a blot of stygian darkness, with a yellow patch of + light in the center of it—the window of the Missioner's cabin. And + Jolly Roger stood looking at it for a space, as a carven thing of rock + might have stared. His heart was dead. His soul crushed. His dream broken. + There remained only his brain, his mind made up, his worship for the girl—a + love that had changed from a thing of joy to a fire of agony within him. + Straight ahead he looked, knowing there was only one thing for him to do. + And only one. There was no alternative. No hope. No change of fortune that + even the power of God might bring about. What lay ahead of him was + inevitable. + </p> + <p> + After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of dying + for one's country—or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay felt + that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at the door, + and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired Missioner in the + lampglow. + </p> + <p> + Swift as one of the flashes of lightning in the sky the anxiety and fear + had gone out of Nada's face, and in an instant it was flooded with the joy + of his coming. She did not mark the strange change in him, but went to him + as she had gone to him in the trail, and Jolly Roger's arms closed about + her, but gently this time, and very tenderly, as he might have held a + little child he was afraid of hurting. Then she felt the chill of his lips + as she pressed her own to them. Startled, she looked up into his eyes. And + as he had done in the trail, so now Jolly Roger stood her away from him, + and faced the Missioner. In a cold, hard voice he told what had happened + to Nada that evening, and of the barbarous effort Jed Hawkins had made to + sell her to Mooney. Then, from a pocket inside his shirt, he drew out a + small, flat leather wallet, and thrust it in the little Missioner's hand. + </p> + <p> + “There's close to a thousand dollars in that,” he said. “It's mine. And + I'm giving it to you—for Nada. I want you to keep her, and care for + her, and mebby some day—” + </p> + <p> + With both her hands Nada clutched his arm. Her eyes had widened. Swift + pallor had driven the color from her face, and a broken cry was in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' with you,” she protested. “I'm goin' with you—and Peter!” + </p> + <p> + “You can't—now,” he said. “I've got to go alone, Nada. I went back—and + I killed Jed Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + Over the roof of the cabin rolled a crash of thunder. As the explosion of + it rocked the floor under their feet, Jolly Roger pointed to a door, and + said, + </p> + <p> + “Father, if you will leave us alone—just a minute—” + </p> + <p> + White-faced, clutching the wallet, the little gray Missioner nodded, and + went to the door, and as he opened it and entered into the darkness of the + other room he saw Jolly Roger McKay open wide his arms, and the girl go + into them. After that the storm broke. The rain descended in a deluge upon + the cabin roof. The black night was filled with the rumble and roar and + the hissing lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly freed of bondage. + And in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a little gray man of + tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer and of faith in God—his + heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he waited. The minutes passed. + Five. Ten. And then there came a louder roaring of the storm, shut off + quickly, and the little Missioner knew that a door was opened—and + closed. + </p> + <p> + He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled at + the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the + lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair—lay Nada, and close + beside her was Peter. He went to her. Tenderly he knelt down beside her. + His thin arm went about her, and as the storm raved and shrieked above + them he tried to comfort her—and spoke of God. + </p> + <p> + And through that storm, his head bowed, his heart gone, went Jolly Roger + McKay—heading north. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Peter, thrust back from the door through which through which his master + had gone, listened vainly for the sound of returning footsteps in the beat + of rain and the crash of thunder outside. A strange thing had burned + itself into his soul, a thing that made his flesh quiver and set hot fires + running in his blood. As a dog sometimes senses the stealthy approach of + death, so he began to sense the tragedy of this night that had brought + with it not only a chaos of blackness and storm, but an anguish which + roused an answering whimper in his throat as he turned toward Nada. + </p> + <p> + She was crumpled with her head in her arms, where she had flung herself + with Jolly Roger's last kiss of worship on her lips, and she was sobbing + like a child with its heart broken. And beside her knelt the old gray + Missioner, man of God in the deep forest, who stroked her hair with his + thin hand, whispering courage and consolation to her, with the wind and + rain beating overhead and the windows rattling to the accompaniment of + ghostly voices that shrieked and wailed in the tree-tops outside. + </p> + <p> + Peter trembled at the sobbing, but his heart and his desire were with the + man who had gone. In his unreasoning little soul it was Jed Hawkins who + was rattling the windows with his unseen hands and who was pounding at the + door with the wind, and who was filling the black night with its menace + and fear. He hated this man, who lay back in the trail with his lifeless + face turned up to the deluge that poured out of the sky. And he was afraid + of the man, even as he hated him, and he believed that Nada was afraid of + him, and that because of her fear she was crying there in the middle of + the floor, with Father John patting her shoulder and stroking her hair, + and saying things to her which he could not understand. He wanted to go to + her. He wanted to feel himself close against her, as Nada had held him so + often in those hours when she had unburdened her grief and her unhappiness + to him. But even stronger than this desire was the one to follow his + master. + </p> + <p> + He went to the door, and thrust his nose against the crack at the bottom + of it. He felt the fierceness of the wind fighting to break in, and the + broken mist of it filled his nostrils. But there came no scent of Jolly + Roger McKay. For a moment he struggled at the crack with his paws. Then he + flopped himself down, his heart beating fast, and fixed his eyes + inquiringly on Nada and the Missioner. + </p> + <p> + His four and a half months of life in the big wilderness, and his weeks of + constant comradeship with Jolly Roger, had developed in him a brain that + was older than his body. No process of reasoning could impinge upon him + the fact that his master was an outlaw, but with the swift experiences of + tragedy and hiding and never-ceasing caution had come instinctive + processes which told him almost as much as reason. He knew something was + wrong tonight. It was in the air. He breathed it. It thrilled in the crash + of thunder, in the lightning fire, in the mighty hands of the wind rocking + the cabin and straining at the windows. And vaguely the knowledge gripped + him that the dead man back in the trail was responsible for it all, and + that because of this something that had happened his mistress was crying + and his master was gone. And he believed he should also have gone with + Jolly Roger into the blackness and mystery of the storm, to fight with him + against the one creature in all the world he hated—the dead man who + lay back in the thickness of gloom between the forest walls. + </p> + <p> + And the Missioner was saying to Nada, in a quiet, calm voice out of which + the tragedies of years had burned all excitement and passion: + </p> + <p> + “God will forgive him, my child. In His mercy He will forgive Roger McKay, + because he killed Jed Hawkins to save YOU. But man will not forgive. The + law has been hunting him because he is an outlaw, and to outlawry he has + added what the law will call murder. But God will not look at it in that + way. He will look into the heart of the man, the man who sacrificed + himself—” + </p> + <p> + And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting hand, and + Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the lampglow. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what God thinks,” she cried passionately. “God didn't do + right today. Mister Roger told me everything, that he was an outlaw, an' I + oughtn't to marry him. But I didn't care. I loved him. I could hide with + him. An' we were coming to have you marry us tonight when God let Jed + Hawkins drag me away, to sell me to a man over on the railroad—an' + it was God who let Mister Roger go back and kill him. I tell you He didn't + do right! He didn't—he didn't—because Mister Roger brought me + the first happiness I ever knew, an' I loved him, an' he loved me—an' + God was wicked to let him kill Jed Hawkins—” + </p> + <p> + Her voice cried out, a woman's soul broken in a girl's body, and Peter + whimpered and watched the Missioner as he raised Nada to her feet and went + with her into his bedroom, where a few minutes before he had lighted a + lamp. And Peter crept in quietly after them, and when the Missioner had + gone and closed the door, leaving them alone in their tragedy, Nada seemed + to see him for the first time and slowly she reached out her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” she whispered. “Peter—Peter—” + </p> + <p> + In the minutes that followed, Peter could feel her heart beating. Clutched + against her breast he looked up at the white, beautiful face, the + trembling throat, the wide-open blue eyes staring at the one black window + between them and the outside night. A lull had come in the storm. It was + quiet and ominous stillness, and the ticking of a clock, old and gray like + the Missioner himself, filled the room. And Nada, seated on the edge of + Father John's bed, no longer looked like the young girl of “seventeen + goin' on eighteen.” That afternoon, in the hidden jackpine open, with its + sweet-scented jasmines, its violets and its crimson strawberries under + their feet, the soul of a woman had taken possession of her body. In that + hour the first happiness of her life had come to her. She had heard Jolly + Roger McKay tell her those things which she already knew—that he was + an outlaw, and that he was hiding down on the near-edge of civilization + because the Royal Mounted were after him farther north—and that he + was not fit to love her, and that it was a crime to let her love him. It + was then the soul of the woman had come to her in all its triumph. She had + made her choice, definitely and decisively, without hesitation and without + fear. And now, as she stared unseeingly at the window against which the + rain was beating, the woman in her girlish body rose in her mightier than + in the hour of her happiness, fighting to find a way—crying out for + the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + Her mind swept back in a single flash through all the years she had lived, + through her years of unhappiness and torment as the foster-girl of Jed + Hawkins and his broken, beaten wife; through summers and winters that had + seemed ages to her, eternities of desolation, of heartache, of loneliness, + with the big wilderness her one friend on earth. As the window rattled in + a fresh blast of storm, she thought of the day months ago when she had + accidentally stumbled upon the hiding-place of Roger McKay. Since that day + he had been her God, and she had lived in a paradise. He had been father, + mother, brother, and at last—what she most yearned for—a lover + to her. And this day, when for the first time he had held her in his arms, + when the happiness of all the earth had reached out to them, God had put + it into Jed Hawkins' heart to destroy her—and Jolly Roger had killed + him! + </p> + <p> + With a sharp little cry she sprang to her feet, so suddenly that Peter + fell with a thump to the floor. He looked up at her, puzzled, his jaws + half agape. She was breathing quickly. Her slender body was quivering. + Suddenly Peter saw the fire in her eyes and the flame that was rushing + into her white cheeks. Then she turned to him, and panted in a wild little + whisper, so low that the Missioner could not hear: + </p> + <p> + “Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill Jed + Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be killed. Peter—Peter—we + don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' with him. We're goin'—goin'—” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she strained at it + with all her strength, and he could hear her sobbing: + </p> + <p> + “We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'—if we die for it!” + </p> + <p> + An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A gust of + wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada saw a knife in + an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped for it, and clutched it + in her hand as she climbed through the window and dropped to the soggy + ground beneath. In a single leap Peter followed her. Blackness swallowed + them as they turned toward the trail leading north—the only trail + which Jolly Roger could travel on a night like this. They heard the voice + of the Missioner calling from the window behind them. Then a crash of + thunder set the earth rolling under their feet, and the lull in the storm + came to an end. The sky split open with the vivid fire of lightning. The + trees wailed and whined, the rain fell again in a smothering deluge, and + through it Nada ran, gripping the knife as her one defense against the + demons of darkness—and always close at her side ran Peter. + </p> + <p> + He could not see her in that pitchy blackness, except when the lightning + flashes came. Then she was like a ghostly wraith, with drenched clothes + clinging to her until she seemed scarcely dressed, her wet hair streaming + and her wide, staring eyes looking straight ahead. After the lightning + flashes, when the world was darkest, he could hear the stumbling tread of + her feet and the panting of her breath, and now and then the swish of + brush as it struck across her face and breast. The rain had washed away + the scent of his master's feet but he knew they were following Jolly + Roger, and that the girl was running to overtake him. In him was the + desire to rush ahead, to travel faster through the night, but Nada's + stumbling feet and her panting breath and the strange white pictures he + saw of her when the sky split open with fire held him back. Something told + him that Nada must reach Jolly Roger. And he was afraid she would stop. He + wanted to bark to give her encouragement, as he had often barked in their + playful races in the green plain-lands on the farther side of Cragg's + Ridge. But the rain choked him. It beat down upon him with the weight of + heavy hands, it slushed up into his face from pools in the trail and drove + the breath from him when he attempted to open his jaws. So he ran close—so + close that at times Nada felt the touch of his body against her. + </p> + <p> + In these first minutes of her fight to overtake the man she loved Nada + heard but one voice—a voice crying out from her heart and brain and + soul, a voice rising above the tumult of thunder and wind, urging her on, + whipping the strength from her frail body in pitiless exhortation. Jolly + Roger was less than half an hour ahead of her. And she must overtake him—quickly—before + the forests swallowed him, before he was gone from her life forever. + </p> + <p> + The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. When the + brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and stumbled on. + Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay across her path, and + dragged her bruised body through their twisted tops, moaning to Peter and + clutching tightly to the sheathed knife in her hand. And the wild spirits + that possessed the night seemed to gather about her, and over her, + exulting in the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in weird and + savage joy at the discovery of this human plaything struggling against + their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he heard it now. It rocked + the earth under his feet. It filled the world with a ceaseless rumble, and + the lightning came like flashes from swift-loading guns, and with it all a + terrific assault of wind and rain that at last drove Nada down in a + crumpled heap, panting for breath, with hands groping out wildly for him. + </p> + <p> + Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found the palm + of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to her, while she bowed + her head until her drenched curls became a part of the mud and water of + the trail. Peter could hear her sobbing for breath. And then suddenly, + there came a change. The thunder was sweeping eastward. The lightning was + going with it. The wind died out in wailing sobs among the treetops, and + the rain fell straight down. Swiftly as its fury had come, the July storm + was passing. And Nada staggered to her feet again and went on. + </p> + <p> + Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging itself + out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. She began to + reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith and confidence gave + her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger would take this trail, for it + was the one trail leading from the Missioner's cabin through the thick + forest country north. And in half an hour he would not travel far. The + thrilling thought came to her that possibly he had sought shelter in the + lee of a big tree trunk during the fury of the storm. If he had done that + he would be near, very near. She paused in the trail and gathered her + breath, and cried out his name. Three times she called it, and only the + low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. Twice again during the next + ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she could into the darkness. And + still no answer came back to her through the gloom ahead. + </p> + <p> + The trail had dipped, and she felt the deepening slush of swamp-mire under + her feet. She sank in it to her shoe-tops, and stumbled into pools + knee-deep, and Peter wallowed in it to his belly. A quarter of an hour + they fought through it to the rising ground beyond. And by that time the + last of the black storm clouds had passed overhead. The rain had ceased. + The rumble of thunder came more faintly. There was no lightning, and the + tree-tops began to whisper softly, as if rejoicing in the passing of the + wind. About them—everywhere—they could hear the run and drip + of water, the weeping of the drenched trees, the gurgle of flooded pools, + and the trickle of tiny rivulets that splashed about their feet. Through a + rift in the breaking clouds overhead came a passing flash of the moon. + </p> + <p> + “We'll find him now, Peter,” moaned the girl. “We'll find him—now. + He can't be very far ahead—” + </p> + <p> + And Peter waited, holding his breath, listening for an answer to the cry + that went out for Jolly Roger McKay. + </p> + <p> + The glory of July midnight, with a round, full moon straight overhead, + followed the stress of storm. The world had been lashed and inundated, + every tree whipped of its rot and slag, every blade of grass and flower + washed clean. Out of the earth rose sweet smells of growing life, the + musky fragrance of deep moss and needle-mold, and through the clean air + drifted faintly the aroma of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of + unending canopies and glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into + the night. The deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an + invisible and mysterious life—life that was still, yet wide-awake, + breathing, watchful, drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air which + had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar of wind and + rain. And the moon, like a queen who had so ordered these things, looked + down in a mighty triumph. Her radiance, without dust or fog or + forest-smoke to impede its way, was like the mellow glow of half-day. It + streamed through the treetops in paths of gold and silver, throwing dark + shadows where it failed to penetrate, and gathering in wide pools where + its floods poured through broad rifts in the roofs of the forest. And the + trail, leading north, was like a river of shimmering silver, splitting the + wilderness from earth to sky. + </p> + <p> + In this trail, clearly made in the wet soil, were Jolly Roger's + foot-prints, and in a wider space, where at some time a trapper had + cleared himself a spot for his tepee or shack, Jolly Roger had paused to + rest after his fight through the storm—and had then continued on his + way. And into this clearing, three hours after they left the Missioner's + cabin, came Nada and Peter. + </p> + <p> + They came slowly, the girl a slim wraith in the moon-light; in the open + they stood for a moment, and Peter's heart weighed heavily within him as + his mistress cried out once more for Jolly Roger. Her voice rose only in a + sob, and ended in a sob. The last of her strength was gone. Her little + figure swayed, and her face was white and haggard, and in her drawn lips + and staring eyes was the agony of despair. She had lost, and she knew that + she had lost as she crumpled down in the trail, crying out sobbingly to + the footprints which led so clearly ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, I can't go on,” she moaned. “I can't—go on—” + </p> + <p> + Her hands clutched at her breast. Peter saw the glint of the moonlight on + the ivory sheath of the Eskimo knife, and he saw her white face turned up + to the sky—and also that her lips were moving, but he did not hear + his name come from them, or any other sound. He whined, and foot by foot + began to nose along the trail on the scent left by Jolly Roger. It was + very clear to his nostrils, and it thrilled him. He looked back, and again + he whined his encouragement to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” she called. “Peter!” + </p> + <p> + He returned to her. She had drawn the knife out of its scabbard, and the + cold steel glistened in her hand. Her eyes were shining, and she reached + out and clutched Peter close up against her, so that he could hear the + choke and throb of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peter, Peter,” she panted. “If you could only talk! If you could run + and catch Mister Roger, an' tell him I'm here, an' that he must come back—” + </p> + <p> + She hugged him closer. He sensed the sudden thrill that leapt through her + body. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she whispered, “will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments she did not seem to breathe. Then he heard a quick + little cry, a sob of inspiration and hope, and her arms came from about + him, and he saw the knife flashing in the yellow moonlight. + </p> + <p> + He did not understand, but he knew that he must watch her carefully. She + had bent her head, and her hair, nearly dry, glowed softly in the face of + the moon. Her hands were fumbling in the disheveled curls, and Peter saw + the knife flash back and forth, and heard the cut of it, and then he saw + that in her hand she held a thick brown tress of hair that she had severed + from her head. He was puzzled. And Nada dropped the knife, and his + curiosity increased when she tore a great piece out of her tattered dress, + and carefully wrapped the tress of hair in it. Then she drew him to her + again, and tied the knotted fold of dress securely about his neck; after + that she tore other strips from her dress, and wound them about his neck + until he felt muffled and half smothered. + </p> + <p> + And all the time she was talking to him in a half sobbing, excited little + voice, and the blood in Peter's body ran swifter, and the strange thrill + in him was greater. When she had finished she rose to her feet, and stood + there swaying back and forth, like one of the spruce-top shadows, while + she pointed up the moonlit trail. + </p> + <p> + “Go, Peter!” she cried softly. “Quick! Follow him, Peter—catch him—bring + him back! Mister Roger—Jolly Roger—go, Peter! Go—go—go—” + </p> + <p> + It was strange to Peter. But he was beginning to understand. He sniffed in + Jolly Roger's footprints, and then he looked up quickly, and saw that it + had pleased the girl. She was urging him on. He sniffed from one footprint + to another, and Nada clapped her hands and cried out that he was right—for + him to hurry—hurry— + </p> + <p> + Impulse, thought, swiftly growing knowledge of something to be done + thrilled in his brain. Nada wanted him to go. She wanted him to go to + Jolly Roger. And she had put something around his neck which she wanted + him to take with him. He whined eagerly, a bit excitedly. Then he began to + trot. Instinctively it was his test. She did not call him back. He + flattened his ears, listening for her command to return, but it did not + come. And then the thrill in him leapt over all other things. He was + right. He was not abandoning Nada. He was not running away. She WANTED him + to go! + </p> + <p> + The night swallowed him. He became a part of the yellow floods of its + moonlight, a part of its shifting shadows, a part of its stillness, its + mystery, its promise of impending things. He knew that grim and terrible + happenings had come with the storm, and he still sensed the nearness of + tragedy in this night-world through which he was passing. He did not go + swiftly, yet he went three times as fast as the girl and he had traveled + together. He was cautious and watchful, and at intervals he stopped and + listened, and swallowed hard to keep the whine of eagerness out of his + throat. Now that he was alone every instinct in him was keyed to the pulse + and beat of life about him. He knew the Night People of the deep forests + were awake. Softly padded, clawed, sharp-beaked and feathered—the + prowlers of darkness were on the move. With the stillness of shadows they + were stealing through the moonlit corridors of the wilderness, or hovering + gray-winged and ghostly in the ambuscades of the treetops, eager to waylay + and kill, hungering for the flesh and blood of creatures weaker than + themselves. Peter knew. Both heritage and experience warned him. And he + watched the shadows, and sniffed the air, and kept his fangs half bared + and ready as he followed the trail of McKay. + </p> + <p> + He was not stirred by the impulse of adventure alone. Without the finesse + of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he had sensed a + responsibility. It was present in the closely drawn strips of faded cloth + about his neck. It was, in a way, a part of the girl herself, a part of + her flesh and blood, a part of her spirit—something vital to her and + dependent upon him. He was ready to guard it with every instinct of + caution and every ounce of courage there was in him. And to protect it + meant to fight. That was the first law of his breed, the primal warning + which came to him through the red blood of many generations of wilderness + forefathers. So he listened, and he watched, and his blood pounded hot in + his veins as he followed the footprints in the trail. A bit of brush, + swinging suddenly free from where it had been prisoned by the storm, drew + a snarl from him as he faced the sound with the quickness of a cat. A gray + streak, passing swiftly over the trail ahead of him, stirred a low growl + in his throat. It was a lynx, and for a space Peter paused, and then sped + soft-footed past the moon-lit spot where the stiletto-clawed menace of the + woods had passed. + </p> + <p> + Now that he was alone, and no longer accompanied by a human presence whose + footsteps and scent held the wild things aloof and still, Peter felt + nearer and nearer to him the beat and stir of life. Powerful beaks, + instead of remaining closed and without sound, snapped and hissed at him + as the big gray owls watched his passing. He heard the rustling of brush, + soft as the stir of a woman's dress, where living things were secretly + moving, and he heard the louder crash of clumsy and piggish feet, and + caught the strong scent of a porcupine as it waddled to its midnight lunch + of poplar bark. Then the trail ended, and Jolly Roger's scent led into the + pathless forest, with its shifting streams and pools of moonlight, its + shadows and black pits of darkness. And here—now—Peter began + his trespass into the strongholds of the People of the Night. He heard a + wolf howl, a cry filled with loneliness, yet with a shivering death-note + in it; he caught the musky, skunkish odor of a fox that was stalking prey + in the face of a whispering breath of wind; once, in a moment of dead + stillness, he listened to the snap of teeth and the crackle of bones in + one of the dark pits, where a fisher-cat—with eyes that gleamed like + coals of fire—was devouring the warm and bleeding carcass of a + mother partridge. And beaks snapped at him more menacingly as he went on, + and gray shapes floated over his head, and now and then he heard the cries + of dying things—the agonized squeak of a wood-mouse, the cry of a + day-bird torn from its sleeping place by a sinuous, beady-eyed creature of + fur and claw, the noisy screaming of a rabbit swooped upon and pierced to + the vitals by one of the gray-feathered pirates of the air. And then, + squarely in the center of a great pool of moonlight, Peter came upon a + monster. It was a bear, a huge mother bear, with two butter-fat cubs + wrestling and rolling in the moon glow. Peter had never seen a bear. But + the mother, who raised her brown nose suddenly from the cool mold out of + which she had been digging lily-bulbs, had seen dogs. She had seen many + dogs, and she had heard their howl, and she knew that always they traveled + with man. She gave a deep, chesty sniff, and close after that sniff a + WHOOF that startled the cubs like the lashing end of a whip. They rolled + to her, and with two cuffs of the mother's huge paws they were headed in + the right direction, and all three crashed off into darkness. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his swelling heart Peter let out a little yip. It was a great + satisfaction, just at a moment when his nerves were getting unsteady, to + discover that a monster like this one in the moonlight was anxious to run + away from him. And Peter went on, a bit of pride and jauntiness in his + step, his bony tail a little higher. + </p> + <p> + A mile farther on, in another yellow pool of the moon, lay the partly + devoured carcass of a fawn. A wolf had killed it, and had fed, and now two + giant owls were rending and tearing in the flesh and bowels of what the + wolf had left. They were Gargantuans of their kind, one a male, the other + a female. Their talons warm in blood, their beaks red, their slow brains + drunk with a ravenous greed, they rose on their great wings in sullen rage + when Peter came suddenly upon them. He had ceased to be afraid of owls. + There was something shivery in the gritting of their beaks, especially in + the dark places, but they had never attacked him, and had always kept out + of his reach. So their presence in a black spruce top directly over the + dead fawn did not hold him back now. He sniffed at the fresh, sweet meat, + and hunger all at once possessed him. Where the wolf had stripped open a + tender flank he began to eat, and as he ate he growled, so that warning of + his possessorship reached the spruce top. + </p> + <p> + In answer to it came a stir of wings, and the male owl launched himself + out into the moon glow. The female followed. For a few moments they + floated like gray ghosts over Peter, silent as the night shadows. Then, + with the suddenness and speed of a bolt from a catapult, the giant male + shot out of a silvery mist of gloom and struck Peter. The two rolled over + the carcass of the fawn, and for a space Peter was dazed by the thundering + beat of powerful wings, and the hammering of the owl's beak at the back of + his neck. The male had missed his claw-hold, and driven by rage and + ferocity, fought to impale his victim from the ground, without launching + himself into the air again. Swiftly he struck, again and again, while his + wings beat like clubs. Suddenly his talons sank into the cloth wrapped + about Peter's neck. Terror and shock gave way to a fighting madness inside + Peter now. He struck up, and buried his fangs in a mass of feathers so + thick he could not feel the flesh. He tore at the padded breast, snarling + and beating with his feet, and then, as the stiletto-points of the owl's + talons sank through the cloth into his neck, his jaws closed on one of the + huge bird's legs. His teeth sank deep, there was a snapping and grinding + of tendon and bone, and a hissing squawk of pain and fear came from above + him as the owl made a mighty effort to launch himself free. As the + five-foot pinions beat the air Peter was lifted from the ground. But the + owl's talons were hopelessly entangled in the cloth, and the two fell in a + heap again. Peter scarcely sensed what happened after that, except that he + was struggling against death. He closed his eyes, and the leg between his + jaws was broken and twisted into pulp. The wings beat about him in a + deafening thunder, and the owl's beak tore at his flesh, until the pool of + moonlight in which they fought was red with blood. At last something gave + way. There was a ghastly cry that was like the cry of neither bird nor + beast, a weak flutter of wings, and Gargantua of the Air staggered up into + the treetops and fell with a crash among the thick boughs of the spruce. + </p> + <p> + Peter raised himself weakly, the severed leg of the owl dropping from his + jaws. He was half blinded. Every muscle in his body seemed to be torn and + bleeding, yet in his discomfort the thrilling conviction came to him that + he had won. He tensed himself for another attack, hugging the ground + closely as he watched and waited, but no attack came. He could hear the + flutter and wheeze of his maimed adversary, and slowly he drew himself + back—still facing the scene of battle—until in a farther patch + of gloom he turned once more to his business of following the trail of + Jolly Roger McKay. + </p> + <p> + There was no mark of bravado in his advance now. If he had possessed an + over-growing confidence, Gargantua's attack had set it back, and he stole + like a shifty fox through the night. Driven into his brain was the + knowledge that all things were not afraid of him, for even the snapping + beaks and floating gray shapes to which he had paid but little attention + had now become a deadly menace. His egoism had suffered a jolt, a + healthful reaction from its too swift ascendency. He sensed the narrowness + of his escape without the mental action of reasoning it out, and his + injuries were secondary to the oppressive horror of the uncanny combat out + of which he had come alive. Yet this horror was not a fear. Heretofore he + had recognized the ghostly owl-shapes of night more or less as a curious + part of darkness, inspiring neither like nor dislike in him. Now he hated + them, and ever after his fangs gleamed white when one of them floated over + his head. + </p> + <p> + He was badly hurt. There were ragged tears in his flank and back, and a + last stroke of Gargantua's talons had stabbed his shoulder to the bone. + Blood dripped from him, and one of his eyes was closing, so that shapes + and shadows were grotesquely dim in the night. Instinct and caution, and + the burning pains in his body, urged him to lie down in a thicket and wait + for the day. But stronger than these were memory of the girl's urging + voice, the vague thrill of the cloth still about his neck, and the + freshness of Jolly Roger's trail as it kept straight on through the + forest's moonlit corridors and caverns of gloom. + </p> + <p> + It was in the first graying light of July dawn that Peter dragged himself + up the rough side of a ridge and looked down into a narrow strip of plain + on the other side. Just as Nada had given up in weakness and despair, so + now he was almost ready to quit. He had traveled miles since the owl + fight, and his wounds had stiffened, and with every step gave him + excruciating pain. His injured eye was entirely closed, and there was a + strange, dull ache in the back of his head, where Gargantua had pounded + him with his beak. The strip of valley, half hidden in its silvery mist of + dawn, seemed a long distance away to Peter, and he dropped on his belly + and began to lick his raw shoulder with a feverish tongue. He was sick and + tired, and the futility of going farther oppressed him. He looked again + down into the strip of plain, and whined. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, he smelled something that was not the musty fog-mist that + hung between the ridges. It was smoke. Peter's heart beat faster, and he + pulled himself to his feet, and went in its direction. + </p> + <p> + Hidden in a little grassy cup between two great boulders that thrust + themselves out from the face of the ridge, he found Jolly Roger. First he + saw the smouldering embers of a fire that was almost out—and then + his master. Jolly Roger was asleep. Storm-beaten and strangely haggard and + gray his face was turned to the sky. Peter did not awaken him. There was + something in his master's face that quieted the low whimper in his throat. + Very gently he crept to him, and lay down. The movement, slight as it was, + made the man stir. His hand rose, and then fell limply across Peter's + body. But the fingers moved. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously, as if guided by the spirit and prayer of the girl waiting + far back in the forest, they twined about the cloth around Peter's neck—his + message to his master. + </p> + <p> + And for a long time after that, as the sun rose over a wonderful world, + Peter and his master slept. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + It was the restlessness of Peter that roused Jolly Roger. Half awake, and + before he opened his eyes, life seized upon him where sleep had cut it off + for a time last night. His muscles ached. His neck was stiff. He seemed + weighted like a log to the hard earth. Swiftly the experience of the + preceding hours rushed upon him, and it was in the first of this + wakefulness that he felt the presence of Peter. + </p> + <p> + He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the dog. The fact that Peter had escaped + from the cabin, and had followed him, was not altogether amazing. It was + quite the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. But the unexpectedness of + it held McKay speechless, and at first a little disappointed. It was as if + Peter had deliberately betrayed a trust. During the storm and flight of + the night McKay had thought of him as the one connecting link remaining + between him and the girl he loved. He had left Peter to fill his place, to + guard and watch and keep alive the memory of the man who was gone. For him + there had been something of consolation in this giving up of his + comradeship to Nada. And Peter had turned traitor. + </p> + <p> + Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was passing + behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay squatted on his + belly, with his nose straight out on the ground between his forepaws. It + was his attitude of self-immolation. His acknowledgment of the other's + right to strike with lash or club. Yet in his eyes, bright and steady + behind his mop of whiskers, Jolly Roger saw a prayer. + </p> + <p> + Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and in a + moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there was a mighty + something that reached from heart to heart of these two, and Jolly Roger + said, with a sound that was half laugh and half sob in his throat, + </p> + <p> + “Pied-Bot, you devil—you little devil—” + </p> + <p> + His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart jumped + when he saw what it was—a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, realizing + that at last the importance of his mission was understood, waited in eager + watchfulness while his master untied the knot. And in another moment, out + in the clean and glorious sun that had followed storm, McKay held the + shining tress of Nada's hair. + </p> + <p> + It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him crush + the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while strange quivers + ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness that was not rain gathered + in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “God bless her!” he whispered. And then he said, “I wish I was a kid, + Peter—a kid. Because—if I ever wanted to cry—IT'S NOW.” + </p> + <p> + In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his lips, + Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and looked south, + back over the trail he had followed through the blackness and storm of + night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada in Father John's cabin, urging + Peter out into the wild tumult of thunder and lightning with that precious + part of her which she knew he would love forever. Her last message to him. + Her last promise of love and faith until the end of time. + </p> + <p> + He guessed only the beginning of the truth. And Peter, denied the power of + thought transmission because of an error in the creation of things, ran + back a little way over the trail, trying to tell his master that Nada had + come with him through the storm, and was back in the deep forest calling + for him to return. + </p> + <p> + But McKay's mind saw nothing beyond the dimly lighted room of the + Missioner's cabin. + </p> + <p> + He pressed his lips to the silken tress of Nada's hair, still damp with + the rain; and after that, with the care of a miser he smoothed it out, and + tied the end of the tress tightly with a string, and put it away in the + soft buckskin wallet which he carried. + </p> + <p> + There was a new singing in his heart as he gathered sticks with which to + build a small fire, for after this he would not travel quite alone. + </p> + <p> + That day they went on; and day followed day, until August came, and north—still + farther north they went into the illimitable wilderness which reached out + in the drowsing stillness of the Flying-up-Month—the month when + newly fledged things take to their wings, and the deep forests lie asleep. + </p> + <p> + Days added themselves into weeks, until at last they were in the country + of the Reindeer waterways. + </p> + <p> + To the east was Hudson's Bay; westward lay the black forests and twisting + waterways of Upper Saskatchewan; and north—always north—beckoned + the lonely plains and unmapped wildernesses of the Athabasca, the Slave + and the Great Bear—toward which far country their trail was slowly + but surely wending its way. + </p> + <p> + The woodlands and swamps were now empty of man. Cabin and shack and Indian + tepee were lifeless, and waited in the desolation of abandonment. No smoke + rose in the tree-tops; no howl of dog came with the early dawn and the + setting sun; trap lines were over-growing, and laughter and song and the + ring of the trapper's axe were gone, leaving behind a brooding silence + that seemed to pulse and thrill like a great heart—the heart of the + wild unchained for a space from its human bondage. + </p> + <p> + It was the vacation time—the midsummer carnival weeks of the + wilderness people. Wild things were breeding. Fur was not good. Flesh was + unfit to kill. And so they had disappeared, man, woman and child, and + their dogs as well, to foregather at the Hudson's Bay Company's posts + scattered here and there in the fastnesses of the wilderness lands. A few + weeks more and they would return. Cabins would send up their smoke again. + Brown-faced children would play about the tepee door. Ten thousand + dwellers of the forests, white and half-breed and Indian born, would + trickle in twos and threes and family groups back into the age-old trade + of a domain that reached from Hudson's Bay to the western mountains and + from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. + </p> + <p> + Until then nature was free, and in its freedom ran in riotous silence over + the land. These were days when the wolf lay with her young, but did not + howl; when the lynx yawned sleepily, and hunted but little—days of + breeding, nights of drowsy whisperings, and of big red moons, and of + streams rippling softly at lowest ebb while they dreamed of rains and + flood-time. And through it all—through the lazy drone of insects, + the rustling sighs of the tree-tops and the subdued notes of living things + ran a low and tremulous whispering, as if nature had found for itself a + new language in this temporary absence of man. + </p> + <p> + To Jolly Roger this was Life, It breathed for him out of the cool earth. + He heard it over him, and under him, and on all sides of him where other + ears would have found only a thing vast and oppressive and silent. On what + he called these “motherhood days of the earth” the passing years had built + his faith and his creed. + </p> + <p> + One evening he stopped for camp at the edge of the Burntwood. From his + feet reached out the wide river, ankle deep in places, knee deep in + others, rippling and singing between sandbars and driftwood where in May + and June it had roared with the fury of flood Peter, half asleep after + their day's travel through a hot forests watched his master. Since their + flight from the edge of civilization far south he had grown heavier and + broadened out. The hardship of adventuring and the craft of fighting for + food and life had whipped the last of his puppyhood behind him At six + months of age he was scarred, and lithe-muscled, and ready for instant + action at all times. Through the mop of Airedale whiskers that covered his + face his bright eyes were ever alert, and always they watched the + back-trail as he wondered why the slim, blue-eyed girl they both loved and + missed so much did not come. And vaguely he wondered why it was that his + master always went on and on, and never waited for her to catch up with + them. + </p> + <p> + And Jolly Roger was changed. He was not the plump and rosy-faced + wilderness freebooter who whistled and sang away down at Cragg's Ridge + even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness of their flight + had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in his face. But in his + clear eyes was still the love of life—a thing even stronger than the + grief which was eating at his heart as their trail reached steadily toward + the Barren Lands. + </p> + <p> + In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes saw his + master draw forth their treasure. + </p> + <p> + It was something he had come to look for, and expect—once, twice, + and sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the setting of the + sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight for the day, Jolly + Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. Peter drew nearer to where + his master was sitting with his back to the big rock, and his eyes + glistened. Always he caught the sweet, illusive perfume of the girl when + Jolly Roger drew out their preciously guarded package. He unwrapped it + gently now, and in a moment held in his hands the tress of Nada's hair, + the last of her they would ever possess or see. And Peter wondered again + why they did not go back to where they had left the rest of the girl. Many + times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, Jolly Roger had tried to + make him understand. And Peter tried to comprehend. But always in his + dreams he was with the girl he loved, following her, playing with her, + fighting for her, hearing her voice—feeling the touch of her hand. + In his dog soul he wanted her, just as Jolly Roger wanted her with all the + yearning and heartbreak of the man. Yet always when he awoke from his + dreams they went on again—not south—but north. To Peter this + was hopeless mystery, and he possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor + could he speak in words the message which he carried in his heart—that + last crying agony of the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of + Roger McKay, entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would + always love in spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the world. + </p> + <p> + That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his master + crying out Nada's name in his sleep. + </p> + <p> + And the next dawn they went on—still farther north. + </p> + <p> + In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness about + him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were struggling to + break down the first law of his creed. The law might catch him, and + probably would, and when it caught him the law might hang him—and + probably would. But it would never KNOW him. There was something grimly + and tragically humorous in this. It would never know of the consuming + purity of his worship for little children, and old people—and women. + It would laugh at the religion he had built up for himself, and it would + cackle tauntingly if he dared to say he was not wholly bad. For it + believed he was bad, and it believed he had killed Jed Hawkins, and he + knew that seven hundred men were anxious to get him, dead or alive. + </p> + <p> + But was he bad? + </p> + <p> + He took the matter up one evening, with Peter. + </p> + <p> + “If I'm bad, mebby it isn't all my fault, Pied-Bot,” he said. “Mebby it's + this—” and he swept his arms out to the gathering night. “I was born + in the open, on a night just like this is going to be. My mother, before + she died, told me many times how she watched the moon come up that night, + and how it seemed to look down on her, and talk to her, like a living + thing. And I've loved the moon ever since, and the sun, and everything + that's outdoors—and if there's a God I don't believe He ever + intended man to make a law that wasn't right according to the plans He + laid out. That's where I've got in wrong, Pied-Bot, I haven't always + believed in man-made law, and I've settled a lot of things in my own way. + And I guess I've loved trees and flowers and sunshine and wind and storm + too much. I've just wandered. And I've done things along the way. The + thrill of it got into me, Pied-Bot, and—the law wants me!” + </p> + <p> + Peter heard the subdued humor of the man, a low laugh that held neither + fear nor regret. + </p> + <p> + “It was the Treaty Money first,” he went on, leaning very seriously toward + Peter, as if he expected an argument. “You see, Yellow Bird was in that + particular tribe, Pied-Bot. I remember her as she looked to me when a boy, + with her two long, shining black braids and her face that was almost as + beautiful to me as my mother's. My mother loved her, and she loved my + mother, and I loved Yellow Bird, just as a child loves a fairy. And always + Yellow Bird has been my fairy, Peter. I guess child worship is the one + thing that lasts through life, always remaining ideal, and never + forgotten. Years after my mother's death, when I was a young man, and had + been down to Montreal and Ottawa and Quebec, I went back to Yellow Bird's + tribe. And it was starving, Pied-Bot. Starving to death!” + </p> + <p> + Reminiscent tenderness and humor were gone from McKay's voice. It was hard + and flinty. + </p> + <p> + “It was winter,” he continued, “the dead of winter. And cold. So cold that + even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in. No fish that autumn, + no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were starving. Pied-Bot, my + heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird. There didn't seem to be anything + left of her but her eyes and her hair—those two great, shining + braids, and eyes that were big and deep and dark, like beautiful pools. + Boy, you never saw an Indian—an Indian like Yellow Bird—cry. + They don't cry very much. But when that childhood fairy of mine first saw + me she just stood there, swaying in her weakness, and the tears filled + those big, wide-open eyes and ran down her thin cheeks. She had married + Slim Buck. Two of their three children had died within a fortnight. Slim + Buck was dying of hunger and exhaustion. And Yellow Bird's heart was + broken, and her soul was crying out for God to let her lie down beside + Slim Buck and die with him—when I happened along. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—” Jolly Roger leaned over in the thickening dusk, and his + eyes gleamed. “Peter, if there's a God, an' He thinks I did wrong then, + let Him strike me dead right here! I'm willin'. I found out what the + trouble was. There was a new Indian Agent, a cur. And near the tribe was a + Free Trader, another cur. The two got together. The Agent sent up the + Treaty Money, and along with it—underground, mind you—he sent + a lot of whiskey to the Free Trader. Inside of five days the whiskey got + the Treaty Money from the Indians. Then came winter. Everything went bad, + When I came—and found out what had happened—eighteen out of + sixty had died, and inside of another two weeks half the others would + follow. Pied-Bot, away back—somewhere—there must have been a + pirate before me—mebby a great-grandfather of mine. I set out, I + came back in three days, and I had a sledge-load of grub, and warm things + to wear—plenty of them. My God, how those starving things did eat! I + went again, and returned in another week, with a still bigger sledge-load. + And Yellow Bird was getting beautiful again, and Slim Buck was on his + feet, growing strong, and there was happiness—and I think God + A'mighty was glad. I kept it up for two months. Then the back-bone of the + winter broke. Game came into the country I left them well supplied—and + skipped. That was what made me an outlaw, Pied-Bot. That!” + </p> + <p> + He chuckled, and Peter heard the rubbing of his hands in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Want to know why?” he asked. “Well, you see, I went over to the Free + Trader's, and this God the law don't take into account went with me, and + we found the skunk alone. First I licked him until he was almost dead. + Then, sticking a knife into him about half an inch, I made him write a + note saying he was called south suddenly, and authorizing me to take + charge in his absence. Then I chained him in a dugout in a place where + nobody would find him. And I took charge. Pied-Bot, I sure did! Everybody + was on the trap-lines, and I wasn't bothered much by callers. And I fed + and clothed my tribe for eight straight weeks, fed 'em until they grew + fat, Boy—and Yellow Bird's eyes were bright as stars again. Then I + brought Roach—that was his name—back to his empty post, and I + lectured him, an' gave him another licking—and left.” + </p> + <p> + McKay rose to his feet. The first stars were peeping out of the velvety + darkness of the sky, and Peter heard his master draw in a deep breath—the + breath of a man whose lungs rejoice in the glory of life. + </p> + <p> + After a moment he said, + </p> + <p> + “And the Royal Mounted have been after me ever since that winter, Peter. + And the harder they've chased me the more I've given them reason to chase + me. I half killed Beaudin, the Government mail-runner, because he insulted + another man's wife when that man—my friend—was away. Then + Beaudin, seeing his chance, robbed the mail himself, and the crime was + laid to me. Well, I got even, and stuck up a mail-sledge myself—but + I guess there was a good reason for it. I've done a lot of things since + then, but I've done it all with my naked fists, and I've never put a + bullet or a knife into a man except Roach the Free Trader. And the + funniest thing of the whole business, Pied-Bot, is this—I didn't + kill Jed Hawkins. Some day mebby I'll tell you about what happened on the + trail, the thing which you and Nada didn't see. But now—” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood very still, and Peter sensed the sudden thrill that + was going through the man as he stood there in darkness. And then, + suddenly, Jolly Roger bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, there's three women we'll love as long as we live,” he whispered. + “There's my mother, and she is dead. There's Nada back there, and we'll + never see her again—” His voice choked for an instant. “And then—there's + Yellow Bird—” he added. “It's five years since I fed the tribe. + Mebby they've had more kids! Boy, let's go and see!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + North and west, in the direction of Yellow Bird's people, went Jolly Roger + and Peter after that night. They traveled slowly and cautiously, and with + each day Peter came to understand more clearly there was some reason why + they must be constantly on their guard. His master, he noticed, was + thrillingly attentive whenever a sound came to their ears—perhaps + the cracking of a twig, a mysterious movement of brush, or the tread of a + cloven hoof. And instinctively he came to know they were evading Man. He + remembered vividly their escape from Cassidy and their quiet hiding for + many days in the mass of sun-baked rocks which Jolly Roger had called the + Stew-Kettle. The same vigilance seemed to be a part of his master's + movements now. He did not laugh, or sing, or whistle, or talk loudly. He + built fires so small that at first Peter was absorbed in an almost + scientific analysis of them; and instead of shooting game which could have + been easily secured he set little snares in the evening, and caught fish + in the streams. At night they always slept half a mile or more from the + place where they had built their tiny supper-fire. And during these hours + of sleep Peter was ready to rouse himself at the slightest sound of + movement near them. Scarcely a night passed that his low growl of warning + did not bring Jolly Roger out of his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his + eyes and ears wide open. + </p> + <p> + Whether he would have used the gun had the red-coated police suddenly + appeared, McKay had not quite assured himself. Day after day the same old + fight went on within him. He analyzed his situation from every point of + view, and always—no matter how he went about it—eventually + found himself face to face with the same definite fact. If the law + succeeded in catching Him it would not trouble itself to punish him for + stealing back the Treaty Money, or for holding up Government mails, or for + any of his other misdemeanors. It would hang him for the murder of Jed + Hawkins. And the minions of the law would laugh at the truth, even if he + told it—which he never would. More than once his imaginative genius + had drawn up a picture of that impossible happening. For it was a truth so + inconceivable that he found the absurdity of it a grimly humorous thing. + Even Nada believed he had killed her scoundrelly foster-father. Yet it was + she—herself—who had killed him! And it was Nada whom the law + would hang, if the truth was known—and believed. + </p> + <p> + Frequently he went back over the scenes of that tragic night at Cragg's + Ridge when all the happiness in the world seemed to be offering itself to + him—the night when Nada was to go with him to the Missioner's, to + become his wife, And then—the dark trail—the disheveled girl + staggering to him through the starlight, and her sobbing story of how Jed + Hawkins had tried to drag her through the forest to Mooney's cabin, and + how—at last—she had saved herself by striking him down with a + stick which she had caught up out of the darkness. Would the police + believe HIM—an outlaw—if he told the rest of the story?—how + he had gone back to give Jed Hawkins the beating of his life, and had + found him dead in the trail, where Nada had struck him down? Would they + believe him if, in a moment of cowardice, he told them that to protect the + girl he loved he had fastened the responsibility of the crime upon + himself? No, they would not. He had made the evidence too complete. The + world would call him a lying yellow-back if he betrayed what had actually + happened on the trail between Cragg's Ridge and Mooney's cabin. + </p> + <p> + And this, after all, was the one remaining bit of happiness in Jolly + Roger's heart, the knowledge that he had made the evidence utterly + complete, and that Nada would never know, and the world would never know—the + truth. His love for the blue-eyed girl-woman who had given her heart and + her soul into his keeping, even when she knew he was an outlaw, was an + undying thing, like his love for the mother of years ago. “It will be easy + to die for her,” he told Peter, and this, in the end, was what he knew he + was going to do. Thought of the inevitable did not make him afraid. He was + determined to keep his freedom and his life as long as he could, but he + was fatalistic enough, and sufficiently acquainted with the Royal + Northwest Mounted Police, to know what the ultimate of the thing would be. + And yet, with tragedy behind him, and a still grimmer tragedy ahead, the + soul of Jolly Roger was not dead or in utter darkness. In it, waking and + sleeping, he enshrined the girl who had been willing to give up all other + things in the world for him, who had pleaded with him in the last hour of + storm down on the edge of civilization that she be given the privilege of + accompanying him wherever his fate might lead. That he was an outlaw had + not destroyed her faith in him. That he had killed a man—a man unfit + to live—had only drawn her arms more closely about him, and had made + her more completely a part of him. And a thousand times the maddening + thought possessed Jolly Roger—was he wrong, and not right, in + refusing to accept the love and companionship which she had begged him to + accept, in spite of all that had happened and all that might happen? + </p> + <p> + Day by day he slowly won for himself, and at last, as they traveled in the + direction of Yellow Bird's country, he crushed the final doubt that + oppressed him, and knew that he was right. In his selfishness he had not + shackled her to an outlaw. He had left her free. Life and hope and other + happiness were ahead of her. He had not destroyed her, and this thought + would strengthen him and leave something of gladness in his heart, even in + that gray dawn when the law would compel him to make his final sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + It is a strange peace which follows grief, a secret happiness no other + soul but one can understand. Out of it excitement and passion have been + burned, and it is then the Great God of things comes more closely into the + possession of his own. And now, as they went westward and north toward the + Wollaston Lake country, this peace possessed Jolly Roger. It mellowed his + world. It was half an ache, half a steady and undying pain, but it drew + Life nearer to him than he had ever known it before. His love for the sun + and the sky, for the trees and flowers and all growing things of the earth + was more worship of the divine than a love for physical things, and each + day he felt it drawing more closely about him in its comradeship, + whispering to him of its might, and of its power to care for him in the + darkest hours of stress that might come. + </p> + <p> + He did not travel fast after he had reached the decision to go to Yellow + Bird's people. And he tried to imagine, a great deal of the time, that + Nada was with him. He succeeded in a way that bewildered Peter, for quite + frequently the man talked to someone who was not there. + </p> + <p> + The slowness and caution with which they traveled developed Peter's mental + faculties with marvelous swiftness. His master, free of egoism and + prejudice, had placed him on a plane of intimate equality, and Peter + struggled each day to live up a little more to the responsibility of this + intimacy and confidence. Instinct, together with human training, taught + him woodcraft until in many ways he was more clever than his master. And + along with this Jolly Roger slowly but surely impressed upon him the + difference between wanton slaughter and necessary killing. + </p> + <p> + “Everything that's got a breath of life must kill—up to a certain + point,” Jolly Roger explained to him, repeating the lesson over and over. + “And that isn't wrong, Peter. The sin is in killing when you don't have + to. See that tree over there, with a vine as big as my wrist winding + around it, like a snake? Well, that vine is choking the life out of the + tree, and in time the tree will die. But the vine is doing just what God + A'mighty meant it to do. It needs a tree to live on. But I'm going to cut + the vine, because I think more of the tree than I do the vine. That's MY + privilege—following my conscience. And we're eating young partridges + tonight, because we had to have something to keep us alive. It's the + necessity of the thing that counts, Peter. Think you can understand that?” + </p> + <p> + It was pretty hard for Peter at first, but he was observant, and his mind + worked quickly. The crime of destroying birdlings in their nest, or on the + ground, was impressed upon him. He began to understand there was a certain + humiliating shame attached to an attack upon a creature weaker than + himself, unless there was a reason for it. He looked chiefly to his master + for decisions in the matter. Snowshoe rabbits, young and half grown, were + very tame in this month of August, and ordinarily he would have destroyed + many of them in a day's travel. But unless Jolly Roger gave him a signal, + or he was hungry, he would pass a snowshoe unconcernedly. This phase of + Peter's development interested Jolly Roger greatly. The outlaw's + philosophy had not been punctured by the egotistical “I am the only + reasoning being” arguments of narrow-gauged nature scientists. He believed + that Peter possessed not only a brain and super-instinct, but also a very + positive reasoning power which he was helping to develop. And the process + was one that fascinated him. When he was not sleeping, or traveling, or + teaching Peter he was usually reading the wonderful little red volumes of + history which he had purloined from the mail sledge up near the Barren + Lands. He knew their contents nearly by heart. His favorites were the + life-stories of Napoleon, Margaret of Anjou, and Peter the Great, and + always when he compared his own troubles with the difficulties and + tragedies over which these people had triumphed he felt a new courage and + inspiration, and faced the world with better cheer. If Nature was his God + and Bible, and Nada his Angel, these finger-worn little books written by a + man half a century dead were voices out of the past urging him on to his + best. Their pages were filled with the vivid lessons of sacrifice, of + courage and achievement, of loyalty, honor and dishonor—and of the + crashing tragedy which comes always with the last supreme egoism and + arrogance of man. He marked the dividing lines, and applied them to + himself. And he told Peter of his conclusions. He felt a consuming + tenderness for the glorious Margaret of Anjou, and his heart thrilled one + day when a voice seemed to whisper to him out of the printed page that + Nada was another Margaret—only more wonderful because she was not a + princess and a queen. + </p> + <p> + “The only difference,” he explained to Peter, “is that Margaret sacrificed + and fought and died for a king, and our Nada is willing to do all that for + a poor beggar of an outlaw. Which makes Margaret a second-rater compared + with Nada,” he added. “For Margaret wanted a kingdom along with her + husband, and Nada would take—just you and me. And that's where we're + pulling some Peter the Great stuff,” he tried to laugh. “We won't let her + do it!” + </p> + <p> + And so they went on, day after day, toward the Wollaston waterways—the + country of Yellow Bird and her people. + </p> + <p> + It was early September when they crossed the Geikie and struck up the + western shore of Wollaston Lake. The first golden tints were ripening in + the canoe-birch leaves, and the tremulous whisper of autumn was in the + rustle of the aspen trees. The poplars were yellowing, the ash were blood + red with fruit, and in cool, dank thickets wild currants were glossy black + and lusciously ripe. It was the season which Jolly Roger loved most of + all, and it was the beginning of Peter's first September. The days were + still hot, but at night there was a bracing something in the air that + stirred the blood, and Peter found a sharp, new note in the voices of the + wild. The wolf howled again in the middle of the night. The loon forgot + his love-sickness, and screamed raucous defiance at the moon. The big + snowshoes were no longer tame, but wary and alert, and the owls seemed to + slink deeper into darkness and watch with more cunning. And Jolly Roger + knew the human masters of the wilderness were returning from the Posts to + their cabins and trap-lines, and he advanced with still greater caution. + And as he went, watching for smoke and listening for sound, he began to + reflect upon the many changes which five years might have produced among + Yellow Bird's people. Possibly other misfortunes had come, other winters + of hunger and pestilence, scattering and destroying the tribe. It might + even be that Yellow Bird was dead. + </p> + <p> + For three days he followed slowly the ragged shore of Wollaston Lake, and + foreboding of evil was oppressing him when he came upon the fish-racks of + the Indians. They had been abandoned for many days, for black bear tracks + fairly inundated the place, and Peter saw two of the bears—fat and + unafraid—nosing along the shore where the fish offal had been + thrown. + </p> + <p> + It was the next day, in the hour before sunset, that Jolly Roger and Peter + came out on the edge of a shelving beach where Indian children were + playing in the white sand. Among these children, playing and laughing with + them, was a woman. She was tall and slim, with a skirt of soft buckskin + that came only a little below her knees, and two shining black braids + which tossed like velvety ropes when she ran. And she was running when + they first saw her—running away from them, pursued by the children; + and then she twisted suddenly, and came toward them, until with a startled + cry she stopped almost within the reach of Jolly Roger's hands. Peter was + watching. He saw the half frightened look in her face, then the slow + widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake of her breath. And in that + moment Jolly Roger cried out a name. + </p> + <p> + “Yellow Bird!” + </p> + <p> + He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years had + touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out her hands to + him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and Peter wondered what it + was all about as he cautiously eyed the half dozen brown-faced little + Indian children who had now gathered quietly about them. In another moment + there was an interruption. A girl came through the fringe of willows + behind them. It was as if another Yellow Bird had come to puzzle Peter—the + same slim, graceful little body, the same shining eyes, and yet she was + half a dozen years younger than Nada. For the first time Peter was looking + at Sun Cloud, the daughter of Yellow Bird. And in that moment he loved + her, just as something gave him confidence and faith in the starry-eyed + woman whose hands were in his master's. Then Yellow Bird called, and the + girl went to her mother, and Jolly Roger hugged her in his arms and kissed + her on the scarlet mouth she turned up to him. Then they hurried along the + shore toward the fishing camp, the children racing ahead to tell the news, + led by Sun Cloud—with Peter running at her heels. + </p> + <p> + Never had Peter heard anything from a man's throat like the two yells that + came from Slim Buck, Yellow Bird's husband and chief of the tribe, after + he had greeted Jolly Roger McKay. It was a note harking back to the old + war trails of the Crees, and what followed it that night was most exciting + to Peter. Big fires were built of white driftwood, and there was singing + and dancing, and a great deal of laughter and eating, and the interminable + howling of half a hundred Siwash dogs. Peter did not like the dogs, but he + did no fighting because his love for Sun Cloud kept him close to the touch + of her little brown hand. + </p> + <p> + That night, in the glow of the big fire outside of Slim Buck's tepee, + Jolly Roger's heart thrilled with a pleasure which it had not known for a + long time. He loved to look at Yellow Bird. Five years had not changed + her. Her eyes were starry bright. Her teeth were like milk. The color + still came and went in her brown cheeks, even as it did in Sun Cloud's. + All of which, in this heart of a wilderness, meant that she had been happy + and prosperous. And he also loved to look at Sun Cloud, who possessed all + of that rare wildflower beauty sometimes given to the northern Crees. And + it did him good to look at Slim Buck. He was a splendid mate, and a royal + father, and Jolly Roger found himself strangely happy in their happiness. + In the eyes of men and women and little children he saw that happiness all + about him. For three winters there had been splendid trapping, Slim Buck + told him, and this season they had caught and dried enough fish to carry + them through the following winter, even if black days should come. His + people were rich. They had many warm blankets, and good clothes, and the + best of tepees and guns and sledges, and several treasures besides. Two of + these Yellow Bird and her husband disclosed to Jolly Roger this first + night. One of them was a sewing machine, and the other—a phonograph! + And Jolly Roger listened to “Mother Machree” and “The Rosary” that night + as he sat by Wollaston Lake with six hundred miles of wilderness between + him and Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the camp slept, Yellow Bird and Slim Buck and Jolly Roger + still sat beside the red embers of their fire, and Jolly Roger told of + what had happened down at the edge of civilization. It was what his heart + needed, and he left out none of the details. Slim Buck was listening, but + Jolly Roger knew he was talking straight at Yellow Bird, and that her warm + heart was full of understanding. Softly, in that low Cree voice which is + the sweetest of all voices, she asked him many questions about Nada, and + gently her slim fingers caressed the tress of Nada's hair which he let her + take in her hands. And after a long time, she said. + </p> + <p> + “I have given her a name. She is Oo-Mee, the Pigeon.” + </p> + <p> + Slim Buck started at the strange note in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “The Pigeon,” he repeated, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Oo-Mee, the Pigeon,” Yellow Bird nodded. She was not looking at + them. In the firelight her eyes were glowing pools. Her body had grown a + little tense. Without asking Jolly Roger's permission she placed the tress + of Nada's hair in her bosom. “Oo-Mee, the Pigeon,” she said again, looking + far away. “That is her name, because the Pigeon flies fast and straight + and true. Over forests and lakes and worlds the Pigeon flies. It is + tireless. It is swift. It always—flies home.” + </p> + <p> + Slim Buck rose quietly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he whispered, looking at Jolly Roger, + </p> + <p> + Yellow Bird did not look at them or speak to them, and Slim Buck—with + his hand on Jolly Roger's arm—pulled him gently away. In his eyes + was a little something of fear, and yet along with it a sublime faith. + </p> + <p> + “Her spirit will be with Oo-Mee, the Pigeon, tonight,” he said in a voice + struck with awe. “It will go to this place which you have described, and + it will live in the body of the girl, and through Yellow Bird it will tell + you tomorrow what has happened, and what is going to happen.” + </p> + <p> + In the edge of the shore-willows Jolly Roger stood for a time watching + Yellow Bird as she sat under the stars, motionless as a figure graven out + of stone. He felt a curious tingling at his heart, something stirring + uneasily in his breast, and he stood alone even after Slim Buck had + stretched himself out in the soft sand to sleep. He was not superstitious. + Yet it was equally a part of his philosophy and his creed to believe in + the overwhelming power of the mind. “If you have faith enough, and think + hard enough, you can think anything until it comes true,” he had told + himself more than once. And he knew Yellow Bird possessed that illimitable + faith, and that behind her divination lay generations and centuries of an + unbreakable certainty in the power of mind over matter. He realized his + own limitations, but a mysterious voice in the still night seemed + whispering to him that in the crude wisdom of Yellow Bird's brain lay the + secret to strange achievement, and that on this night her mind might + perform for him what he, in his greater wisdom, would call a miracle. He + had seen things like that happen. And he sat down in the sand, sleepless, + and with Peter at his feet waited for Yellow Bird to stir. + </p> + <p> + He could see the dull shimmer of starlight in her hair, but the rest of + her was a shadow that gave no sign of life. The camp was asleep. Even the + dogs were buried in their wallows of sand, and the last red spark of the + fires had died out. The hour passed, and another hour followed, and the + lids of Jolly Roger's eyes grew heavier as the fading stars seemed to be + sinking deeper into infinity. At last he slept, with his back leaning + against a sand-dune the children had made. He dreamed, and was flying + through the air with Yellow Bird. She was traveling swift and straight, + like an arrow, and he had difficulty in keeping up with her, and at last + he cried out for her to wait—that he could go no farther. The cry + roused him. He opened his eyes, and found cool, gray dawn in the sky. + Peter, alert, was muzzling his hand. Slim Buck lay in the sand, still + asleep. There was no stir in the camp. And then, with a sudden catch in + his breath, he looked toward Yellow Bird's tepee. + </p> + <p> + Yellow Bird still sat in the sand. Through the hours of fading starlight + and coming dawn she had not moved. Slowly McKay rose to his feet. When he + came to her, making no sound, she looked up. The shimmer of glistening dew + was in her hair. Her long lashes were wet with it. Her face was very pale, + and her eyes so large and dark that for a moment they startled him. She + was tired. Exhaustion was in her slim, limp body. + </p> + <p> + A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders swayed a little. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Neekewa,” she whispered, drawing the ropes of her hair about + her as if she were cold. + </p> + <p> + Then she drew a slim hand over her eyes, and shivered. + </p> + <p> + “It is well, Neekewa,” she spoke softly. “I have gone through the clouds + to where lives Oo-Mee, the Pigeon. I found her crying in a trail. I + whispered to her and happiness came, and that happiness is going to live—for + Neekewa and The Pigeon. It cannot die. It cannot be killed. The Red Coated + men of the Great White Father will never destroy it. You will live. She + will live. You will meet again—in happiness. And happiness will + follow ever after. That much I learned, Neekewa. In happiness—you + will meet again.” + </p> + <p> + “Where? When?” whispered Jolly Roger, his heart beating with sudden + swiftness. + </p> + <p> + Again Yellow Bird passed her hand over her eyes, and as she held it there + for a moment she bowed her head until Jolly Roger could see only her + dew-wet hair and she said, + </p> + <p> + “In the Country Beyond, Neekewa.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were looking at him again, big, dark and filled with mystery. + </p> + <p> + “And where is this country, Yellow Bird?” he asked, a strange chill + driving the warmth out of his heart. “You mean—up there?” And he + pointed to the gray sky above them. + </p> + <p> + “No, it is happiness to come in life, not in death,” said Yellow Bird + slowly. “It is not beyond the stars. It is—” + </p> + <p> + He waited, leaning toward her. + </p> + <p> + “In the Country Beyond,” she repeated with a tired little droop of her + head. “And where that is I do not know, Neekewa. I could not pass beyond + the great white cloud that shut me out. But it is—somewhere, I will + find it. And then I will tell you—and The Pigeon.” + </p> + <p> + She stood up, and swayed in the gray light, like one worn out by hard + travel. Then she passed into the tepee, and Jolly Roger heard her fall on + her blanket-bed. + </p> + <p> + And still stranger whisperings filled his heart as he faced the east, + where the first red blush of day drove back the star-mists of dawn. He + heard a step in the soft sand, and Slim Buck stood beside him. And he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of the Country Beyond?” Slim Buck shook his head, and + both looked in silence toward the rising sun. + </p> + <p> + Peter was glad when the camp roused itself out of sleep with waking + voices, and laughter, and the building of fires. He waited eagerly for Sun + Cloud. At last she came out of Yellow Bird's tepee, rubbing her eyes in + the face of the glow in the east, and then her white teeth flashed a smile + of welcome at him. Together they ran down to the edge of the lake, and + Peter wagged his tail while Sun Cloud went out knee-deep and scrubbed her + pretty face with handfuls of the cool water. It was a happy day for him. + He was different from the Indian dogs, and Sun Cloud and her playmates + made much of him. But never, even in their most exciting play, did he + entirely lose track of his master. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger, to an extent, forgot Peter. He tried to deaden within him the + impulses which Yellow Bird's conjuring had roused. He tried to see in them + a menace and a danger, and he repeated to himself the folly of placing + credence in Yellow Bird's “medicine.” But his efforts were futile, and he + was honest enough to admit it. The uneasiness was in his breast. A new + hope was rising up. And with that hope were fear and suspense, for deep in + him was growing stronger the conviction that what Yellow Bird would tell + him would be true. He noted the calm and dignified stiffness with which + Slim Buck greeted the day. The young chief passed quietly among his + people. A word traveled in whispers, voices and footsteps were muffled and + before the sun was an hour high there was no tepee standing but one on + that white strip of beach. And the one tepee was Yellow Bird's, + </p> + <p> + Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird come out + into the day. She saw the food placed at her tepee door. She saw the empty + places where the homes of her people had stood, and in the wet sand of the + beach the marks of their missing canoes. Then she turned her pale face and + tired eyes to the sun, and unbraided her hair so that it streamed + glistening all about her and covered the white sand when she sat down + again in front of the smoke-darkened canvas that had become her conjurer's + house. + </p> + <p> + Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp. But Slim Buck + and Jolly Roger remained in the cover of a wooded headland only half a + mile from Yellow Bird. They saw her when she came out. They watched for an + hour after she sat down in the sand. And then Slim Buck grunted, and with + a gesture of his hands said they would go. Jolly Roger protested. It was + not safe for Yellow Bird to remain entirely beyond their protection. There + were bears prowling about. And human beasts occasionally found their way + through the wilderness. But Slim Buck's face was like a bronze carving in + its faith and pride. + </p> + <p> + “Yellow Bird only goes with the good spirits,” he assured Jolly Roger. + “She does not do witchcraft with the bad. And no harm can come while the + good spirits are with her. It is thus she has brought us happiness and + prosperity since the days of the famine, Neekewa!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke these words in Cree, and McKay answered him in Cree as they + turned in the direction of the camp. Half way, Sun Cloud came to meet + them, with Peter at her side. She put a brown little hand in Jolly + Roger's. It was quite new and pleasant to be kissed as Jolly Roger had + kissed her, and she held up her mouth to him again. Then she ran ahead, + with Peter yipping foolishly and happily at her moccasined heels. + </p> + <p> + And Jolly Roger said, + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was your brother, Slim Buck, and Nada was Yellow Bird's sister—and + that I had many like her,” and his eyes followed Sun Cloud with hungry + yearning. + </p> + <p> + And as he said these words, Yellow Bird sat with bowed head and closed + eyes, with the soft tress of Nada's hair in her hands. It was the physical + union between them, and all that day, and the night that followed, Yellow + Bird held it in her hand or against her breast as she struggled to send + out the soul that was in her on its mission to Oo-Mee the Pigeon. In + darkness she buried the food that was left her, and stamped on it with her + feet. The sacrifice of her body had begun, and for two days thereafter + Jolly Roger and Slim Buck saw no movement of life about the lone tepee in + the sand. + </p> + <p> + But the third morning they saw the smoke of a little greenwood fire rising + straight up from in front of it. + </p> + <p> + Slim Buck drew in a deep breath. It was the signal fire. + </p> + <p> + “She knows,” he said, pointing for Jolly Roger to go. “She is calling + you!” + </p> + <p> + The tenseness was gone from the bronze muscles of his face. He was lonely + without Yellow Bird, and the signal fire meant she would be with him again + soon. Jolly Roger walked swiftly over the white beach. Again he tried to + tell himself what folly it all was, and that he was answering the + signal-fire only to humor Yellow Bird and Slim Buck. But words, even + spoken half aloud, did not quiet the eager beating of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Not until he was very near did Yellow Bird come out of the tepee. And it + was then Jolly Roger stopped short, a gasp on his lips. She was changed. + Her radiant hair was still down, polished smooth; but her face was whiter + than he had ever seen it, and drawn and pinched almost as in the days of + the famine. For two days and two nights she had taken no food, and for two + days and two nights she had not slept. But there was triumph in her big, + wide-open eyes, and Jolly Roger felt something strange rising up in his + breast. + </p> + <p> + Yellow Bird held out her hands toward him. + </p> + <p> + “We have been together, The Pigeon and I,” she said. “We have slept in + each other's arms, and the warmth of her head has lain against my breast. + I have learned the secrets, Neekewa—all but one. The spirits will + not tell me where lies the Country Beyond. But it is not up there—beyond + the stars. It is not in death, but in life you will find it. That they + have told me. And you must not go back to where The Pigeon lives, for you + will find black desolation there—but always you must keep on and on, + seeking for the Country Beyond. You will find it. And there also you will + find The Pigeon—and happiness. You cannot fail, Neekewa, yet my + heart stings me that I cannot tell you where that strange country is. But + when I came to it gold and silver clouds shut it in, and I could see + nothing, and yet out of it came the singing of birds and the promise of + sweet voices that it shall be found—if you seek faithfully, Neekewa. + I am glad.” + </p> + <p> + Each word that she spoke in her soft and tremulous Cree was a new message + of hope in the empty heart of Jolly Roger McKay. The world might laugh. + Men might tap their heads and smile. His own voice might argue and taunt. + But deep in his heart he believed. + </p> + <p> + Something of the radiance of the new day came into his face, even as it + was returning into Yellow Bird's. He looked about him—east, west, + north and south—upon the sunlit glory of water and earth, and + suddenly he reached out his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I'll find it, Yellow Bird,” he cried. “I'll find this place you call the + Country Beyond! And when I do—” + </p> + <p> + He turned and took one of Yellow Bird's slim hands in both his own. + </p> + <p> + “And when I do, we'll come back to you, Yellow Bird,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And like a cavalier of old he touched his lips gently to the palm of + Yellow Bird's little brown hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird and Slim + Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back to his own + people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in Yellow Bird's + breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces of the old + softened when he came near and spoke to them; little children followed + him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to be kissed. For + the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home. The northland + Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, and the sun-filled days + and the starry nights seemed overflowing with the promise of all time. + Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and each day Slim Buck urged + him to remain with them always. + </p> + <p> + But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did not + urge. Each day and night she was watching—and waiting. + </p> + <p> + And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass. + </p> + <p> + It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it. This + restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body, still for + a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds in the sky and + the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, of unseen forces + chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressive lifelessness. + </p> + <p> + There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as if in + flight. + </p> + <p> + There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed. + </p> + <p> + In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the + wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness of + death enshrouding it. + </p> + <p> + At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was like + oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackened and + seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling the shore of + the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indian dogs. From + them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping of a jaw, and in + the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepees was the spell of + this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of itself. Men, women and + little children twisted and rolled, or lay awake, and weird and distorted + shapes and fancies came in dreams. + </p> + <p> + In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the gray + blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud, tossing + on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it lay across + her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with its silken + strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide awake, she was + thinking—thinking as Slim Buck—would never be able to think, + back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and when a + little white boy—the woman's son—had called Yellow Bird “my + fairy.” + </p> + <p> + In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's red lips + parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they were pleasing + days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly in her mind + until the day when the little boy—a man grown—came to save her + tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim Buck her + husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. The spirits + had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept her still + beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, and Slim + Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people were happy. And + all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the gloom of the sky + outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, “the little boy grown up”—Jolly + Roger McKay. + </p> + <p> + As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits were + whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster and her + eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to be accusing + her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay had come in that + winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almost killed, that she + and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That was the beginning, and + the thrill of it had got into the blood of Neekewa, her “little white + brother grown up.” And now he was out there, alone with his dog in the + night—and the red-coated avengers of the law were hunting him. They + wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the killing of a man. + </p> + <p> + Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid of Sun + Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let the soul go + out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, her white + brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done right to think of + killing. + </p> + <p> + Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than he + had already suffered—and that in the Country Beyond he would find + Nada the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did not + disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. But the + unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried to lift herself to + the whisperings above the tepee top. But they were unintelligible, like + many voices mingling, and with them came a dull fear into her soul. + </p> + <p> + She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, and + placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so quietly + that even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. Through the + tepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as if now she + might hear more clearly, and understand. + </p> + <p> + For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in the air, + and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there was no threat + of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, with starlight + breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of thunder or wail of + wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to stop its beating, and + her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She began to understand, and a + strange thrill crept into her. The spirits had put a great burden upon the + night so that it might drive sleep from her eyes. They were warning her. + They were telling her of danger, approaching swiftly, almost impending. + And it was peril for the white man who was sleeping somewhere near. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making no + sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston. + </p> + <p> + And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shone + through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flat + mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter was + wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bony + body was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, though he + heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of a + fugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent and + velvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. He, + too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this night of + stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless movements of + his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the name which he had + spoken three times in the last five minutes of his sleep. + </p> + <p> + It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the old way, + as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his hands struck + the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up. The sky had + cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in that starlight Jolly + Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. At first he thought it + was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raised to her. Then he saw it + was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes looking at him steadily and + strangely as he awakened. + </p> + <p> + He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It was + cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenly her + eyes swept from him out into the night. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Neekewa!” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the beating + of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Twice I have heard it,” she whispered then. “Neekewa, you must go!” + </p> + <p> + “Heard what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Something—I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And I + saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it all + about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is very + near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird.” + </p> + <p> + “And THAT!” she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. “That + sound—as if wood strikes on wood!” + </p> + <p> + “The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird.” + </p> + <p> + She drew her hand away. + </p> + <p> + “Neekewa, listen to me,” she importuned him in Cree. “The spirits have + made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloud twitches + and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying out the name of + Nada—Oo-Mee the Pigeon—when I came to you. I know. It is + danger. It is very near. And it is danger for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace were + coming to me, Yellow Bird,” reminded Jolly Roger. “The spirits, you said, + promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada again in that + strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spirits changed + their message, because the night is heavy?” + </p> + <p> + Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness. + </p> + <p> + “No, they have not changed,” she whispered. “They have spoken the truth. + They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. They have + tried to tell me where lies this place they call the Country Beyond—where + you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud always comes between. + And they are trying to tell me what the danger is off there—in the + darkness.” Suddenly she caught his arm. “Nee-kewa, DID YOU HEAR?” + </p> + <p> + “A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird.” + </p> + <p> + He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw Peter's + muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Pied-Bot?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter whimpered again. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me—the + red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a night + like this.” + </p> + <p> + “They are coming,” she replied. “I cannot hear or see, but they are + coming!” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers tightened. + </p> + <p> + “And they are near,” she cried softly. + </p> + <p> + “You are nervous, Yellow Bird,” he said, thinking of the two days and + three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor taken food, + that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. “There is no + danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you.” + </p> + <p> + “It has warned me,” she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue at + his side. “Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not forgotten + that winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine and sickness—when + I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes even in sleep, fearing + she would never open them again. They have not forgotten how all that + winter you robbed the white people over on the Des Chenes, that we might + live. If they remember those things, and lie, I would not be afraid to + curse them. But they do not lie.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange something + was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. She did not look + at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow notes of a bird, she + was saying: + </p> + <p> + “You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again for a + long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must believe. + Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The spirits have + said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the Pigeon—and + happiness. But if you go back to the place where you left The Pigeon when + you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will find only blackness + and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. If you disbelieve—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. + </p> + <p> + “You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it the + croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water. IT + WAS A PADDLE!” + </p> + <p> + In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a paddle,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. “Probably + it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird.” + </p> + <p> + She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out to him. + Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars, and for + an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips. + </p> + <p> + “Goodby, Neekewa,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly she + ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out again + with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched as Yellow + Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, and stood there, + waiting for the strange canoe to pass—or come in. It was + approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, but growing + clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it against the + star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. Before the canoe + reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the water and hailed + it. + </p> + <p> + A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped like a shot + beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. His master's + hand warned him, and together they slipped back into the shadows, and from + under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth his pack, and quietly + strapped it over his shoulders while he waited and listened. + </p> + <p> + And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly. + </p> + <p> + “It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?” + </p> + <p> + A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter—looking up—thought + for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphone of + his hands, and called very clearly out into the night. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?” + </p> + <p> + Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific danger. + There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no sound anywhere. + For a few moments a death-like stillness followed Jolly Roger's words. + </p> + <p> + Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the decisive + clearness of a bullet coming from a gun. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this is Cassidy—Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, + Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's me,” replied Jolly Roger. “Does the wager still hold, Cassidy?” + </p> + <p> + “It holds.” + </p> + <p> + There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again. + </p> + <p> + “Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!” + </p> + <p> + With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger and Peter + had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas. Cassidy's + Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes they listened + for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and last came Yellow + Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in their excitement. + Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, and suspicious of + something that was in her face. He went back to the beach. There he caught + himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp exclamation from his lips. + </p> + <p> + His canoe and outfit were gone! + </p> + <p> + Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter as + Yellow Bird ran to her tepee. + </p> + <p> + And from the mist of water—far out—came a voice, the voice of + Jolly Roger McKay. + </p> + <p> + “Goodby, Cassidy!” + </p> + <p> + With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog. + </p> + <p> + In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy head + close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up thankfully + to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the spirits had + whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still farther away, her + straining ears heard again the cry, + </p> + <p> + “Goodby, Cassidy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + In Cassidy's canoe, driving himself with steady strokes deeper into the + mystery of the starlit waters of Wollaston, Jolly Roger felt the night + suddenly filled with an exhilarating tonic. Its deadness was gone. Its + weight had lifted. A ripple broke the star gleams where an increasing + breeze touched the surface of the lake. And the thrill of adventure + stirred in his blood. He laughed as he put his skill and strength in the + sweep of his paddle, and for a time the thought that he was an outlaw, and + in losing Nada had lost everything in life worth righting for, was not so + oppressive. It was the old, joyous laugh, stirred by his sense of humor, + and the trick he had played on Cassidy. He could imagine Cassidy back on + the shore, his temper redder than his hair as he cursed and tore up the + sand in his search for another canoe. + </p> + <p> + “We're inseparable,” Jolly Roger explained to Peter. “Wherever I go, + Cassidy is sure to follow. You see, it's this way. A long time ago someone + gave Cassidy what they call an assignment, and in that assignment it says + 'go get Jolly Roger McKay, dead or alive'—or something to that + effect. And Cassidy has been on the job ever since. But he can't quite + catch up with me, Pied-Bot. I'm always a little ahead.” + </p> + <p> + And yet, even as he laughed, there was in Jolly Roger's heart a yearning + to which he had never given voice. Half a dozen times he might have killed + Cassidy, and an equal number of times Cassidy might have killed him. But + neither had taken advantage of the opportunity to destroy. They had played + the long and thrilling game like men, and because of the fairness and + sportsmanship of the man who hunted him Jolly Roger thought of Cassidy as + he might have thought of a brother, and more than once he yearned to go to + him, and hold out his hand in friendship. Yet he knew Corporal Cassidy was + the deadliest menace the earth held for him, a menace that had followed + him like a shadow through months and years—across the Barren Lands, + along the rim of the Arctic, down the Mackenzie, and back again—a + menace that never tired, and was never far behind in that ten thousand + miles of wilderness they had covered. Together in the bloodstirring game + of One against One they had faced the deadliest perils of the northland. + They had gone hungry, and cold, and more than once a thousand miles of + nothingness lay behind them, and death seemed preferable to anything that + might lie ahead. Yet in that aloneness, when companionship was more + precious than anything else on earth, neither had cried quits. The game + had gone on, Cassidy after his man—and Jolly Roger McKay fighting + for his freedom. + </p> + <p> + As he headed his canoe north and east, Jolly Roger thought again of the + wager made weeks ago down at Cragg's Ridge, when he had turned the tables + on Cassidy and when Cassidy had made a solemn oath to resign from the + service if he failed to get his man in their next encounter. He knew + Cassidy would keep his word, and something told him that tonight the last + act in this tragedy of two had begun. He chuckled again as he pictured the + probable course of events on shore. Cassidy, backed by the law, was + demanding another canoe and a necessary outfit of Slim Buck. Slim Buck, + falling back on his tribal dignity, was killing all possible time in + making the preparations. When pursuit was resumed Jolly Roger would have + at least a mile the start of the red-headed nemesis who hung to his trail. + And Wollaston Lake, sixty miles from end to end, and half as wide, offered + plenty of room in which to find safety. + </p> + <p> + The rising of the wind, which came from the south and west, was pleasing + to Jolly Roger, and he put less caution and more force into the sweep of + his paddle. For two hours he kept steadily eastward, and then swung a + little north, guiding himself by the stars. With the breaking of dawn he + made out the thickly wooded shore on the opposite side of the lake from + Slim Buck's camp, and before the sun was half an hour high he had drawn up + his canoe at the tip of a headland which gave him a splendid view of the + lake in all directions. + </p> + <p> + From this point, comfortably encamped in the cool shadows of a thick clump + of spruce, Jolly Roger and Peter watched all that day for a sign of their + enemy. As far as the eye could reach no movement of human life appeared on + the quiet surface of Wollaston. Not until that hazy hour between sunset + and dusk did he build a fire and cook a meal from the supplies in + Cassidy's pack, for he knew smoke could be discerned much farther than a + canoe. Yet even as he observed this caution he was confident there was no + longer any danger in returning to Yellow Bird and her people. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Pied-Bot,” he said, discussing the matter with Peter, while he + smoked a pipeful of tobacco in the early evening, “Cassidy thinks we're on + our way north, as fast as we can go. He'll hit for the upper end of the + Lake and the Black River waterway, and keep right on into the Porcupine + country. It's a big country up there, and we've always taken plenty of + space for our travels. Shall we go back to Yellow Bird, Peter? And Sun + Cloud?” + </p> + <p> + Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked the + questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He wanted to go + back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged by a great + loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his loss of Nada, and + understood how empty life had become for him. She had, in a way, become a + part of Nada; her presence raised him out of despair, her voice gave him + hope, her unconquerable spirit—fighting for his happiness—inspired + him until he saw light where there had been only darkness. The impelling + desire to return to her brought him to his feet and down to the pebbly + shore of the lake, where the water rippled softly in the thickening gloom. + But a still more powerful force held him back, and he went to his + blankets, spread over a thick couch of balsam boughs. For hours his eyes + were wide open and sleepless. + </p> + <p> + He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt—a + charitable inclination to half believe—gave way in him to a + conviction which he could not fight down. More than once in his years of + wilderness life strange facts had compelled him to give some credence to + the power of the Indian conjurer. Belief in the mastery of the mind was + part of his faith in nature. It had come to him from his mother, who had + lived and died in the strength of her creed. + </p> + <p> + “Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true,” she had + told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it possible she had + told him the truth? Had her mind actually communed with the mind of Nada? + Had she, through the sheer force of her illimitable faith, projected her + subconscious self into the future that she might show him the way? His + eyes were staring, his ears unhearing, as he thought of the proof which + Yellow Bird had given to him. A few hours ago she had brought him warning + of impending danger. There had been no hesitation and no doubt. She had + come to him unequivocal and sure. Without seeing, without hearing, she + knew Cassidy was stealing upon him through the night. + </p> + <p> + In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. Without + effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, Yellow Bird had + given him a test of her power. It had been a spontaneous and unstaged + thing, a woman's heart reaching out for him—as she had promised that + it would. And yet, even as the simplicity and truth of it pressed upon + him, doubt followed with its questions. If, after this, Yellow Bird had + told him to return to Nada as swiftly as he could, he would have believed, + and this night would have seen him on his way. But she had warned him + against this, predicting desolation and grief if he returned. She had + urged him to go on, somewhere, anywhere, seeking for an illusion and an + unreality which the spirits had named, to her as the Country Beyond. And + when he reached this Country Beyond, wherever it might be, he would + possess Nada again, and happiness for all time. After all, there was + something archaically crude in what he was trying to believe, when he came + to analyze it. Yellow Bird possessed her powers, but they were definitely + limited. And to believe beyond those limitations, to ride upon the wings + of superstition and imagination, was sheer savagery. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger stretched himself upon his blankets again, repeating this + final argument to himself. But as the night drew closer about him, and his + eyes closed, and sleep came, there was a lightness in his heart which he + had not known for many days. He dreamed, and his dream was of Nada. He was + with her again and it seemed, in this dream, that Yellow Bird was always + watching them, and they could not quite get away from her. They ran + through the jackpine openings where the strawberries and blue violets + grew, and he always ran behind Nada, so he could see her brown curls + flying about her. + </p> + <p> + But they never could rid themselves of Yellow Bird, no matter how fast + they ran or where they tried to hide. From somewhere Yellow Bird's dark + eyes would look out at them, and finally, laughing at his own + discomfiture, he drew Nada down beside him in a little fen, white and + yellow and blue with wildflowers, and boldly took her head in his arms and + kissed her—with Yellow Bird looking at them from behind a banksian + clump twenty feet away. So real was the kiss, and so real the warm + pressure of Nada's slim arms about his neck that he awoke with a glad cry—and + sat up to find the dawn had come. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments he sat stupidly, looking about him as if not quite + believing the unreality of it all. Then with Peter he went down to the + edge of the lake. + </p> + <p> + All that day Peter sensed a quiet change in his master. Jolly Roger did + not talk. He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly when he moved at + all, with a set, strange look in his face. He was making his last big + fight against the desire to return to Cragg's Ridge. Yellow Bird's + predictions, and her warning, had no influence with him now. He was + thinking of Nada alone. She was back there, waiting for him, praying for + his return, ready and happy to become a fugitive with him—to accept + her chances of life or death, of happiness or grief, in his company. A + dozen times the determination to return for her almost won. But each time + came the other picture—a vision of ceaseless flight, of hiding, of + hunger and cold and never ending hardship, and at the last, inevitable as + the dawning of another day—prison, and possibly the hangman. + </p> + <p> + Not until late that afternoon did Peter see the old Jolly Roger in the + face of his master. And Jolly Roger said: + </p> + <p> + “We've made up our mind, Pied-Bot. We can't go back. We'll hit north and + spend the winter along the edge of the Barren Lands. It's the biggest + country I know of, and if Cassidy comes—” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders grimly. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour they had started, with the sun beginning to sink in the + west. + </p> + <p> + For two days Jolly Roger and Peter paddled their way slowly up the eastern + shore of Wollaston. That he had correctly analyzed the mental arguments + which would guide Cassidy in his pursuit Jolly Roger had little doubt. He + would keep to the west shore, and up through the Hatchet Lake and Black + River waterways, as his quarry had never failed to hit straight for the + farther north in time of peril. Meanwhile Jolly Roger had decided to make + his way without haste up the east shore of Wollaston, and paddle north and + east through the Du Brochet and Thiewiaza River waterways. If these + courses were followed, each hour would add to the distance between them, + and when the way was safe they would head straight for the Barren Lands. + </p> + <p> + Peter, and only Peter, sensed the glory of that third afternoon when they + paddled slowly ashore close to the shimmering stream of spring water that + was called Limping Moose Creek. The sun was still two hours high in the + west. There was no wind, and Wollaston was like a mirror; yet in the still + air was the clean, cool tang of early autumn, and shoreward the world + reached out in ridges and billows of tinted forests, with a September haze + pulsing softly over them, fleecy as the misty shower of a lady's powder + puff. It was destined to be a memorable afternoon for Peter, a going down + of the sun that he would never forget as long as he lived. + </p> + <p> + Yet there was no warning of the thing impending, and his eyes saw only the + mystery and wonder of the big world, and his ears heard only the drowsing + murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet scents of cedars and + balsams and of flowering and ripening things. Straight ahead, beyond the + white shore line, was a low ridge, and this ridge—where it was not + purple and black with the evergreen—was red with the crimson + blotches of mountain-ash berries, and patches of fire flowers that glowed + like flame in the setting sun. + </p> + <p> + From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly the voice + and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A big jay was + screeching over it all, and between the first ridge and the second—which + rose still higher beyond it—a cloud of crows were circling excitedly + over a mother black bear and her half grown cubs as they feasted on the + red ash berries. But Peter could not smell the bears, nor hear them, and + the distant crows were of less interest than the wonder and mystery of the + shore close at hand. + </p> + <p> + He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his + master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes. The + glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to Peter. + Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a chaos of + loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams. Love of life + was gone out of him. He saw no beauty. The sun had changed. The sky was + different. The bigness of his wilderness no longer thrilled him, but + oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the reason + for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so Jolly Roger had + changed for Peter. + </p> + <p> + They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter jumped out. + A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the shore ahead of him. He + perked up his angular ears, and then his nose caught a fresh scent under + his feet where a porcupine had left his trail. And he heard more clearly + the raucous tumult of the jay and the musical chattering of the red + squirrels. + </p> + <p> + All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and life + thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days ago. He + adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green willows and the + young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers that fringed the + beginning of the forest. It had rained recently here, and the scents were + fresh and sweet. + </p> + <p> + He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its luscious black berries, + and began nibbling at them. A gopher, coming to his supper bush, gave a + little squeak of annoyance, and Peter saw the bright eyes of the midget + glaring at him from under a big fern leaf. Peter wagged his tail, for the + savagery of his existence was qualified by that mellowing sense of humor + which had always been a part of his master. He yipped softly, in a + companionable sort of way. + </p> + <p> + And then there smote upon his ears a sound which hardened every muscle in + his body. + </p> + <p> + “Throw up your hands, McKay!” + </p> + <p> + He turned his head. Close to him stood a man. In an instant he had + recognized him. It was the man whose scent he had first discovered down at + Cragg's Ridge, the man from whom his master was always running away, the + man whose voice he had heard again at Yellow Bird's Camp a few nights ago—Corporal + Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. + </p> + <p> + Twenty paces away stood McKay. His dunnage was on his back, his paddle in + his hand. And Cassidy, smiling grimly, a dangerous humor in his eyes, was + leveling an automatic at his breast. It was, in that instant, a tableau + which no man could ever forget. Cassidy was bareheaded, and the sun burned + hotly in his red hair. And his face was red, and in the pale blue of his + Irish eyes was a fierce joy of achievement. At last, after months and + years, the thrilling game of One against One was at an end. Cassidy had + made the last move, and he was winner. + </p> + <p> + For half a minute after the command to throw up his hands McKay did not + move. And Cassidy did not repeat the command, for he sensed the shock that + had fallen upon his adversary, and was charitable enough to give him time. + And then, with something like a deep sigh from between his lips, Jolly + Roger's body sagged. The dunnage dropped from his shoulder to the sand. + The paddle slipped from his hand. Slowly he raised his arms above his + head, and Cassidy laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + A few days ago McKay would have grinned back, coolly, good humoredly, + appreciative of the other's craftsmanship even in the hour of his defeat. + But today there was another soul within him. + </p> + <p> + His eyes no longer saw the old Cassidy, brave and loyal to his duty, a + chivalrous enemy, the man he had yearned to love as brother loves brother, + even in the hours of sharpest pursuit. In Cassidy he saw now the hangman + himself. The whole world had turned against him, and in this hour of his + greatest despair and hopelessness a bitter fate had turned up Cassidy to + deal him the finishing blow. + </p> + <p> + A swift rage burned in him, even as he raised his hands. It swept through + his brain in a blinding inundation. He did not think of the law, or of + death, or of freedom. It was the unfairness of the thing that filled his + soul with the blackness of one last terrible desire for vengeance. + Cassidy's gun, leveled at his breast, meant nothing. A thousand guns + leveled at his breast would have meant nothing. A choking sound came from + his lips, and like a shot his right hand went to his revolver holster. + </p> + <p> + In that last second or two Cassidy had foreseen the impending thing, and + with the movement of the other's hand he cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Stop! For God's sake stop—or I shall fire!” + </p> + <p> + Even into the soul of Peter there came in that moment the electrical + thrill of something terrific about to happen, of impending death, of + tragedy close at hand. Once, a long time ago, Peter had felt another + moment such as this—when he had buried his fangs in Jed Hawkins' leg + to save Nada. + </p> + <p> + In that fraction of a second which carried Peter through space, Corporal + Cassidy's finger was pressing the trigger of his automatic, for McKay's + gun was half out of its holster. He was aiming at the other's shoulder, + somewhere not to kill. + </p> + <p> + The shock of Peter's assault came simultaneously with the explosion of his + gun, and McKay heard the hissing spit of the bullet past his ear. His arm + darted out. And as Peter buried his teeth deeper into Cassidy's leg, he + heard a second shot, and knew that it came from his master. There was no + third. Cassidy drooped, and something like a little laugh came from him—only + it was not a laugh. His body sagged, and then crumpled down, so that the + weight of him fell upon Peter. + </p> + <p> + For many seconds after that Jolly Roger stood with his gun in his hand, + not a muscle of his body moving, and with something like stupor in his + staring eyes. Peter struggled out from under Cassidy, and looked + inquisitively from his master to the man who lay sprawled out like a great + spider upon the sand. It was then that life seemed to come back into Jolly + Roger's body. His gun fell, as if it was the last thing in the world to + count for anything now, and with a choking cry he ran to Cassidy and + dropped upon his knees beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Cassidy—Cassidy—” he cried. “Good God, I didn't mean to do + it! Cassidy, old pal—” + </p> + <p> + The agony in his voice stilled the growl in Peter's throat. McKay saw + nothing for a space, as he raised Cassidy's head and shoulders, and + brushed back the mop of red hair. Everything was a blur before his eyes. + He had killed Cassidy. He knew it. He had shot to kill, and not once in a + hundred times did he miss his mark. At last he was what the law wanted him + to be—a murderer. And his victim was Cassidy—the man who had + played him fairly and squarely from beginning to end, the man who had + never taken a mean advantage of him, and who had died there in the white + sand because he had not shot to kill. With sobbing breath he cried out his + grief, and then, looking down, he saw the miracle in Cassidy's face. The + Irishman's eyes were wide open, and there was pain, and also a grin, about + his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you're sorry,” he said. “I'd hate to have a bad opinion of you, + McKay. But—you're a rotten shot!” + </p> + <p> + His body sagged heavily, and the grin slowly left his lips, and a moan + came from between them. He struggled and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It may be—you'll want help, McKay. If you do—there's a cabin + half a mile up the creek. Saw the smoke—heard axe—I don't + blame you. You're a good sport—pretty quick—but—rotten + shot! Oh, Lord—such—rotten—shot—” + </p> + <p> + And he tried vainly to grin up into Jolly Roger's face as he became a + lifeless weight in the other's arms. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger was sobbing. He was sobbing, in a strange, hard man-fashion, + as he tore open Cassidy's shirt and saw the red wound that went clean + through Cassidy's right breast just under the shoulder. And Peter still + heard that strange sound coming from his lips, a moaning as if for breath, + as his master ran and brought up water, and worked over the fallen man. + And then he got under Cassidy, and rose up with him on his shoulders, and + staggered off with him toward the creek. There he found a path, a narrow + foot trail, and not once did he stop with his burden until he came into a + little clearing, out of which Cassidy had seen the smoke rising. In this + clearing was a cabin, and from the cabin came an old man to meet him—an + old man and a girl. + </p> + <p> + At first something shot up into Peter's throat, for he thought it was Nada + who came behind the grizzled and white-headed man. There was the same + lithe slimness in her body, the same brown glint in her hair, and the same—but + he saw then that it was not Nada. She was older. She was a bit taller. And + her face was white when she saw the bleeding burden on Jolly Roger's back. + </p> + <p> + “I shot him,” panted McKay. “God knows I didn't mean to! I'm afraid—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish giving voice to the fear that Cassidy was dead—or + dying, and for a moment he saw only the big staring eyes of the girl as + the gray-bearded man helped him with his burden. Not until the Irishman + was on a cot in the cabin did he discover how childishly weak he had + become and what a terrific struggle he had made with the weight on his + shoulders. He sank into a chair, while the old trapper worked over + Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + He heard the girl call him grandfather. She was no longer frightened, and + she moved like a swift bird about the cabin, getting water and bandages + and pillows, and the sight of fresh blood and of Cassidy's dead-white face + brought a glow of tenderness into her eyes. McKay, sitting dumbly, saw + that her hands were doing twice the work his own could have accomplished, + and not until he heard a low moan from the wounded man did he come to her + side. + </p> + <p> + “The bullet went through clean as a whistle,” the old man said. “Lucky you + don't use soft nosed bullets, friend.” + </p> + <p> + A deep sigh came from Cassidy's lips. His eyelids fluttered, and then + slowly his eyes opened. The girl was bending over him, and Cassidy saw + only her face, and the brown sheen of her hair. + </p> + <p> + “He'll live?” Jolly Roger said tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The older man remained mute. It was Cassidy, turning his head a little, + who answered weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, McKay. I'll—live.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger bent over the cot, between Cassidy and the girl. Gently he + took one of the wounded man's hands in both his own. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, old man,” he whispered. “You won, fair and square. And I won't + go far away. I'll be waiting for you when you get on your feet. I promise + that. I'll wait.” + </p> + <p> + A wan smile came over Cassidy's lips, and then he moaned again, and his + eyes closed. The girl thrust Jolly Roger back. + </p> + <p> + “No—you better not go far, an' you better wait,” she said, and there + was an unspoken thing in the dark glow of her eyes that made him think of + Nada on that day when she told him how Jed Hawkins had struck her in the + cabin at Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + That night Jolly Roger made his camp close to the mouth of the Limping + Moose. And for three days thereafter his trail led only between this camp + and the cabin of old Robert Baron and his granddaughter, Giselle. All this + time Cassidy was telling things in a fever. He talked a great deal about + Jolly Roger. And the girl, nursing him night and day, with scarcely a wink + of sleep between, came to believe they had been great comrades, and had + been inseparable for a long time. Even then she would not let McKay take + her place at Cassidy's side. The third day she started him off for a post + sixty miles away to get a fresh supply of bandages and medicines. + </p> + <p> + It was evening, three days later, when Jolly Roger and Peter returned. The + windows of the cabin were brightly lighted, and McKay came up to one of + these windows and looked in. Cassidy was bolstered up in his cot. He was + very much alive, and on the floor at his side, sitting on a bear rug, was + the girl. A lump rose in Jolly Roger's throat. Quietly he placed the + bundle which he had brought from the post close up against the door, and + knocked. When Giselle opened it he had disappeared into darkness, with + Peter at his heels. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he found old Robert and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “I'm restless, and I'm going to move a little. I'll be back in two weeks. + Tell Cassidy that, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later he was paddling up the shore of Wollaston, and for a + week thereafter he haunted the creeks and inlets, always on the move. + Peter saw him growing thinner each day. There was less and less of cheer + in his voice, seldom a smile on his lips, and never did his laugh ring out + as of old. Peter tried to understand, and Jolly Roger talked to him, but + not in the old happy way. + </p> + <p> + “We might have finished him, an' got rid of him for good,” he said to + Peter one chilly night beside their campfire. “But we couldn't, just like + we couldn't have brought Nada up here with us. And we're going back. I'm + going to keep that promise. We're going back, Peter, if we hang for it!” + </p> + <p> + And Jolly Roger's jaw would set grimly as he measured the time between. + </p> + <p> + The tenth day came and he set out for the mouth of the Canoe River. On the + afternoon of the twelfth he paddled slowly into Limping Moose Creek. + Without any reason he looked at his watch when he started for old Robert's + cabin. It was four o'clock. He was two days ahead of his promise, and + there was a bit of satisfaction in that. There was an odd thumping at his + heart. He had faith in Cassidy, a belief that the Irishman would call + their affair a draw, and tell him to take another chance in the big open. + He was the sort of man to live up to the letter of a wager, when it was + honestly made. But, if he didn't— + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger paused long enough to take the cartridges from his gun. There + would be no more shooting'—on his part. + </p> + <p> + The mellow autumn sun was flooding the open door of the cabin when he came + up. He heard laughter. It was Giselle. She was talking, too. And then he + heard a man's voice—and from far off to his right came the chopping + of an axe. Old Robert was at work. Giselle and Cassidy were at home. + </p> + <p> + He stepped up to the door, coughing to give notice of his approach. And + then, suddenly, he stopped, staring thunderstruck at what was happening + within. + </p> + <p> + Terence Cassidy was sitting in a big chair. The girl was behind him. Her + white arms were around his neck, her face was bent down, her lips were + kissing him. + </p> + <p> + In an instant Cassidy's eyes had caught him. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” he cried, so suddenly and so loudly that it startled the girl. + “McKay, come in!” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger entered, and the girl stood up straight behind Cassidy's + chair, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with the glow of the sunset. + And Terence Cassidy was grinning in that old triumphant way as he leaned + forward in his chair, gripping the arms of it with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “McKay, you've lost,” he cried. “I'm the winner!” + </p> + <p> + In the same moment he took the girl's hand and drew her from behind his + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Giselle, do as you said you were going to do. Prove to him that I've + won.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly she came to Jolly Roger. Her cheeks were like the red of the + sunset. Her eyes were flaming. Her lips were parted. And dumbly he waited, + and wondered, until she stood close to him. Then, swiftly, her arms were + around his neck, and she kissed him. In an instant she was back on her + knees at the wounded man's side, her burning face hidden against him, and + Cassidy was laughing, and holding out both hands to McKay. + </p> + <p> + “McKay, Roger McKay, I want you to meet Mrs. Terence Cassidy, my wife,” he + said. And the girl raised her face, so that her shining eyes were on Jolly + Roger. + </p> + <p> + Still dumbly he stood where he was. + </p> + <p> + “The Missioner from Du Brochet was here yesterday, and married us,” he + heard Cassidy saying. “And we've written out my resignation together, old + man. We've both won. I thank God you put that bullet into me down on the + shore, for it's brought me paradise. And here's my hand on it, McKay—forever + and ever!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, when McKay stumbled out into the forest trail again, + his eyes were blinded by tears and his heart choked by a new hope as big + as the world itself. Yellow Bird was right, and God must have been with + her that night when her soul went to commune with Nada's. For Yellow Bird + had proved herself again. And now he believed her. + </p> + <p> + He believed in the world again. He believed in love and happiness and the + glory of life, and as he went down the narrow trail to his canoe, with + Peter close behind him, his heart was crying out Nada's name and Yellow + Bird's promise that sometime—somewhere—they two would find + happiness together, as Giselle and Terence Cassidy had found it. + </p> + <p> + And Peter heard the chopping of the distant axe, and the song of birds, + and the chattering of squirrels—but thrilling his soul most of all + was the voice of his master, the old voice, the glad voice, the voice he + had first learned to love at Cragg's Ridge in the days of blue violets and + red strawberries, when Nada had filled his world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + McKay still had his mind on a certain stretch of timber that reached out + into the Barren Lands, hundreds of miles farther north. In this hiding + place, three years before, he had built himself a cabin, and had caught + foxes during half the long winter. Not only the cabin, but the foxes, were + drawing him. Necessity was close upon his heels. What little money he + possessed after leaving Cragg's Ridge was exhausted, his supplies were + gone, and his boots and clothes were patched with deer hide. + </p> + <p> + In the Snowbird Lake country, a week after he left Cassidy in his paradise + at Wollaston, he fell in with good fortune. Two trappers had come in from + Churchill. One of them was sick, and the other needed help in the building + of their winter cabin. McKay remained with them for ten days, and when he + continued his journey northward his pack was stuffed with supplies, and he + wore new boots and more comfortable clothes. + </p> + <p> + It was the middle of October when he found his old cabin, a thousand miles + from Cragg's Ridge. It was as he had left it three years ago. No one had + opened its door since then. The little box stove was waiting for a fire. + Behind it was a pile of wood. On the table were the old tin dishes, and + hanging from babiche cords fastened to the roof timbers, out of reach of + mice and ermine, were blankets and clothing and other possessions he had + left behind him in that winter break-up of what seemed like ages ago to + him. He raised a small section in the floor, and there were his traps, + thickly coated with caribou grease. For half an hour before he built a + fire he sought eagerly for the things he had concealed here and there. He + found oil, and a tin lamp, and candles, and as darkness of the first night + gathered outside a roaring fire sent sparks up the chimney, and the little + cabin's one window glowed with light, and the battered old coffee pot + bubbled and steamed again, as if rejoicing at his return. + </p> + <p> + With the breaking of another day he immediately began preparations for the + season's trapping. In two days' hunting he killed three caribou, his + winter meat. Then he cut wood, and made his strychnine poison baits, and + marked out his trap-lines. + </p> + <p> + The first of November brought the chill whisperings of an early winter + through the Northland. Farther south autumn was dying, or dead. The last + of the red ash berries hung shriveled and frost-bitten on naked twigs, + freezing nights were nipping the face of the earth, the voices of the + wilderness were filled with a new note and the winds held warning for + every man and beast between Hudson's Bay and the Great Slave and from the + Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. Seven years before there had come such a + winter, and the land had not forgotten it—a winter sudden and swift, + deadly in its unexpectedness, terrific in its cold, bringing with it such + famine and death as the Northland had not known for two generations. + </p> + <p> + But this year there was premonition. Omen of it came with the first + wailing night winds that bore the smell of icebergs from over the black + forests north and west. The moon came up red, and it went down red, and + the sun came up red in the morning. The loon's call died a month ahead of + its time. The wild geese drove steadily south when they should have been + feeding from the Kogatuk to Baffin's Bay, and the beaver built his walls + thick, and anchored his alders and his willows deep so that he would not + starve when the ice grew heavy. East, west, north and south, in forest and + swamp, in the trapper's cabin and the wolf's hiding-place, was warning of + it. Gray rabbits turned white. Moose and caribou began to herd. The foxes + yipped shrilly in the night, and a new hunger and a new thrill sent the + wolves hunting in packs, while the gray geese streaked southward under the + red moon overhead. + </p> + <p> + Through this November, and all of December, Jolly Roger and Peter were + busy from two hours before dawn of each day until late at night. The foxes + were plentiful, and McKay was compelled to shorten his lines and put out + fewer baits, and on the tenth of December he set out for a fur-trading + post ninety miles south with two hundred and forty skins. He had made a + toboggan, and a harness for Peter, and pulling together they made the trip + in three days, and on the fourth started for the cabin again with supplies + and something over a thousand dollars in cash. + </p> + <p> + Through the weeks of increasing storm and cold that followed, McKay + continued to trap, and early in February he made another trip to the fur + post. + </p> + <p> + It was on their return that they were caught in the Black Storm. It will + be a long time before the northland will forget that storm. It was a storm + in which the Sarcees died to a man, woman and child over on the Dubawnt + waterways, and when trees froze solid and split open with the sharp + explosions of high-power guns. In it, all furred and feathered life and + all hoof and horn along the edge of the Barren Lands from Aberdeen Lake to + the Coppermine was swallowed up. It was in this storm that streams froze + solid, and the man who was cautious fastened a babiche rope about his + waist when he went forth from his cabin for wood or water, so that his + wife might help to pull and guide him back through that blinding avalanche + of wind and freezing fury that held a twisted and broken world in its + grip. + </p> + <p> + In the country west of Artillery Lake and south of the Theolon River, + Jolly Roger and Peter were compelled to “dig in.” They were in a country + where the biggest stick of wood that thrust itself up out of the snow was + no bigger than McKay's thumb; a country of green grass and succulent moss + on which the caribou fed in season, but a hell on earth when arctic storm + howled and screamed across it in winter. + </p> + <p> + Piled up against a mass of rock Jolly Roger found a huge snow drift. This + drift was as long as a church and half as high, with its outer shell + blistered and battered to the hardness of rock by wind and sleet. Through + this shell he cut a small door with his knife, and after that dug out the + soft snow from within until he had a room half as big as his cabin, and so + snug and warm after a little with the body heat of himself and Peter that + he could throw off the thick coat which he wore. + </p> + <p> + To Peter, in the first night of this storm, it seemed as though all the + people in the world were shrieking and wailing and sobbing in the + blackness outside. Jolly Roger sat smoking his pipe at intervals in the + gloom, though there was little pleasure in smoking a pipe in darkness. The + storm did not oppress him, but filled him with an odd sense of security + and comfort. The wind shrieked and lashed itself about his snow-dune, but + it could not get at him. Its mightiest efforts to destroy only beat more + snow upon him, and made him safer and warmer. In a way, there was + something of humor as well as tragedy in its wild frenzy, and Peter heard + him laugh softly in the darkness. More and more frequently he had heard + that laugh since those warm days of autumn when they had last met the + red-headed man, Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, + and his master had shot him on the white shore of Wollaston. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said McKay, caressing Peter's hairy neck in the gloom. + “Everything is turning out right for us, and I'm beginning to believe more + and more what Yellow Bird told us, and that in the end we're going to be + happy—somewhere—with Nada. What do you think, Pied-Bot? Shall + we take a chance, and go back to Cragg's Ridge in the spring?” + </p> + <p> + Peter wriggled himself in answer, as a wild shriek of wind wailed over the + huge snow-dune. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's fingers tightened at Peter's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're going,” he said, as though he was telling Peter something + new. “I'm believing Yellow Bird, Pied-Bot. I'm believing her—now. + What she told us was more than fortune-telling. It wasn't just Indian + sorcery. When she shut herself up and starved for those three days and + nights in her little conjurer's house, just for you and me—SOMETHING + HAPPENED. Didn't it? Wouldn't you say something happened?” + </p> + <p> + Peter swallowed and his teeth clicked as he gave evidence of + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “She told us a lot of truth,” went on Jolly Roger, with deep faith in his + voice “And we must believe, Pied-Bot. She told us Cassidy was coming after + us, and he came. She said the spirits promised her the law would never get + us, and we thought it looked bad when Cassidy had us covered with his gun + on the shore at Wollaston. But something more than luck was with us, and + we shot him. Then we brought him back to life and lugged him to a cabin, + and the little stranger girl took him, and nursed him, and Cassidy fell in + love with her—and married her. So Yellow Bird was right again, + Pied-Bot. We've got to believe her. And she says everything is coming out + right for us, and that we are going back to Nada, and be happy—” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's pipe-bowl glowed in the blackness. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to light the alcohol lamp,” he said. “We can't sleep. And I + want a good smoke. It isn't fun when you can't see the smoke. Too bad God + forgot to make you so you could use a pipe, Peter. You don't know what you + are missing—in times like these.” + </p> + <p> + He fumbled in his pack and found the alcohol lamp, which was fresh filled + and screwed tight. Peter heard him working for a moment in the darkness. + Then he struck a match, and the yellow flare of it lighted up his face. In + his joy Peter whined. It was good to see his master. And then, in another + moment, the little lamp was filling their white-walled refuge with a + mellow glow. Jolly Roger's eyes, coming suddenly out of darkness, were + wide and staring. His face was covered with a scrub beard. But there was + something of cheer about him even in this night of terror outside, and + when he had driven his snowshoe into the snow wall, and had placed the + lamp on it, he grinned companionably at Peter. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a deep breath of satisfaction, he puffed out clouds of smoke + from his pipe, and stood up to look about their room. + </p> + <p> + “Not so bad, is it?” he asked. “We could have a big house here if we + wanted to dig out rooms—eh, Peter? Parlors, and bed-rooms, and a + library—and not a policeman within a million miles of us. That's the + nice part of it, PIED-BOT—none of the Royal Mounties to trouble us. + They would never think of looking for us in the heart of a big snow-dune + out in this God-forsaken barren, would they?” + </p> + <p> + The thought was a pleasing one to Jolly Roger. He spread out his blankets + on the snow floor, and sat down on them, facing Peter. + </p> + <p> + “We've got 'em beat,” he said, a chuckling note of pride in his voice. + “The world is small when it comes to hiding, Pied-Bot, but all the people + in it couldn't find us here—not in a million years. If we could only + find a place as safe as this—where a girl could live—and had + Nada with us—” + </p> + <p> + Many times during the past few weeks Peter had seen the light that flamed + up now in his master's eyes. That, and the strange thrill in Jolly Roger's + voice, stirred him more than the words to which he listened, and tried to + understand. + </p> + <p> + “And we're GOING to,” finished McKay, almost fiercely, his hands clenching + as he leaned toward Peter. “We have made a big mistake, Pied-Bot, and it + has taken us a long time to see it. It will be hard for us to leave our + north country, but that is what we must do. Maybe Yellow Bird's good + spirits meant that when they said we would find happiness with Nada in a + place called The Country Beyond. There are a lot of 'Countries Beyond,' + Peter, and as soon as the spring break-up comes and we can travel without + leaving trails behind us we will go back to Cragg's Ridge and get Nada, + and hit for some place where the law won't expect to find us. There's + China, for instance. A lot of yellow people. But what do we care for color + as long as we have her with us? I say—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stopped. And Peter's body grew tense. Both faced the round + hole, half filled with softly packed snow, which McKay had cut as a door + into the heart of the big drift. They had grown accustomed to the tumult + of the storm. Its strange wailings and the shrieking voices which at times + seemed borne in the moaning sweep of it no longer sent shivers of + apprehension through Peter. But in that moment when both turned to listen + there came a sound which was not like the other sounds they had heard. It + was a voice—not one of the phantom voices of the screaming wind, but + a voice so real and so near that for a beat or two even Jolly Roger + McKay's heart stood still. It was as if a man, standing just beyond their + snow barricade, had shouted a name. But there came no second call. The + wind lulled, so that for a space there was stillness outside. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger laughed a little uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Good thing we don't believe in ghosts, Peter, or we would swear it was a + Loup-Garou smelling us through the wall!” He thumbed the tobacco down in + his pine, and nodded. “Then—there is South America,” he said. “They + have everything down there—the biggest rivers in the world, the + biggest mountains, and so much room that even a Loup-Garou couldn't hunt + us out. She will love it, Pied-Bot. But if it happens she likes Africa + better, or Australia, or the South Sea—Now, what the devil was + that?” + </p> + <p> + Peter had jumped as if stung, and for a moment Jolly Roger sat tense as a + carven Indian. Then he rose to his feet, a look of perplexity and doubt in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What was it, Peter? Can the wind shoot a gun—like THAT?” + </p> + <p> + Peter was sniffing at the loosely blocked door of their snow-room. A + whimper rose in his throat. He looked up at Jolly Roger, his eyes glowing + fiercely through the mass of Airedale whiskers that covered his face. He + wanted to dig. He wanted to plunge out into the howling darkness. Slowly + McKay beat the ash out of his pipe and placed the pipe in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “We'll take a look,” he said, something repressive in his voice. “But it + isn't reasonable, Peter. It is the wind. There couldn't be a man out + there, and it wasn't a rifle we heard. It is the wind—with the devil + himself behind it!” + </p> + <p> + With a few sweeps of his hands and arms he scooped out the loose snow from + the hole. The opening was on the sheltered side of the drift, and only the + whirling eddies of the storm swept about him as he thrust out his head and + shoulders. But over him it was rushing like an avalanche. He could hear + nothing but the moaning advance of it. And he could see nothing. He held + out his hand before his face, and blackness swallowed it. + </p> + <p> + “We have been chased so much that we're what you might call + super-sensitive,” he said, pulling himself back and nodding at Peter in + the gray light of the alcohol lamp. “Guess we'd better turn in, boy. This + is a good place to sleep—plenty of fresh air, no mosquitoes or black + flies, and the police so far away that we will soon forget how they look. + If you say so we will have a nip of cold tea and a bite—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish. For a moment the wind had lessened in fury, as if + gathering a deeper breath. And what he heard drew a cry from him this + time, and a sharper whine from Peter. Out of the blackness of the night + had come a woman's voice! In that first instant of shock and amazement he + would have staked his life that what he heard was not a mad outcry of the + night or an illusion of his brain. It was clear—distinct—a + woman's voice coming from out on the Barren, rising above the storm in an + agony of appeal, and dying out quickly until it became a part of the + moaning wind. And then, with equal force, came the absurdity of it to + McKay. A woman! He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and + tried to laugh. A WOMAN—out in that storm—a thousand miles + from nowhere! It was inconceivable. + </p> + <p> + The laugh which he forced from his lips was husky and unreal, and there + was a smothering grip of something at his heart. In the ghostly light of + the alcohol lamp his eyes were wide open and staring. + </p> + <p> + He looked at Peter. The dog stood stiff-legged before the hole. His body + was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” + </p> + <p> + With a responsive wag of his tail Peter turned his bristling face up to + his master. Many times Jolly Roger had seen that unfailing warning in his + comrade's eyes. THERE WAS SOME ONE OUTSIDE—or Peter's brain, like + his own, was twisted and fooled by the storm! + </p> + <p> + Against his reasoning—in the face of the absurdity of it—Jolly + Roger was urged into action. He changed the snowshoe and replaced the + alcohol lamp so that the glow of light could be seen more clearly from the + Barren. Then he went to the hole and crawled through. Peter followed him. + </p> + <p> + As if infuriated by their audacity, the storm lashed itself over the top + of the dune. They could hear the hissing whine of fine hard snow tearing + above their heads like volleys of shot, and the force of the wind reached + them even in their shelter, bringing with it the flinty sting of the + snow-dust. Beyond them the black barren was filled with a dismal moaning. + Looking up, and yet seeing nothing in the darkness, Peter understood where + the weird shriekings and ghostly cries came from. It was the wind whipping + itself up the side and over the top of the dune. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that mighty + force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again one of those + brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a moment, and its + moaning grew less and less, until it was like the sound of giant chariot + wheels receding swiftly over the face of the earth. Then came the silence—a + few seconds of it—while in the north gathered swiftly the whispering + rumble of a still greater force. + </p> + <p> + And in this silence came once more a cry—a cry which Jolly Roger + McKay could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the report of a + rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a woman's voice. As nearly + as he could judge it came from dead ahead, out of the chaos of blackness, + and in that direction he shouted an answer. Then he ran out into the + darkness, followed by Peter. Another avalanche of wind gathered at their + heels, driving them on like the crest of a flood. In the first force of it + Jolly Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and in that moment he saw very + faintly the glow of his light at the opening in the snow dune. A + realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of the light flashed upon + him. Again and again he called into the night. After that, bowing his head + in the fury of the storm, he plunged on deeper into darkness. + </p> + <p> + A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into + forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. In the + heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer doubted it. And + the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? Was it possible she had + followed him after his flight, determined to find him, and share his fate? + His heart pounded. Who else, of all the women in the world, could be + following his trail across the Barrens—a thousand miles from + civilization? He began to shout her name. “Nada—Nada—Nada!” + And hidden in the gloom at his side Peter barked. + </p> + <p> + Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the alcohol + lamp died out. Jolly Roger did not look back. Blindly he stumbled ahead, + counting his footsteps as he went, and shouting Nada's name. Twice he + thought he heard a reply, and each time the will-o'-the-wisp voice seemed + to be still farther ahead of him. Then, with a fiercer blast of the wind + beating upon his back, he stumbled and fell forward upon his face. His + hand reached out and touched the thing that had tripped him. It was not + snow. His naked fingers clutched in something soft and furry. It was a + man's coat. He could feel buttons, a belt, and the sudden thrill of a + bearded face. + </p> + <p> + He stood up. The wind was wailing off over the Barren again, leaving an + instant of stillness about him. And he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Nada—Nada—Nada!” + </p> + <p> + An answer came so quickly that it startled him, not one voice, but two—three—and + one of them the shrill agonized cry of a woman. They came toward him as he + continued to shout, until a few feet away he could make out a gray blur + moving through the gloom. He went to it, staggering under the weight of + the man he had found in the snow. The blur was made up of two men dragging + a sledge, and behind the sledge was a third figure, moaning in the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I found some one in the snow,” Jolly Roger shouted. “Here he is—” + </p> + <p> + He dropped his burden, and the last of his words were twisted by a fresh + blast of the storm. But the figure behind the sledge had heard, and Jolly + Roger saw her indistinctly at his feet, shielding the man he had found + with her arms and body, and crying out a name which he could not + understand in that howling of the wind. But a thing like cold steel sank + into his heart, and he knew it was not Nada he had found this night on the + Barren. He placed the unconscious man on the sledge, believing he was + dead. The girl was crying out something to him, unintelligible in the + storm, and one of the men shouted in a thick throaty voice which he could + not understand. Jolly Roger felt the weight of him as he staggered in the + wind, fighting to keep his feet, and he knew he was ready to drop down in + the snow and die. + </p> + <p> + “It's only a step,” he shouted. “Can you make it?” + </p> + <p> + His words reached the ears of the others. The girl swayed through the + darkness and gripped his arm. The two men began to tug at the sledge, and + Jolly Roger seized the rope between them, wondering why there were no + dogs, and faced the driving of the storm. It seemed an interminable time + before he saw the faint glow of the alcohol lamp. The last fifty feet was + like struggling against an irresistible hail from machine-guns. Then came + the shelter of the dune. + </p> + <p> + One at a time McKay helped to drag them through the hole which he used for + a door. For a space his vision was blurred, and he saw through the hazy + film of storm-blindness the gray faces and heavily coated forms of those + he had rescued. The man he had found in the snow he placed on his + blankets, and the girl fell down upon her knees beside him. It was then + Jolly Roger began to see more clearly. And in that same instant came a + shock as unexpected as the smash of dynamite under his feet. + </p> + <p> + The girl had thrown back her parkee, and was sobbing over the man on the + blankets, and calling him father. She was not like Nada. Her hair was in + thick, dark coils, and she was older. She was not pretty—now. Her + face was twisted by the brutal beating of the storm, and her eyes were + nearly closed. But it was the man Jolly Roger stared at, while his heart + choked inside him. He was grizzled and gray-bearded, with military + mustaches and a bald head. He was not dead. His eyes were open, and his + blue lips were struggling to speak to the girl whose blindness kept her + from seeing that he was alive. And the coat which he wore was the + regulation service garment of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police! + </p> + <p> + Slowly McKay turned, wiping the film of snow-sweat from his eyes, and + stared at the other two. One of them had sunk down with his back to the + snow wall. He was a much younger man, possibly not over thirty, and his + face was ghastly. The third lay where he had fallen from exhaustion after + crawling through the hole. Both wore service coats, with holsters at their + sides. + </p> + <p> + The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise. He sagged + back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay. + </p> + <p> + “Dam' fine of you, old man,” he mumbled between blistered lips. “I'm + Porter—'N' Division—taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort + Churchill—Tavish and his daughter. Made a hell of a mess of it, + haven't I?” + </p> + <p> + He struggled to his knees. + </p> + <p> + “There's brandy in our kit. It might help—over there,” and he nodded + toward the girl and the gray-bearded man on the blankets. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found the + sledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, and he saw + Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the alcohol lamp, where he + waited to help him with the dunnage. In those seconds he fought to get a + grip on himself. A quarter of an hour ago he had laughed at the thought of + the law. Never had it seemed to be so far away from him, and never had he + been more utterly isolated from the world. His mind was still a bit dazed + by the thing that had happened. The police had not trailed him. They had + not ferreted him out, nor had they stumbled upon him by accident. It was + he who had gone out into the night and deliberately dragged them in! Of + all the trickery fate had played upon him this was the least to be + expected. + </p> + <p> + His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the babiche + cordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. “N” Division, he told + himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. He had never heard of + Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the outfit was + evidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very likely that + Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, and especially + of Jolly Roger McKay. This was his one chance. To attempt an escape + through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard. It was death. + </p> + <p> + There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through the + hole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a flask of liquor to + the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at him with eyes + that were widening as the snow-sting left them. Tavish gulped, and his + mittened hand closed on the girl's arm. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right, Jo,” he mumbled. “All right—” + </p> + <p> + His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug-out. They + were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. Jolly Roger felt the + intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl a swallow of the brandy, and + then passed the flask to Porter. + </p> + <p> + “You have saved our lives,” said Tavish, in a voice that was clearer. “I + don't just understand how it happened. I remember stumbling in the + darkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind the sledge. Porter and + Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my daughter, was sheltered under + the blankets. After that—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. He pointed + to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted there was someone + outside, and they had taken a chance by going in search of them. He was + John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm had caught him fifty miles + from his cabin. He was traveling without a dog-sledge, and had only a + pack-outfit. + </p> + <p> + Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening to him. + One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the wilderness man + of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a strange sort of way. And + then, as if catching himself, he nodded, and began rubbing his frosted + face with handfuls of snow. + </p> + <p> + Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of the dunnage + sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than the other two. + Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes turned to Jolly Roger. + They were large, fine eyes, wide open and clear now. There was something + of splendid strength about her as she smiled at McKay. She was not of the + hysterical sort. He could see that. + </p> + <p> + “If we could have some hot soup,” she suggested. “May we?” + </p> + <p> + There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to express in + words. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind her, and watched + her as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed the cheeks of the + bearded man with snow. + </p> + <p> + “There's an alcohol stove in the other pack,” said Breault, with his hard, + narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. “By the way, what did + you say your name was?” + </p> + <p> + “Cummings—John Cummings.” + </p> + <p> + Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger felt + stealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup and ate + bannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy fur garment that + enveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. Her eyes were bright, and + in her voice was a tremble of happiness at finding warmth and life where + she had expected death. Porter's friendliness was almost brotherly. He + explained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had deserted them, + stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams and one of their + sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a drift into which + they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth as a table. They had + shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed—not because they expected to + find assistance—but on account of Tavish falling in the storm, and + losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought, that Superintendent + Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should have given up the ghost + so easily. + </p> + <p> + Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with the + possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet Jolly + Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially attentive. + There was something repressive and mysterious about the man, and the girl + would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he happened to speak, + and the softness of her mouth would harden in an instant. He understood + the significance of her gladness, and of Porter's, for twice he saw their + hands come together, and their fingers entwine. And in their eyes was + something which they could not hide when they looked at each other. But + Breault puzzled him. He did not know that Breault was the best man-hunter + in “N” Division, which reached from Athabasca Landing to the Arctic Ocean, + or that up and down the two thousand-mile stretch of the Three River + Country he was known as Shingoos, the Ferret. + </p> + <p> + The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's + shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and breathed + deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at the pale + face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay. + </p> + <p> + “She's mine,” he whispered. “We're going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand. + </p> + <p> + He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “I know how you feel,” he said. “When I heard her calling out there—it + made me think—of a girl down south.” + </p> + <p> + “Down south?” queried Porter. “Why down south—if you care for her—and + you up here?” + </p> + <p> + McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor Porter + knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was listening. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the storm + had caught his attention. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm going + to dig out another room—for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll need the + convenience of a private room before we're able to move. It's an easy job—and + passes the time away.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll help,” offered Porter. + </p> + <p> + For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. During that + hour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile curled his thin lips + as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last Porter turned in, and slept, + the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished his room, and + was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door out of the drift, + when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which Porter had used. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take my turn,” he said. “I'm a bit nervous, and not at all sleepy, + Cummings.” He began digging into the snow. “Been long in this country?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a silver + and a black.” + </p> + <p> + Breault grunted. + </p> + <p> + “You must have met Cassidy, then,” he said casually, without looking at + McKay. “Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I like + him. You know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Entered the service together,” said Breault. “But he's unlucky. For two + or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. Jolly Roger, + they call him—Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've heard I—rather + like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who—Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “Both.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. They were + mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining half closed + as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKay felt their + penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him, warning him of a + menace deadlier than the storm. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The man + lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that information, + will you?” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will.” + </p> + <p> + He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow slits of + Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox. + </p> + <p> + “You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for sticking up + that free trader's post a few years ago.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of snow. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell him that, too,” he said, chuckling at the obviousness of the + other's trap. “What do you think my cabin is, Breault—a Rest for + Homeless Outlaws?” + </p> + <p> + Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger caught it + over his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his load, Breault said: + </p> + <p> + “You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the winter somewhere + up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south—” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel. + </p> + <p> + “—who would like to see him,” finished Breault. + </p> + <p> + When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “I remember—Cassidy told me about this girl,” said Jolly Roger. “He + said—some day—he would trap this—this man—through + the girl. So if I happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to + the girl, it will help out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is there any + reward tacked to it? Anything in it for me?” + </p> + <p> + Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, puffing + out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about his thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to the storm,” he said. “I think it's getting worse—Cummings!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his bright + eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter—Peter—” + </p> + <p> + Tight fingers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spoken Peter's + name since the rescue of Breault. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—Peter—” + </p> + <p> + The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made no + response to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and challenging. + In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his arms. + </p> + <p> + The Ferret laughed. + </p> + <p> + “He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, and I + also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, if you ever + happen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, with whiskers on + him like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny name for a dog, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And—Mother of + Heaven!—listen to the wind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's a bad night,” said McKay. + </p> + <p> + He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was beating fast. + He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over the Barren more fiercely + than before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter into his eyes. + This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meant death. And + Breault knew it. He was in a trap—a trap built by himself. That is, + if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had. There was only + one way out—and that meant fight. + </p> + <p> + He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not look at + Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. He left the + alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread out his + bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a hole through + the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for ten minutes before + he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust of snow. With his eye + close to the aperture he could see Breault. The Ferret was sitting up, and + leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an arm's length away. He reached + over, and touched him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears to + hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porter + was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly. Breault + motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. Then Breault bent + over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear only the indistinct + monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly the change that came + into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he stared toward the inner room, + making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and the girl. + </p> + <p> + The Ferret stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't get excited. Let them sleep.” + </p> + <p> + McKay heard that much—and no more. For some time after that the two + men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultant + satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. Jolly + Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then he + lightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out in + the darkness until his hand found Peter. + </p> + <p> + “They think they've got us, boy,” he whispered, “They think they've got + us!” + </p> + <p> + Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter was wide + awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands and knees to + the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out the steady + breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way around the wall + of his room until he came to a place where the snow was very soft. + </p> + <p> + “An air-drift,” he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. “We'll fool + 'em, boy. And we'll fight—if we have to.” + </p> + <p> + He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air-drift like a + gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, heaving his body up + and down and sideways to pack the light snow, leaving a round tunnel two + feet in diameter behind him. Within an hour he had come to the outer crust + on the windward side of the big snow-dune. He did not break through this + crust, which was as tough as crystal-glass, but lay quietly for a time and + listened to the sweep of the wind outside. It was warm, and very + comfortable, and he had half-dozed off before he caught himself back into + wakefulness and returned to his room. The mouth of his tunnel he packed + with snow. After that he wound the blanket about him and gave himself up + calmly to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly Roger + in what would have been the early dawn outside the snow-dune. McKay felt + his restless movement, and opened his eyes. A faint light was illumining + his room, and he sat up. In the outer room the alcohol lamp was burning + again. He could hear movement, and voices that were very low and + indistinct. Carefully he dug out once more the little hole in the snow + wall, and widened the slit. + </p> + <p> + Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and close + beside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and fallen over her + shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her wide-open eyes as they + stared at the door between the two rooms. McKay could see her hand + clasping Porter's arm. Porter was talking, with his face so close to her + bent head that his lips touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger could + understand no word that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering the + exciting secret of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, for a + moment, a shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick, sibilant + whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a finger at her lips, + and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then his fingers closed + about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. McKay watched the long kiss + between them. The girl drew away quickly then, and Porter tucked the + blanket about her when she lay down beside her father. After that he + stretched out again beside Breault. + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a bit + nervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the alcohol lamp. + And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her of the + interesting discovery which Breault had made—and to kiss her. McKay + stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer hear the + storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent. + </p> + <p> + Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The last + time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, Josephine + Tavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay watched her as she + rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. She bent over Porter and + Breault to make sure they were asleep, and then came straight toward the + door of his room. + </p> + <p> + He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped closely + about Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, boy,” he whispered. “Be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl stood + there, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and before he + closed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward him. In a moment she + was bending over him. He could feel the soft caress of her loose hair on + his face and hands. Then she knelt quietly down beside him, stroking Peter + with her hand, and shook him lightly by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Jolly Roger!” she whispered. “Jolly Roger McKay!” + </p> + <p> + He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied softly. “What is it, Miss Tavish?” + </p> + <p> + He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers tightened at + his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, until her hair + cluttered his throat and breast. + </p> + <p> + “You are—awake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must get away—somewhere. + You must go before Breault awakens in the morning. I think the storm is + over—there is no wind—and if you are here when day comes—” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in the + darkness he found her hand. It clasped his own—firm, warm, + thrilling. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for what you have done,” she whispered. “But the law—and + Breault—they have no mercy!” + </p> + <p> + She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the slit in + the wall until she was with her father again. + </p> + <p> + In the gloom he drew Peter close to him. + </p> + <p> + “We're up against it again, Pied-Bot,” he confided under his breath. + “We've got to take another chance.” + </p> + <p> + He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was ready, + and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the outer room then, + where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger pantomimed his desire as she + sat up. He wanted something from one of the packs. She nodded. On his + knees he fumbled in the dunnage, and when he rose to his feet, facing the + girl, her eyes opened wide at what he held in his hand—a small + packet of old newspapers her father was taking to the factor at Fort + Churchill. She saw the hungry, apologetic look in his eyes, and her + woman's heart understood. She smiled gently at him, and her lips formed an + unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go. At the door he looked + back. He thought she was beautiful then, with her shining hair and eyes, + and her lips parted, and her hands half reaching out to him, as if in that + moment of parting she was giving him courage and faith. Suddenly she + pressed the palms of her fingers to her mouth and sent the kiss of + benediction to him through the twilight glow of the snow-room. + </p> + <p> + A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close behind him, + there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. Again he was fleeing + from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had predicted in her sorcery, + there were happiness and hope in his going. And always there was someone + to urge him on, and to take a pride in him, like Josephine Tavish. + </p> + <p> + He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and crawled out + into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The sky was heavy + overhead, and the wind had died out. It was the beginning of the brief + lull which came in the second day of the Great Storm. + </p> + <p> + McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied-Bot,” he + said. “We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles south.” + </p> + <p> + He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling straight away + from the first hole he had cut through the shell of the drift. From that + door, made by the outlaw who had saved them, Josephine Tavish watched the + shadowy forms of man and dog until they were lost in the gray-white chaos + of a frozen world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles southward + from the big dune on the Barren. For a day and a night he made his camp in + the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless tundras reaching to the + Arctic. He believed he was safe, for the unceasing wind and the blasts of + shot-like snow filled his tracks a few moments after they were made. He + struck a straight line for his cabin after that first day and night in the + scrub timber. The storm was still a thing of terrific force out on the + barren, but in the timber he was fairly well sheltered. He was convinced + the police patrol would find his cabin very soon after the storm had worn + itself out. Porter and Tavish did not trouble him. But from Breault he + knew there was no getting away. Breault would nose out his cabin. And for + that reason he was determined to reach it first. + </p> + <p> + The second night he did not sleep. His mind was a wild thing—wild as + a Loup-Garou seeking out its ghostly trails; it passed beyond his mastery, + keeping sleep away from him though he was dead tired. It carried him back + over all the steps of his outlawry, visioning for him the score of times + he had escaped, as he was narrowly escaping now; and it pictured for him, + like a creature of inquisition, the tightening net ahead of him, the final + futility of all his effort. And at last, as if moved by pity to ease his + suffering a little, it brought him back vividly to the green valley, the + flowers and the blue skies of Cragg's Ridge—and Nada. + </p> + <p> + It was like a dream. At times he could scarcely assure himself that he had + actually lived those weeks and months of happiness down on the edge of + civilization; it seemed impossible that Nada had come like an Angel into + his life down there, and that she had loved him, even when he confessed + himself a fugitive from the law and had entreated him to take her with + him. He closed his eyes and that last roaring night of storm at Cragg's + Ridge was about him again. He was in the little old Missioner's cabin, + with thunder and lightning rending earth and sky outside and Nada was in + his arms, her lips against his, the piteous heartbreak of despair in her + eyes. Then he saw her—a moment later—a crumpled heap down + beside the chair, the disheveled glory of her hair hiding her white face + from him as he hesitated for a single instant before opening the door and + plunging out into the night. + </p> + <p> + With a cry he sprang up, dashing the vision from him, and threw fresh fuel + on the fire. And he cried out the same old thought to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been murder for us to bring her, Pied-Bot. It would have + been murder!” + </p> + <p> + He looked about him at the swirling chaos outside the rim of light made by + his fire and listened to the moaning of the wind over the treetops. Beyond + the circle of light the dry snow, which crunched like sand under his feet, + was lost in ghostly gloom. It was forty degrees below zero. And he was + glad, even with this sickness of despair in his heart, that she was not a + fugitive with him tonight. + </p> + <p> + Yet he built up a little make-believe world for himself as he sat with a + blanket hugged close about him, staring into the fire. In a hundred + different ways he saw her face, a will-o-the-wisp thing amid the flames; + an illusive, very girlish, almost childish face—yet always with the + light of a woman's soul shining in it. That was the miracle which startled + him at last. It seemed as if the fiction he built up in his despair + transformed itself subtly into fact and that her soul had come to him from + out of the southland and was speaking to him with eyes which never changed + or faltered in their adoration, their faith and their courage. She seemed + to come to him, to creep into his arms under the folds of the blanket and + he sensed the soft crush of her hair, the touch of her lips, the warm + encircling of her arms about his neck. Closer to him pressed the mystery, + until the beating of her heart was a living pulse against him; and then—suddenly, + as an irresistible impulse closed his arms to hold the spirit to him, his + eyes were drawn to the heart of the fire, and he saw there for an instant, + wide-eyed and speaking to him, the face of Yellow Bird the Indian + sorceress. The flames crept up the long braids of her hair, her lips + moved, and then she was gone—but slowly, like a ghost slipping + upward into the mist of smoke and night. + </p> + <p> + Peter heard his master's cry. And after that Jolly Roger rose up and threw + off the blanket and walked back and forth until his feet trod a path in + the snow. He told himself it was madness to believe, and yet he believed. + Faith fought itself back into that dark citadel of his heart from which + for a time it had been driven. New courage lighted up again the black + chaos of his soul. And at last he fell down on his knees and gripped + Peter's shaggy head between his two hands. + </p> + <p> + “Pied-Bot, she said everything would come out right in the end,” he cried, + a new note in his voice. “That's what Yellow Bird told us, wasn't it? + Mebby they would have burned her as a witch a long time ago because she's + a sorceress, and says she can send her soul out of her body and see what + we can't see. BUT WE BELIEVE!” His voice choked up, and he laughed. “They + were both here tonight,” he added. “Nada—and Yellow Bird. And I + believe—I believe—I know what it means!” + </p> + <p> + He stood up again, and Peter saw the old smile on his master's lips as + Jolly Roger looked up into the swirling black canopy of the spruce-tops. + And the wailing of the storm seemed no longer to hold menace and taunt, + but in it he heard the whisper of fierce, strong voices urging upon him + the conviction that had already swept indecision from his heart. + </p> + <p> + And then he said, holding out his arms as if encompassing something which + he could not see. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, we're going back to Nada!” + </p> + <p> + Dawn was a scarcely perceptible thing when it came. Darkness seemed to + fade a little, that was all. Frosty shapes took form in the gloom, and the + spruce-tops became tangible in an abyss of sepulchral shadow overhead. + </p> + <p> + Through this beginning of the barren-land day Jolly Roger set out in the + direction of his cabin and in his blood was that new singing thing of fire + and warmth that more than made up for the hours of sleep he had lost + during the night. The storm was dying out, he thought, and it was growing + warmer; yet the wind whistled and raved in the open spaces and his + thermometer registered the fortieth and a fraction degree below zero. The + air he breathed was softer, he fancied, yet it was still heavy with the + stinging shot of blizzard; and where yesterday he had seen only the + smothering chaos of twisted spruce and piled up snow, there was now—as + the pale day broadened—his old wonderland of savage beauty, awaiting + only a flash of sunlight to transform it into the pure glory of a thing + indescribable. But the sun did not come and Jolly Roger did not miss it + over-much for his heart was full of Nada, and a-thrill with the + inspiration of his home-going. + </p> + <p> + “That's what it means, GOING HOME” he said to Peter, who nosed close in + the path of his snowshoes. “There's a thousand miles between us and + Cragg's Ridge, a thousand miles of snow and ice—and hell, mebby. But + we'll make it!” + </p> + <p> + He was sure of himself now. It was as if he had come up from out of the + shadow of a great sickness. He had been unwise. He had not reasoned as a + man should reason. The hangman might be waiting for him at Cragg's Ridge, + down on the rim of civilization, but that same grim executioner was also + pursuing close at his heels. He would always be pursuing in the form of a + Breault, a Cassidy, a Tavish, or a Somebody Else of the Royal Northwest + Mounted Police. It would be that way until the end came. And when the end + did come, when they finally got him, the blow would be easier at Cragg's + Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren Land. + </p> + <p> + And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that with Nada + he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the sorceress, had promised + for them—that mystery-place of safety and of happiness which she had + called The Country Beyond, where “all would end well.” He had not the + faith of Yellow Bird's people; he was not superstitious enough to believe + fully in her sorcery, except that he seized upon it as a drowning man + might grip at a floating sea-weed. Yet was the under-current of hope so + persistent that at times it was near faith. Up to this hour Yellow Bird's + sorcery had brought him nothing but the truth. For him she had conjured + the spirits of her people, and these spirits, speaking through Yellow + Bird's lips, had saved him from Cassidy at the fishing camp and had + performed the miracle on the shore of Wollaston and had predicted the + salvation that had come to him out on the Barren. And so—was it not + conceivable that the other would also come true? + </p> + <p> + But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled through the + hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring himself physically + into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy of her in his arms once + more, the crush of her lips to his, the caress of her hands in their old + sweet way at his face—and to hear her voice, the girl's voice with + the woman's soul behind it, crying out its undying love, as he had last + heard it that night in the Missioner's cabin many months ago. After this + had happened, then—if fate decreed it so—all other things + might end. Breault, the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or that Somebody + Else who was always on his trail. If the game finished thus, he would be + satisfied. + </p> + <p> + When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat Jolly + Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “The big thing we must do is to get there—safely,” he said, already + beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then he went on, + building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while he crunched his + luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There was something joyous and + definite in his voice which entered into Peter's blood and body. There was + even a note of excitement in it, and Peter's whiskers bristled with fresh + courage and his eyes gleamed and his tail thumped the snow + comprehendingly. It was like having a master come back to him from the + dead. + </p> + <p> + And Jolly Roger even laughed, softly, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “This is February,” he said. “We ought to make it late in March. I mean + Cragg's Ridge, Pied-Bot.” + </p> + <p> + After that they went on, traveling hard to reach their cabin before the + darkness of night, which would drop upon them like a thick blanket at four + o'clock. In these last hours there pressed even more heavily upon Jolly + Roger that growing realization of the vastness and emptiness of the world. + It was as if blindness had dropped from his eyes and he saw the naked + truth at last. Out of this world everything had emptied itself until it + held only Nada. Only she counted. Only she held out her arms to him, + entreating him to keep for her that life in his body which meant so little + in all other ways. He thought of one of the little worn books which he + carried in his shoulder-pack—Jeanne D'Arc. As she had fought, with + the guidance of God, so he believed the blue-eyed girl down at Cragg's + Ridge was fighting for him, and had sent her spirit out in quest of him. + And he was going back to her. GOING! + </p> + <p> + The last word, as it came from his lips, meant that nothing would stop + them. He almost shouted it. And Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + In spite of their effort, darkness closed in on them. With the first dusk + of this night there came sudden lulls in which the blizzard seemed to have + exhausted itself. Jolly Roger read the signs. By tomorrow there would be + no storm and Breault the Ferret would be on the trail again, along with + Porter and Tavish. + </p> + <p> + It was his old craft, his old cunning, that urged him to go on. Strangely, + he prayed for the blizzard not to give up the ghost. Something must be + accomplished before its fury was spent; and he was glad when after each + lull he heard again the moaning and screeching of it over the open spaces, + and the slashing together of spruce tops where there was cover. In a chaos + of gloom they came to the low ridge which reached across an open sweep of + tundra to the finger of shelter where the cabin was built. An hour later + they were at its door. Jolly Roger opened it and staggered in. For a space + he stood leaning against the wall while his lungs drank in the warmer air. + The intake of his breath made a whistling sound and he was surprised to + find himself so near exhaustion. He heard the thud of Peter's body as it + collapsed to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Tired, Pied-Bot?” + </p> + <p> + It was difficult for his storm-beaten lips to speak the words. + </p> + <p> + Peter thumped his tail. The rat-tap-tap of it came in one of those lulls + of the storm which Jolly Roger had begun to dread. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it keeps up another two hours,” he said, wetting his lips to take + the stiffness out of them. “If it doesn't—” + </p> + <p> + He was thinking of Breault as he drew off his mittens and fumbled for a + match. It was Breault he feared. The Ferret would find his cabin and his + trail if the storm died out too soon. + </p> + <p> + He lighted the tin lamp on his table and after that, assured that + wastefulness would cost him nothing now, he set two bear-drip candles + going, one at each end of the cabin. The illumination filled the single + room. There was little for it to reveal—the table he had made, a + chair, a battered little sheet-iron stove, and the humped up blanket in + his bunk, under which he had stored the remainder of his possessions. Back + of the stove was a pile of dry wood, and in another five minutes the roar + of flames in the chimney mingled with a fresh bluster of the wind outside. + </p> + <p> + Defying the exhaustion of limbs and body, Jolly Roger kept steadily at + work. He threw off his heavier garments as the freezing atmosphere of the + room became warmer, and prepared for a feast. + </p> + <p> + “We'll call it Christmas, and have everything we've got, Pied-Bot. We'll + cook a quart of prunes instead of six. No use stinting ourselves—tonight!” + </p> + <p> + Even Peter was amazed at the prodigality of his master. An hour later they + ate, and McKay drank a quart of hot coffee before he was done. Half of his + fatigue was gone and he sat back for a few minutes to finish off with the + luxury of his pipe. Peter, gorged with caribou meat, stretched himself out + to sleep. But his eyes did not close. His master puzzled him. For after a + little Jolly Roger put on his heavy coat and parkee and pocketed his pipe. + After that he slipped the straps of his pack over head and shoulders and + then, even more to Peter's bewilderment, emptied a quart bottle of + kerosene over the pile of dry wood behind the hot stove. To this he + touched a lighted match. His next movement drew from Peter a startled + yelp. With a single thrust of his foot he sent the stove crashing into the + middle of the floor. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, when Peter and Jolly Roger looked back from the crest + of the ridge, a red pillar of flame lighted up the gloomy chaos of the + unpeopled world they were leaving behind them. The wind was driving + fiercely from the Barren and with it came stinging volleys of the fine + drift-snow. In the teeth of it Roger McKay stared back. + </p> + <p> + “It's a good fire,” he mumbled in his hood. “Half an hour and it will be + out. There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind keeps up another + two hours—nothing but drift-snow, with no sign of trail or cabin.” + </p> + <p> + He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge. Straight south he went, + keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift covered his + snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made. Darkness did not trouble him + now. The open barren was ahead, miles of it, while only a little to the + westward was the shelter of timber. Twice he blundered to the edge of this + timber, but quickly set his course again in the open, with the wind always + quartering at his back. He could only guess how long he kept on. The time + came when he began to count the swing of his snowshoes, measuring off half + a mile, or a mile, and then beginning over again until at last the + achievement of five hundred steps seemed to take an immeasurable length of + time and great effort. Like the ache of a tooth came the first warning of + snowshoe cramp in his legs. In the black night he grinned. He knew what it + meant—a warning as deadly as swimmer's cramp in deep water. If he + continued much longer he would be crawling on his hands and knees. + </p> + <p> + Quickly he turned in the direction of the timber. He had traveled three + hours, he thought, since abandoning his cabin to the flames. Another half + hour, with the caution of slower, shorter steps, brought him to the + timber. Luck was with him and he cried aloud to Peter as he felt himself + in the darkness of a dense cover of spruce and balsam. He freed himself + from his entangled snowshoes and went on deeper into the shelter. It + became warmer and they could feel no longer a breath of the wind. + </p> + <p> + He unloaded his pack and drew from it a jackpine torch, dried in his cabin + and heavy with pitch. Shortly the flare of this torch lighted up their + refuge for a dozen paces about them. In the illumination of it, moving it + from place to place, he gathered dry fire wood and with his axe cut down + green spruce for the smouldering back-fire that would last until morning. + By the time the torch had consumed itself the fire was burning, and where + Jolly Roger had scraped away the snow from the thick carpet of spruce + needles underfoot he piled a thick mass of balsam boughs, and in the + center of the bed he buried himself, wrapped warmly in his blankets, and + with Peter snuggled close at his side. + </p> + <p> + Through dark hours the green spruce fire burned slowly and steadily. For a + long time there was wailing of wind out in the open. But at last it died + away, and utter stillness filled the world. No life moved in these hours + which followed the giving up of the big storm's last gasping breath. + Slowly the sky cleared. Here and there a star burned through. But Jolly + Roger and Peter, deep in the sleep of exhaustion, knew nothing of the + change. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + It was Peter who roused Jolly Roger many hours later; Peter nosing about + the still burning embers of the fire, and at last muzzling his master's + face with increasing anxiety. McKay sat up out of his nest of balsam + boughs and blankets and caught the bright glint of sunlight through the + treetops. He rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure. Then he looked + at his watch. It was ten o'clock and peering in the direction of the open + he saw the white edge of it glistening in the unclouded blaze of a sun. It + was the first sun—the first real sun—he had seen for many + days, and with Peter he went to the rim of the barren a hundred yards + distant. He wanted to shout. As far as he could see the white plain was + ablaze with eye-blinding light, and never had the sky at Cragg's Ridge + been clearer than the sky that was over him now. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the fire, singing. Back through the months leapt Peter's + memory to the time when his master had sung like that. It was in Indian + Tom's cabin, with Cragg's Ridge just beyond the creek, and it was in those + days before Terence Cassidy had come to drive them to another hiding + place; in the happy days of Nada's visits and of their trysts under the + Ridge, when even the little gray mother mouse lived in a paradise with her + nest of babies in the box on their cabin shelf. He had almost forgotten + but it came back to him now. It was the old Jolly Roger—the old + master come to life again. + </p> + <p> + In the clear stillness of the morning one might have heard that shouting + song half a mile away. But McKay was no longer afraid. As the storm seemed + to have cleaned the world so the sun cleared his soul of its last shadow + of doubt. It was not merely an omen or a promise, but for him proclaimed a + certainty. God was with him. Life was with him. His world was opening its + arms to him again—and he sang as if Nada was only a mile away from + him instead of a thousand. + </p> + <p> + When he went on, after their breakfast, he laughed at the thought of + Breault discovering their trail. The Ferret would be more than human to do + that after what wind and storm and fire had done for them. + </p> + <p> + This first day of their pilgrimage into the southland was a day of glory + from its beginning until the setting of the sun. There was no cloud in the + sky. And it grew warmer, until Jolly Roger flung back the hood of his + parkee and turned up the fur of his cap. That night a million stars + lighted the heaven. + </p> + <p> + After this first day and night nothing could break down the hope and + confidence of Jolly Roger and his, dog. Peter knew they were going south, + in which direction lay everything he had ever yearned for; and each night + beside their campfire McKay made a note with pencil and paper and measured + the distance they had come and the distance they had yet to go. Hope in a + little while became certainty. Into his mind urged no thought of changes + that might have taken place at Cragg's Ridge; or, if the thought did come, + it caused him no uneasiness. Now that Jed Hawkins was dead Nada would be + with the little old Missioner in whose care he had left her, and not for + an instant did a doubt cloud the growing happiness of his anticipations. + Breault and the hunters of the law were the one worry that lay ahead and + behind him. If he outwitted them he would find Nada waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + Day after day they kept south and west until they struck the Thelon; and + then through a country unmapped, and at times terrific in its cold and + storm, they fought steadily to the frozen regions of the Dubawnt + waterways. Only once in the first three weeks did they seek human company. + This was at a small Indian camp where Jolly Roger bartered for caribou + meat and moccasins for Peter's feet. Twice between there and God's Lake + they stopped at trappers' cabins. + </p> + <p> + It was early in March when they struck the Lost Lake country, three + hundred miles from Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + And here it was, buried under a blind of soft snow, that Peter nosed out + the frozen carcass of a disemboweled buck which Boileau, the French + trapper, had poisoned for wolves. Jolly Roger had built a fire and was + warming half a pint of deer tallow for a baking of bannock, when Peter + dragged himself in, his rear legs already stiffening with the palsy of + strychnine. In a dozen seconds McKay had the warm tallow down Peter's + throat, to the last drop of it; and this he followed with another dose as + quickly as he could heat it, and in the end Peter gave up what he had + eaten. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Boileau, who was eating his dinner, jumped up in + wonderment when the door of his cabin was suddenly opened by a grim and + white-faced man who carried the limp body of a dog in his arms. + </p> + <p> + For a long time after this the shadow of death hung over the Frenchman's + trapping-shack. To Boileau, with his brotherly sympathy and regret that + his poison-bait had brought calamity, Peter was “just dog.” But when at + last he saw the strong shoulders of the grim-faced stranger shaking over + Peter's paralyzed body and listened to the sobbing grief that broke in + passionate protest from his white lips, he drew back a little awed. It + seemed for a time that Peter was dead; and in those moments Jolly Roger + put his arms about him and buried his despairing face in Peter's scraggly + neck, calling in a wild fit of anguish for him to come back, to live, to + open his eyes again. Boileau, crossing himself, felt of Peter's body and + McKay heard his voice over him, saying that the dog was not dead, but that + his heart was beating steadily and that he thought the last stiffening + blow of the poison was over. To McKay it was like bringing the dead back + to life. He raised his head and drew away his arms and knelt beside the + bunk stunned and mutely hopeful while Boileau took his place and began + dropping warm condensed milk down Peter's throat. In a little while + Peter's eyes opened and he gave a great sigh. + </p> + <p> + Boileau looked up and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That was a good breath, m'sieu,” he said. “What is left of the poison has + done its worst. He will live.” + </p> + <p> + A bit stupidly McKay rose to his feet. He swayed a little, and for the + first time sensed the hot tears that had blinded his eyes and wet his + cheeks. And then there came a sobbing laugh out of his throat and he went + to the window of the Frenchman's shack and stared out into the white + world, seeing nothing. He had stood in the presence of death many times + before but never had that presence choked up his heart as in this hour + when the soul of Peter, his comrade, had stood falteringly for a space + half-way between the living and the dead. + </p> + <p> + When he turned from the window Boileau was covering Peter's body with + blankets and a warm bear skin. And for many days thereafter Peter was + nursed through the slow sickness which followed. + </p> + <p> + An early spring came this year in the northland. South of the Reindeer + waterway country the snows were disappearing late in March and ice was + rotting the first week in April. Winds came from the south and west and + the sun was warmer and clearer than Boileau had ever known it at the + winter's end in Lost Lake country. It was in this first week of April that + Peter was able to travel, and McKay pointed his trail once more for + Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + He left a part of his winter dunnage at Boileau's shack and went on light, + figuring to reach Cragg's Ridge before the new “goose moon” had worn + itself out in the west. But for a week Peter lagged and until the darker + red in the rims of his eyes cleared away Jolly Roger checked the impetus + of his travel so that the goose moon had faded out and the “frog moon” of + May was in its full before they came down the last slope that dipped from + the Height of Land to the forests and lakes of the lower country. + </p> + <p> + And now, in these days, it seemed to Jolly Roger that a great kindness, + and not tragedy, had delayed him so that his “home coming” was in the + gladness of spring. All about him was the sweetness and mystic whispering + of new life just awakening. It was in the sky and the sun; it was + underfoot, in the fragrance of the mold he trod upon, in the trees about + him, and in the mate-chirping of the birds flocking back from the + southland. His friends the jays were raucous and jaunty again, bullying + and bluffing in the warmth of sunshine; the black glint of crows' wings + flashed across the opens; the wood-sappers and pewees and big-eyed + moose-birds were aflutter with the excitement of home planning; partridges + were feasting on the swelling poplar buds—and then, one glorious + sunset, he heard the chirruping evening song of his first robin. + </p> + <p> + And the next day they would reach Cragg's Ridge! + </p> + <p> + Half of that last night he sat up, awake, or smoked in the glow of his + fire, waiting for the dawn. With the first lifting of darkness he was + traveling swiftly ahead of Peter and the morning was only half gone when + he saw far ahead of him the great ridge which shut out Indian Tom's swamp, + and Nada's plain, and Cragg's Ridge beyond it. + </p> + <p> + It was noon when he stood at the crest of this. He was breathing hard, for + to reach this last precious height from which he might look upon the + country of Nada's home he had half run up its rock-strewn side. There, + with his lungs gasping for air, his eager eyes shot over the country below + him and for a moment the significance of the thing which he saw did not + strike him. And then in another instant it seemed that his heart choked + up, like a fist suddenly tightened, and stopped its beating. + </p> + <p> + Reaching away from him, miles upon miles of it, east, west and south—was + a dead and char-stricken world. + </p> + <p> + Up to the foot of the ridge itself had come the devastation of flame, and + where it had swept, months ago, there was now no sign of the glorious + spring that lay behind him. + </p> + <p> + He looked for Indian Tom's swamp, and where it had been there was no + longer a swamp but a stricken chaos of ten thousand black stubs, the + shriven corpses of the spruce and cedar and jackpines out of which the + wolves had howled at night. + </p> + <p> + He looked for the timber on Sucker Creek where the little old Missioner's + cabin lay, and where he had dreamed that Nada would be waiting for him. + And he saw no timber there but only the littleness and emptiness of a + blackened world. + </p> + <p> + And then he looked to Cragg's Ridge, and along the bald crest of it, naked + as death, he saw blackened stubs pointing skyward, painting desolation + against the blue of the heaven beyond. + </p> + <p> + A cry came from him, a cry of fear and of horror, for he was looking upon + the fulfilment of Yellow Bird's prediction. He seemed to hear, whispering + softly in his ears, the low, sweet voice of the sorceress, as on the night + when she had told him that if he returned to Cragg's Ridge he would find a + world that had turned black with ruin and that it would not be there he + would ever find Nada. + </p> + <p> + After that one sobbing cry he tore like a madman dawn into the valley, + traveling swiftly through the muck of fire and under-foot tangle with + Peter fighting behind him. Half an hour later he stood where the + Missioner's cabin had been and he found only a ruin of ash and logs burned + down to the earth. Where the trail had run there was no longer a trail. A + blight, grim and sickening, lay upon the earth that had been paradise. + </p> + <p> + Peter heard the choking sound in his master's throat and chest. He, too, + sensed the black shadow of tragedy and cautiously he sniffed the air, + knowing that at last they were home—and yet it was not home. + Instinctively he had faced Cragg's Ridge and Jolly Roger, seeing the dog's + stiffened body pointing toward the break beyond which lay Nada's old home, + felt a thrill of hope leap up within him. Possibly the farther plain had + escaped the scourge of fire. If so, Nada would be there, and the Missioner— + </p> + <p> + He started for the break, a mile away. As he came nearer to it his hope + grew less for he could see where the flames had swept in an inundating sea + along Cragg's Ridge. They passed over the meadow where the thick young + jackpines, the red strawberries and the blue violets had been and Peter + heard the strange sob when they came to the little hollow—the old + trysting place where Nada had first given herself into his master's arms. + And there it was that Peter forgot master and caution and sped swiftly + ahead to the break that cut the Ridge in twain. + </p> + <p> + When Jolly Roger came to that break and ran through it he was staggering + from the mad effort he had made. And then, all at once, the last of his + wind came in a cry of gladness. He swayed against a rock and stood there + staring wild-eyed at what was before him. The world was as black ahead of + him as it was behind. But Jed Hawkins' cabin was untouched! The fire had + crept up to its very door and there it had died. + </p> + <p> + He went on the remaining hundred yards and before the closed door of + Nada's old home he found Peter standing stiff-legged and strange. He + opened the door and a damp chill touched his face. The cabin was empty. + And the gloom and desolation of a grave filled the place. + </p> + <p> + He stepped in, a moaning whisper of the truth coming to his lips. He heard + the scurrying flight of a starved wood-rat, a flutter of loose papers, and + then the silence of death fell about him. The door of Nada's little room + was open and he entered through it. The bed was naked and there remained + only the skeleton of things that had been. + </p> + <p> + He moved now like a man numbed by a strange sickness and Peter followed + gloomily and silently in the footsteps of his master. They went outside + and a distance away Jolly Roger saw a thing rising up out of the char of + fire, ugly and foreboding, like the evil spirit of desolation itself. It + was a rude cross made of saplings, up which the flames had licked their + way, searing it grim and black. + </p> + <p> + His hands clenched slowly for he knew that under the cross lay the body of + Jed Hawkins, the fiend who had destroyed his world. + </p> + <p> + After that he re-entered the cabin and went into Nada's room, closing the + door behind him; and for many minutes thereafter Peter remained outside + guarding the outer door, and hearing no sound or movement from within. + </p> + <p> + When Jolly Roger came out his face was set and white, and he looked where + the thick forest had stood on that stormy night when he ran down the trail + toward Mooney's cabin. There was no forest now. But he found the old + tie-cutters' road, cluttered as it was with the debris of fire, and he + knew when he came to that twist in the trail where long ago Jed Hawkins + had lain dead on his back. Half a mile beyond he came to the railroad. + Here it was that the fire had burned hottest, for as far as his vision + went he could see no sign of life or of forest green alight in the waning + sun. + </p> + <p> + And now there fell upon him, along with the desolation of despair, a + something grimmer and more terrible—a thing that was fear. About him + everywhere reached this graveyard of death, leaving no spot untouched. Was + it possible that Nada and the Missioner had not escaped its fury? The fear + settled upon him more heavily as the sun went down and the gloom of + evening came, bringing with it an unpleasant chill and a cloying odor of + things burned dead. + </p> + <p> + He did not talk to Peter now. There was a lamp in the cabin and wood + behind the stove, and silently he built a fire and trimmed and lighted the + wick when darkness came. And Peter, as if hiding from the ghosts of + yesterday, slunk into a corner and lay there unmoving and still. And McKay + did not get supper nor did he smoke, but after a long time he carried his + blankets into Nada's room, and spread them out upon her bed. Then he put + out the light and quietly laid himself down where through the nights of + many a month and year Nada had slept in the moon glow. + </p> + <p> + The moon was there tonight. The faint glow of it rose in the east and + swiftly it climbed over the ragged shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, flooding the + blackened world with light and filling the room with a soft and golden + radiance. It was a moon undimmed, full and round and yellow; and it seemed + to smile in through the window as if some living spirit in it had not yet + missed Nada, and was embracing her in its glory. And now it came upon + Jolly Roger why she had loved it even more than she had loved the sun; for + through the little window it shut out all the rest of the world, and + sitting up, he seemed to hear her heart beating at his side and clearly he + saw her face in the light of it and her slim arms out-reaching, as if to + gather it to her breast. Thus—many times, she had told him—had + she sat up in her bed to greet the moon and to look for the smiling face + that was almost always there, the face of the Man in the Moon, her friend + and playmate in the sky. + </p> + <p> + For a space his heart leapt up; and then, as if discovery of the usurper + in her room had come, a cloud swept over the face of the moon like a + mighty hand and darkness crowded him in. But the cloud sailed on and the + light drove out the gloom again. Then it was that Jolly Roger saw the Old + Man in the Moon was up and awake tonight, for never had he seen his face + more clearly. Often had Nada pointed it out to him in her adorable faith + that the Old Man loved her, telling him how this feature changed and that + feature changed, how sometimes the Old Man looked sick and at others well, + and how there were times when he smiled and was happy and other times when + he was sad and stern and sat there in his castle in the sky sunk in a + mysterious grief which she could not understand. + </p> + <p> + “And always I can tell whether I'm going to be glad or sorry by the look + of the Man in the Moon,” she had said to him. “He looks down and tells me + even when the clouds are thick and he can only peep through now and then. + And he knows a lot about you, Mister—Jolly Roger—because I've + told him everything.” + </p> + <p> + Very quietly Jolly Roger got up from the bed and very strange seemed his + manner to Peter as he walked through the outer room and into the night + beyond. There he stood making no sound or movement, like one of the + lifeless stubs left by fire; and Peter looked up, as his master was + looking, trying to make out what it was he saw in the sky. And nothing was + there—nothing that he had not seen many times before; a billion + stars, and the moon riding King among them all, and fleecy clouds as if + made of web, and stillness, a great stillness that was like sleep in the + lap of the world. + </p> + <p> + For a little Jolly Roger was silent and then Peter heard him saying, + </p> + <p> + “Yellow Bird was right—again. She said we'd find a black world down + here and we've found it. And we're going to find Nada where she told us + we'd find her, in that place she called The Country Beyond—the + country beyond the forests, beyond the tall trees and the big swamps, + beyond everything we've ever known of the wild and open spaces; the + country where God lives in churches on Sunday and where people would laugh + at some of our queer notions, Pied-Bot. It's there we'll find Nada, driven + out by the fire, and waiting for us now in the settlements.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a strange and quiet conviction, the haggard look dying out + of his face as he stared up into the splendor of the sky. + </p> + <p> + And then he said. + </p> + <p> + “We won't sleep tonight, Peter. We'll travel with the moon.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, as the lonely figures of man and dog headed for the + first settlement a dozen miles away, there seemed to come for an instant + the flash of a satisfied smile in the face of the Man in the sky. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + From the cabin McKay went first to the great rock that jutted from the + broken shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, and as they stood there Peter heard the + strange something that was like a laugh, and yet was not a laugh, on his + master's lips. But his scraggly face did not look up. There was an + answering whimper in his throat. He had been slow in sensing the + significance of the mysterious thing that had changed his old home since + months ago. During the hours of afternoon, and these moonlit hours that + followed, he tried to understand. He knew this was home. Yet the green + grass was gone, and a million trees had changed into blackened stubs. The + world was no longer shut in by deep forests. And Cragg's Ridge was naked + where he and Nada had romped in sunshine and flowers, and out of it all + rose the mucky death-smell of the flame-swept earth. These things he + understood, in his dog way. But what he could not understand clearly was + why Nada was not in the cabin, and why they did not find her, even though + the world was changed. + </p> + <p> + He sat back on his haunches, and Jolly Roger heard again the whimpering + grief in his throat. It comforted the man to know that Peter remembered, + and he was not alone in his desolation. Gently he placed a soot-grimed + hand on his comrade's head. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, it was from this rock—right where we're standing now—that + I first saw her, a long time ago,” he said, a bit of forced cheer breaking + through the huskiness of his voice. “Remember the little jackpine clump + down there? You climbed up onto her lap, a little know-nothing thing, and + you pawed in her loose curls, and growled so fiercely I could hear you. + And when I made a noise, and she looked up, I thought she was the most + beautiful thing I had ever seen—just a kid, with those eyes like the + flowers, and her hair shining in the sun, an' tear stains on her cheeks. + Tear stains, Pied-Bot—because of that snake who's dead over there. + Remember how you growled at me, Peter?” + </p> + <p> + Peter wriggled an answer. + </p> + <p> + “That was the beginning,” said Jolly Roger, “and this—looks like the + end. But—” + </p> + <p> + He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the grotesque + movement of his shadow on the rock. + </p> + <p> + “We're going to find her before that end comes,” he added defiantly. + “We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us to the settlements—right + up into the face of the law.” + </p> + <p> + He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the deadness + of the world about them. Again he followed where once had been the trail + that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line of rail that rambled + for eighty miles into the wilderness from Fort William. The P. D. & W. + it was named—Port Arthur, Duluth & Western; but it had never + reached Duluth, and there were those who had nicknamed it Poverty, + Destruction & Want. Many times Jolly Roger had laughed at the queer + stories Nada told him about it; how a wrecking outfit was always carried + behind on the twice-a-week train, and how the crew picked berries in + season, and had their trapping lines, and once chased a bear half way to + Whitefish Lake while the train waited for hours. She called it the “Cannon + Ball,” because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine miles in + twenty-four hours. But there was nothing of humor about it as Jolly Roger + and Peter came out upon it tonight. It stretched out both ways from them, + a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from where they stood + it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea. + </p> + <p> + Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. And the + whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him, urging + him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked for Nada + in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward. + </p> + <p> + But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties + one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and about them, + and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads, the + journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For the silver and gold of the + moon and the black muck of the fire refused to mingle, and while over + their heads they could see the tiniest clouds and beyond to the farthest + stars, all was black emptiness when they looked about them upon what once + had been a living earth. Only the two lines of steel caught the moon-glow + and the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs that rose up out of the + earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against the sky. + </p> + <p> + To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not hear or + smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed watchfulness against + impending evil. Under many moons he had traveled with his master in their + never-ending flight from the law, and many other nights with neither moon + nor stars had they felt out their trails together. But always, under him + and over him on all sides of him, there had been LIFE. And tonight there + was no life, nor smell of life. There was no chirp of night bird, or + flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry of loon. He listened in + vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the whisper of wind in treetops. + And there was no smell—no musk of mink that had crossed his path, no + taste in the air of the strong scented fox, no subtle breath of partridge + and rabbit and fleshy porcupine. And even from the far distances there + came no sound, no howl of wolf, no castanet clatter of stout moose horns + against bending saplings—not even the howl of a trapper's dog. + </p> + <p> + The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as if some + fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's feet. To McKay, + sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came understanding that + brought with it an uneasiness which changed swiftly into the chill of a + growing fear. The utter lifelessness told him how vast the destruction of + the fire had been. Its obliteration was so great no life had adventured + back into the desolated country, though the conflagration must have passed + in the preceding autumn, many months ago. The burned country was a grave + and the nearest edge of it, judged from the sepulchral stillness of the + night, was many miles away. + </p> + <p> + For the first time came the horror of the thought that in such a fire as + this people must have died. It had swept upon them like a tidal wave, + galloping the forests with the speed of a race horse, with only this thin + line of rail leading to the freedom of life outside. In places only a + miracle could have made escape possible. And here, where Nada had lived, + with the pitch-wood forests crowding close, the fire must have burned most + fiercely. In this moment, when fear of the unspeakable set his heart + trembling, his faith fastened itself grimly to the little old gray + Missioner, Father John, in whose cabin Nada had taken refuge many months + ago, when Jed Hawkins lay dead in the trail with his one-eyed face turned + up to the thunder and lightning in the sky. Father John, on that stormy + night when he fled north, had promised to care for Nada, and in silence he + breathed a prayer that the Missioner had saved her from the red death that + had swept like an avalanche upon them. He told himself it must be so. He + cried out the words aloud, and Peter heard him, and followed closer, so + that his head touched his master's leg as he walked. + </p> + <p> + But the fear was there. From a spark it grew into a red-hot spot in Jolly + Roger's heart. Twice in his own life he had raced against death in a + forest fire. But never had he seen a fire like this must have been. All at + once he seemed to hear the roar of it in his ears, the rolling thunder of + the earth as it twisted in the cataclysm of flame, the hissing shriek of + the flaming pitch-tops as they leapt in lightning fires against the + smoke-smothered sky. A few hours ago he had stood where Father John's + Cabin had been and the place was a ruin of char and ash. If the fire had + hemmed them in and they had not escaped— + </p> + <p> + His voice cried out in sudden protest. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be, Peter. It can't be! They made the rail—or the lake—and + we'll find them in the settlements. It couldn't happen. God wouldn't let + her die like that!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and stared into the moon-broken gloom on his left. Something + was there, fifty feet away, that drew him down through the muck which lay + knee deep in the right-of-way ditch. It was what was left of the cutter's + cabin, a clutter of burned logs, a wind scattered heap of ash. Even there, + within arm's reach of the railroad, there had been no salvation from the + fire. + </p> + <p> + He waded again through the muck of the ditch, and went on. Mentally and + physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving to achieve + possession of his brain. Over and over he repeated his faith that Nada and + the Missioner had escaped and he would find them in the settlements. Less + than ever he thought of the law in these hours. What happened to himself + was of small importance now, if he could find Nada alive before the menace + caught up with him from behind, or ambushed him ahead. Yet the necessity + of caution impinged itself upon him even in the recklessness of his + determination to find her if he had to walk into the arms of the law that + was hunting him. + </p> + <p> + For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed to turn + its face to look at them; and behind them, when they looked back, the + world was transformed into a black pit, while ahead—with the glow of + it streaming over their shoulders—ghostly shapes took form, and + vision reached farther. Twice they caught the silvery gleam of lakes + through the tree-stubs, and again they walked with the rippling murmur of + a stream that kept for a mile within the sound of their ears. But even + here, with water crying out its invitation to life, there was no life. + </p> + <p> + Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster as he + strained his eyes to see ahead. Somewhere near, within a mile or two, was + the first settlement with its sawmill and its bunkhouses, its one store + and its few cabins, with flat mountains of sawdust on one side of it, and + the evergreen forest creeping up to its doors on the other. Surely they + would find life here, where there had been man power to hold fire back + from the clearing. And it was here he might find Nada and the Missioner, + for more than once Father John had preached to the red-cheeked women and + children and the clear-eyed men of the Finnish community that thrived + there. + </p> + <p> + But as they drew nearer he listened in vain for the bark of a dog, and his + eyes quested as futilely for a point of light in the wide canopy of gloom. + At last, close together, they rounded a curve in the road, and crossed a + small bridge with a creek running below, and McKay knew his arm should be + able to send a stone to what he was seeking ahead. And then, a minute + later, he drew in a great gasping breath of unbelief and horror. + </p> + <p> + For the settlement was no longer in the clearing between him and the + rim-glow of the moon. No living tree raised its head against the sky, no + sign of cabin or mill shadowed the earth, and where the store had been, + and the little church with its white-painted cross, was only a chaos of + empty gloom. + </p> + <p> + He went down, as he had gone to the tie cutter's cabin, and for many + minutes he stared and listened, while Peter seemed to stand without + breathing. Then making a wide megaphone of his hands, he shouted. It was + an alarming thing to do and Peter started as if struck. For there were + only ghosts to answer back and the hollowness of a shriven pit for the cry + to travel in. Nothing was there. Even the great sawdust piles had shrunk + into black scars under the scourge of the fire. + </p> + <p> + A groaning agony was in the breath of Jolly Roger's lips as he went back + to the railroad and hurried on Death must have come here, death sudden and + swift. And if it had fallen upon the Finnish settlement, with its strong + women and its stronger men, what might it not have done in the cabin of + the little old gray Missioner—and Nada? + </p> + <p> + For a long time after that he forgot Peter was with him. He forgot + everything but his desire to reach a living thing. At times, where the + road-bed was smooth, he almost ran, and at others he paused for a little + to gather his breath and listen. And it was Peter, in one of these + intervals, who caught the first message of life. From a long distance away + came faintly the barking of a dog. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile farther on they came to a clearing where no stubs of trees + stood up like question marks against the sky, and in this clearing was a + cabin, a dark blotch that was without light or sound. But from behind it + the dog barked again, and Jolly Roger made quickly toward it. Here there + was no ash under his feet, and he knew that at last he had found an oasis + of life in the desolation. Loudly he knocked with his fist at the cabin + door and soon there was a response inside, the heavy movement of a man's + body getting out of bed, and after that the questioning voice of a woman. + He knocked again and the flare of a lighted match illumined the window. + Then came the drawing of a bar at the door and a man stood there in his + night attire, a man with a heavy face and bristling beard, and a lamp in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for waking you,” said Jolly Roger, “but I am just down + from the north, hoping to find my friends back here and I have seen + nothing but destruction and death. You are the first living soul I have + found to ask about them.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were they?” grunted the man. + </p> + <p> + “At Cragg's Ridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Then God help them,” came the woman's voice from back in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Cragg's Ridge,” said the man, “was a burning hell in the middle of the + night.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger's fingers dug into the wood at the edge of the door. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “A lot of 'em died,” said the man stolidly, as if eager to rid himself of + the one who had broken his sleep. “If it was Mooney, he's dead. An' if it + was Robson, or Jake the Swede, or the Adams family—they're dead, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't,” said Jolly Roger, his heart choking between fear and + hope. “It was Father John, the Missioner, and Nada Hawkins, who lived with + him—or with her foster-mother in the Hawkins' cabin.” + </p> + <p> + The man shook his head, and turned down the wick of his lamp. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno about the girl, or the old witch who was her mother,” he said, + “but the Missioner made it out safe, and went to the settlements.” + </p> + <p> + “And no girl was with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, there was no girl,” came the woman's voice again, and Peter jerked up + his ears at the creaking of a bed. “Father John stopped here the second + day after the fire had passed, and he said he was gathering up the bones + of the dead. Nada Hawkins wasn't with him, and he didn't say who had died + and who hadn't. But I think—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped as the bearded man turned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You think what?” demanded Jolly Roger, stepping half into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the woman, “that she died along with the others. Anyway, + Jed Hawkins' witch-woman was burned trying to make for the lake, and + little of her was left.” + </p> + <p> + The man with the lamp made a movement as if to close the door. + </p> + <p> + “That's all we know,” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake—don't!” entreated Jolly Roger, barring the door with + his arm. “Surely there were some who escaped from Cragg's Ridge and + beyond!” + </p> + <p> + “Mebby a half, mebby less,” said the man. “I tell you it burned like hell, + and the worst of it came in the middle of the night with a wind behind it + that blew a hurricane. We've twenty acres cleared here, with the cabin in + the center of it, an' it singed my beard and burned her hair and scorched + our hands, and my pigs died out there from the heat of it. Mebby it's a + place to sleep in for the night you want, stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm going on,” said Jolly Roger, the blood in his veins running with + the chill of water. “How far before I come to the end of fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten miles on. It started this side of the next settlement.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger drew back and the door closed, and standing on the railroad + once more he saw the light go out and after that the occasional barking of + the settler's dog grew fainter and fainter behind them. + </p> + <p> + He felt a great weariness in his bones and body now. With hope struck down + the exhaustion of two nights and a day without sleep seized upon him and + his feet plodded more and more slowly over the uneven ties of the road. + Even in his weariness he fought madly against the thought that Nada was + dead and he repeated the word “impossible—impossible” so often that + it ran in sing-song through his brain. And he could not keep away from him + the white, thin face of the Missioner, who had promised on his faith In + God to care for Nada, and who had passed the settler's cabin ALONE. + </p> + <p> + Another two hours they went on and then came the first of the green + timber. Under the shelter of some balsams Jolly Roger found a resting + place and there they waited for the break of dawn. Peter stretched out and + slept. But Jolly Roger sat with his head and shoulders against the bole of + a tree, and not until the light of the moon was driven away by the + darkness that preceded dawn by an hour or two did his eyes close in + restless slumber. He was roused by the wakening twitter of birds and in + the cold water of a creek that ran near he bathed his face and hands. + Peter wondered why there was no fire and no breakfast this morning. + </p> + <p> + The settlement was only a little way ahead and it was very early when they + reached it. People were still in their beds and out of only one chimney + was smoke rising into the clear calm of the breaking day. From this cabin + a young man came, and stood for a moment after he had closed the door, + yawning and stretching his arms and looking up to see what sort of promise + the sky held for the day. After that he went to a stable of logs, and + Jolly Roger followed him there. + </p> + <p> + He was unlike the bearded settler, and nodded with a youthful smile of + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” he said. “You're traveling early, and—” + </p> + <p> + He looked more keenly as his eyes took in Jolly Roger's boots and clothes, + and the gray pallor in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Just get in?” he asked kindly. “And—from the burnt country?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from the burnt country. I've been away a long time, and I'm trying + to find out if my friends are among the living or the dead. Did you ever + hear of Father John, the Missioner at Cragg's Ridge?” + </p> + <p> + The young man's face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “I knew him,” he said. “He helped me to bury my brother, three years ago. + And if it's him you seek, he is safe. He went up to Fort William a week + after the fire, and that was in September, eight months past.” + </p> + <p> + “And was there with him a girl named Nada Hawkins?” asked Jolly Roger, + trying hard to speak calmly as he looked into the other's face. + </p> + <p> + The youth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, he was alone. He slept in my cabin overnight, and he said nothing of + a girl named Nada Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak of others?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very tired, and I think he was half dead with grief at what had + happened. He spoke no names that I remember.” + </p> + <p> + Then he saw the gray look in Jolly Roger's face grow deeper, and saw the + despair which could not hide itself in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But there were a number of girls who passed here, alone or with their + friends,” he said hopefully. “What sort of looking girl was Nada Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “A—kid. That's what I called her,” said Jolly Roger, in a dead, cold + voice. “Eighteen, and beautiful, with blue eyes, and brown hair that she + couldn't keep from blowing in curls about her face. So like an angel you + wouldn't forget her if you'd seen her—just once.” + </p> + <p> + Gently the youth placed a hand on Jolly Roger's arm. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't come this way,” he said, “but maybe you'll find her somewhere + else. Won't you have breakfast with me? I've a stranger in the cabin, + still sleeping, who's going into the fire country from which you've come. + He's hunting for some one, and maybe you can give him information. He's + going to Cragg's Ridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Cragg's Ridge!” exclaimed Jolly Roger. “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Breault,” said the youth. “Sergeant Breault, of the Royal Northwest + Mounted Police.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger turned to stroke the neck of a horse waiting for its morning + feed. But he felt nothing of the touch of flesh under his hand. Cold as + iron went his heart, and for half a minute he made no answer. Then he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, friend. I breakfasted before it was light and I'm hitting out + into the brush west and north, for the Rainy River country. Please don't + tell this man Breault that you saw me, for he'll think badly of me for not + waiting to give him information he might want. But—you understand—if + you loved the brother who died—that it's hard for me to talk with + anyone just now.” + </p> + <p> + The young man's fingers touched his arm again. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he said, “and I hope to God you'll find her.” + </p> + <p> + Silently they shook hands, and Jolly Roger hurried away from the cabin + with the rising spiral of smoke. + </p> + <p> + Three days later a man and a dog came from the burned country into the + town of Fort William, seeking for a wandering messenger of God who called + himself Father John, and a young and beautiful girl whose name was Nada + Hawkins. He stopped first at the old mission, in whose shadow the Indians + and traders of a century before had bartered their wares, and Father + Augustine, the aged patriarch who talked with him, murmured as he went + that he was a strange man, and a sick one, with a little madness lurking + in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + And it was, in fact, a madness of despair eating out the life in Jolly + Roger's heart. For he no longer had hope Nada had escaped the fire, even + though at no place had he found a conclusive evidence of her death. But + that signified little, for there were many of the missing who had not been + found between the last of September and these days of May. What he did + find, with deadly regularity, was the fact that Father John had escaped—and + that he had traveled to safety ALONE. + </p> + <p> + And Father Augustine told him that when Father John stopped to rest for a + few days at the Mission he was heading north, for somewhere on Pashkokogon + Lake near the river Albany. + </p> + <p> + There was little rest for Peter and his master at Fort William town. That + Breault must be close on their trail, and following it with the merciless + determination of the ferret from which he had been named, there was no + shadow of doubt in the mind of Jolly Roger McKay. So after outfitting his + pack at a little corner shop, where Breault would be slow to enquire about + him, he struck north through the bush toward Dog Lake and the river of the + same name. Five or six days, he thought, would bring him to Father John + and the truth which he dreaded more and more to hear. + </p> + <p> + The despondency of his master had sunk, in some mysterious way, into the + soul of Peter. Without the understanding of language he sensed the + oppressive gloom of tragedy behind and about him and there was a wolfish + slinking in the manner of his travel now, and his confidence was going as + he caught the disease of despair of the man who traveled with him. But + constantly and vigilantly his eyes and scent were questing about them, + suspicious of the very winds that whispered in the treetops. And at night + after they had built their little cooking fire in the deepest heart of the + bush he would lie half awake during the hours of darkness, the + watchfulness of his senses never completely dulled in the stupor of sleep. + </p> + <p> + Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly Roger's face + had grown grayer and thinner. A number of times he had tried to assure + himself what he would do in that moment which was coming when he would + stand face to face with Breault the man-hunter. His caution, after he left + Fort William, was in a way an automatic instinct that worked for + self-preservation in face of the fact that he was growing less and less + concerned regarding Breault's appearance. It was not in his desire to + delay the end much longer. The chase had been a long one, with its thrills + and its happiness at times, but now he was growing tired and with Nada + gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead. If she were dead he wanted to go + to her. That thought was a dawning pleasure in his breast, and it was warm + in his heart when he tied in a hard knot the buckskin string which locked + the flap of his pistol holster. When Breault overtook him the law would + know, because of the significance of this knot, that he had welcomed the + end of the game. + </p> + <p> + Never in the northland had there come a spring more beautiful than this of + the year in which McKay and his dog went through the deep wilds to + Pashkokogon Lake. In a few hours, it seemed, the last chill died out of + the air and there came the soft whispers of those bridal-weeks between May + and Summer, a month ahead of their time. But Jolly Roger, for the first + time in his life, failed to respond to the wonder and beauty of the + earth's rejoicing. The first flowers did not fill him with the old joy. He + no longer stood up straight, with expanding chest, to drink in the rare + sweetness of air weighted with the tonic of balsams and cedar spruce. + Vainly he tried to lift up his soul with the song and bustle of mating + things. There was no longer music for him in the flood-time rushing of + spring waters. An utter loneliness filled the cry of the loon. And all + about him was a vast emptiness from which the spirit of life had fled for + him. + </p> + <p> + Thus he came at last to a stream in the Burntwood country which ran into + Pashkokogon Lake; and it was this day, in the mellow sunlight of late + afternoon, that they heard coming to them from out of the dense forest the + chopping of an axe. + </p> + <p> + Toward this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until in a + little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It was a newly + built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney. + </p> + <p> + But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of + evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their way and + came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the axe. It was then + that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, for the man was Father + John the Missioner. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little gray man + seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly Roger had fled to + the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as if only half believing, a + look of joy shining in his face as he realized the truth of what had + happened. “McKay,” he cried, reaching out his hands. “McKay, my boy!” + </p> + <p> + A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the change in + Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its mark upon it. + </p> + <p> + They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and answering with + the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner said: + </p> + <p> + “You have heard? Someone has told you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. “No one has told me,” + and he was thinking of Nada, and her death. + </p> + <p> + Father John's fingers tightened. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about,” he spoke in a + low voice. “Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!” + </p> + <p> + Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't kill him,” repeated Father John. “On that same night of + the storm when you thought you left him dead in the trail, he stumbled + back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance came soon. + </p> + <p> + “A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell from a + ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him buried in sight of + the cabin door—” + </p> + <p> + But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the Ferret and + the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck than he was of + another thing. And Father John was saying in a voice that seemed far away + and unreal: + </p> + <p> + “We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone would find + you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, and each hour of the + day the same prayer has been in her heart and on her lips. And now—” + </p> + <p> + Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin—someone, + a girl, and she was singing, + </p> + <p> + McKay's face went whiter than the gray ash of fire. + </p> + <p> + “My God,” he whispered huskily. “I thought—she had died!” + </p> + <p> + It was only then Father John understood the meaning of what he had seen in + his face. + </p> + <p> + “No, she is alive,” he cried. “I sent her straight north through the bush + with an Indian the day after the fire. And later I left word for you with + the Fire Relief Committee at Fort William, where I thought you would first + enquire.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was there,” said Jolly Roger, “that I did not enquire at all!” + </p> + <p> + In the edge of the clearing, close to the thicket of timber, Nada had + stopped. For across the open space a strange looking creature had raced at + the sound of her voice; a dog with bristling Airedale whiskers, and a + hound's legs, and wild-wolf's body hardened and roughened by months of + fighting in the wilderness. As in the days of his puppyhood, Peter leapt + up against her, and a cry burst from Nada's lips, a wild and sobbing cry + of PETER, PETER, PETER—and it was this cry Jolly Roger heard as he + tore away from Father John. + </p> + <p> + On her knees, with her arms about Peter's shaggy head, Nada stared wildly + at the clump of timber, and in a moment she saw a man break out of it, and + stand still, as if the mellow sunlight blinded him, and made him unable to + move. And the same choking weakness was at her own heart as she rose up + from Peter, and reached out her arms toward the gray figure in the edge of + the wood, sobbing, trying to speak and yet saying no word. + </p> + <p> + And a little slower, because of his age, Father John came a moment later, + and peered out with the knowledge of long years from a thicket of young + banksians, and when he saw the two in the open, close in each other's + arms, and Peter hopping madly about them, he drew out a handkerchief and + wiped his eyes, and went back then for the axe which he had dropped in the + timber clump. + </p> + <p> + There was a great drumming in Jolly Roger's head, and for a time he failed + even to hear Peter yelping at their side, for all the world was drowned in + those moments by the breaking sobs in Nada's breath and the wild thrill of + her body in his arms; and he saw nothing but the upturned face, crushed + close against his breast, and the wide-open eyes, and the lips to kiss. + And even Nada's face he seemed to see through a silvery mist, and he felt + her arms strangely about his neck, as if it was all half like a dream—a + dream of the kind that had come to him beside his campfire. It was a + little cry from Nada that drove the unreality away. + </p> + <p> + “Roger—you're—breaking me,” she cried, gasping for her breath + in his arms, yet without giving up the clasp of her own arms about his + neck in the least; and at that he sensed the brutality of his strength, + and held her off a little, looking into her face. + </p> + <p> + Pride and happiness and the courage in his heart would have slunk away + could he have seen himself then, as Father John saw him, coming from the + edge of the bush, and as Nada saw him, held there at the end of his arms. + Since the day he had come with Peter to Cragg's Ridge the blade of a razor + had not touched his face, and his beard was like a brush, and with it his + hair unkempt and straggling; and his eyes were red from sleeplessness and + the haunting of that grim despair which had dogged his footsteps. + </p> + <p> + But these things Nada did not see. Or, if she did, there must have been + something beautiful about them for her. For it was not a little girl, but + a woman who was standing there before Jolly Roger now—Nada grown + older, very much older it seemed to McKay, and taller, with her hair no + longer rioting free about her, but gathered up in a wonderful way on the + crown of her head. This change McKay discovered as she stood there, and it + swept upon him all in a moment, and with it the prick of something swift + and terrorizing inside him. She was not the little girl of Cragg's Ridge. + She was a WOMAN. In a year had come this miracle of change, and it + frightened him, for such a creature as this that stood before him now Jed + Hawkins would never have dared to curse or beat, and he—Roger McKay—was + afraid to gather her back into his arms again. + </p> + <p> + And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her + shoulders, he saw that which had not changed—the wonder-light in her + eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other day in Indian + Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and squeaked on the pantry + shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay with his broken leg in the + going down of the sun. And as he hesitated it was Nada herself who came + into his arms, and laid her head on his breast, and trembled and laughed + and cried there, while Father John came up and patted her shoulder, and + smiled happily at McKay, and then went on to the cabin in the clearing. + For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed his face in Nada's hair, and + neither said a word, but there was a strange throbbing of their hearts + together, and after a little Nada reached up a hand to his cheek, and + stroked it tenderly, bristly beard and all. + </p> + <p> + “I'll never let you run away from me again—Mister—Jolly + Roger,” she said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who + whispered the words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also + something very definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious thrill + of it as he raised his face from her hair, and saw once more the + sun-filled world about him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in the + cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical happening, + but more the mysterious FEEL of something impending and very near. The day + following their arrival in the Pashkokogon country his master seemed to + have forgotten him entirely. It was Nada who noticed him, but even she was + different; and Father John went about, overseeing two Indians whom he kept + very busy, his pale, thin face luminous with an anticipation which roused + Peter's curiosity, and kept him watchful. He was puzzled, too, by the odd + actions of the humans about him. The second morning Nada remained in her + room, and Jolly Roger wandered off into the woods without his breakfast, + and Father John ate alone, smiling gently as he looked at the tightly + closed door of Nada's bedroom. Even Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the + sleek-haired Indian woman who cared for the house, was nervously expectant + as she watched for Nada, and Mistoos, her husband, grunted and grimaced as + he carried in from the edge of the forest many loads of soft evergreens on + his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Into the forest Jolly Roger went alone, puffing furiously at his pipe. He + was all a-tremble and his blood seemed to quiver and dance as it ran + through his veins. Since the first rose-flush of dawn he had been awake, + fighting against this upsetting of every nerve that was in him. + </p> + <p> + He felt pitiably weak and helpless. But it was the weakness and + helplessness of a happiness too vast for him to measure. It was Nada in + her ragged shoes and dress, with the haunting torture of Jed Hawkins' + brutality in her eyes and face, that he had expected to find, if he found + her at all; someone to fight for, and kill for if necessary, someone his + muscle and brawn would always protect against evil. He had not dreamed + that in these many months with Father John she would change from “a little + kid goin' on eighteen” into—A WOMAN. + </p> + <p> + He tried to recall just what he had said to her last night—that he + was still an outlaw, and would always be, no matter how well he lived from + this day on; and that she, now that she had Father John's protection, was + very foolish to care for him, or keep her troth with him, and would be + happier if she could forget what had happened at Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + “You're a WOMAN now,” he said. “A WOMAN—” he had emphasized that—“and + you don't need me any more.” + </p> + <p> + And she had looked at him, without speaking, as if reading what was inside + him; and then, with a sudden little laugh, she swiftly pulled her hair + down about her shoulders, and repeated the very words she had said to him + a long time ago—“Without you—I'd want to die—Mister—Jolly + Roger,” and with that she turned and ran into the cabin, her hair flying + riotously, and he had not seen her again since that moment. + </p> + <p> + Since then his heart had behaved like a thing with the fever, and it was + beating swiftly now as he looked at his watch and noted the quick passing + of time. + </p> + <p> + Back in the cabin Peter was sniffing at the crack under Nada's door, and + listening to her movement. For a long time he had heard her, but not once + had she opened the door. And he wondered, after that, why Oosimisk and her + husband and Father John piled evergreens all about, until the cabin looked + like the little jackpine trysting-place down at Cragg's Ridge, even to the + soft carpet of grass on the floor, and flowers scattered all about. + </p> + <p> + Hopeless of understanding what it meant, he went outside, and waited in + the warm May-day sun until his master came back through the clearing. What + happened after that puzzled him greatly. When he followed Jolly Roger into + the cabin Mistoos and the Leaf Bud were seated in chairs, their hands + folded, and Father John stood behind a small table on which lay an open + book, and he was looking at his watch when they came in. He nodded, and + smiled, and very clearly Peter saw his master gulp, as if swallowing + something that was in his throat. And the ruddiness had gone completely + out of his smooth-shaven cheeks. It was the first time Peter had seen his + master so clearly afraid, and from his burrow in the evergreens he growled + under his breath, eyeing the open door with sudden thought of an enemy. + </p> + <p> + And then Father John was tapping at Nada's door. + </p> + <p> + He went back to the table and waited, and as the knob of the door turned + very slowly Jolly Roger swallowed again, and took a step toward it. It + opened, and Nada stood there. And Jolly Roger gave a little cry, so low + that Peter could just hear it, as he held out his hands to her. + </p> + <p> + For Nada was no longer the Nada who had come to him in Father John's + clearing. She was the Nada of Cragg's Ridge, the Nada of that wild night + of storm when he had fled into the north. Her hair fell about her, as in + the old days when Peter and she had played together among the rocks and + flowers, and her wedding dress was faded and torn, for it was the dress + she had worn that night of despair when she sent her message to Peter's + master, and on her little feet were shoes broken and disfigured by her + flight in those last hours of her mighty effort to go with the man she + loved. In Father John's eyes, as she stood there, was a great + astonishment; but in Jolly Roger's there came such a joy that, in answer + to it, Nada went straight into his arms and held up her lips to be kissed. + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks were very pink when she stood beside McKay, with Father John + before them, the open book in his hands; and then, as her long lashes + drooped over her eyes, and her breath came a little more quickly, she saw + Peter staring at her questioningly, and made a little motion to him with + her hand. He went to her, and her fingers touched his head as Father John + began speaking. Peter looked up, and listened, and was very quiet in these + moments. Jolly Roger was staring straight at the balsam-decked wall + opposite him, but there was something mighty strong and proud in the way + he held his head, and the fear had gone completely out of his eyes. And + Nada stood very close to him, so that her brown head lightly touched his + shoulder and he could see the silken shimmer of loose tresses which with + sweet intent she had let fall over his arm. And her little fingers clung + tightly to his thumb, as on that blessed night when they had walked + together across the plain below Cragg's Ridge, with the moon lighting + their way. + </p> + <p> + Peter, in his dog way, fell a-wondering as he stood there, but kept his + manners and remained still. When it was all over he felt a desire to show + his teeth and growl, for when Father John had kissed Nada, and was shaking + Jolly Roger's hand, he saw his mistress crying in that strange, silent way + he had so often seen her crying in his puppyhood days. Only now her blue + eyes were wide open as she looked at Jolly Roger, and her cheeks were + flushed to the pink of wild rose petals, and her lips were trembling a + little, and there was a tiny something pulsing in her soft white throat. + And all at once there came a smile with the tears, and Jolly Roger—turning + from Father John to find her thus—gathered her close in his arms, + and Peter wagged his tail and went out into the sun-filled day, where he + heard a red squirrel challenging him from a stub in the edge of the + clearing. + </p> + <p> + A little later he saw Nada and his master come out of the cabin, and walk + hand in hand across the open into the sweet-smelling timber where Father + John had been chopping with his axe. + </p> + <p> + On a fresh-cut log Nada sat down, and McKay sat beside her, still holding + her hand. Not once had he spoken in crossing the open, and it seemed as + though little devils were holding his lips closed now. + </p> + <p> + With her eyes looking down at the greening earth under their feet, Nada + said, very softly, + </p> + <p> + “Mister—Jolly Roger—are you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Glad that I am—your wife?” + </p> + <p> + The word drew a great, sobbing breath from him, and looking up suddenly + she saw that he was staring over the balsam-tops into the wonderful blue + of the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Your WIFE,” she whispered, touching his shoulder gently with her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm glad,” he said. “So glad that I'm—afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—if you are glad—please kiss me again.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up, and drew her to him, and held her face between his hands as + he kissed her red lips; and after that he kissed her shining hair again + and again, and when he let her go her eyes were a glory of happiness. + </p> + <p> + “And you will never run away from me again?” she demanded, holding him at + arm's length. “Never?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “Then—I want nothing more in this life,” she said, nestling against + him again. “Only you, for ever and ever.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger made no answer, but held her a long time in his arms, with the + soft beating of her heart against him, and listened to the twitter and + song of nesting and mating things about them. In this silence she lay + content, until Peter—growing restless—started quietly into the + golden depths of the forest. + </p> + <p> + It was Pied-Bot's going, cautious and soft-footed, as if danger and menace + might lurk just ahead of him, that brought another look into McKay's eyes + as Nada's hand crept to his cheek, and rested there. + </p> + <p> + “You love me—very much?” + </p> + <p> + “More than life,” he answered, and as he spoke he was watching Peter, + questing the soft wind that came whispering from the south. + </p> + <p> + Her finger touched his lips, gentle and sweet. + </p> + <p> + “And wherever you go, I go—forever and always?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, forever and always”—and his eyes were looking through miles + upon miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and pitiless + face of a man who was following his trail, Breault the Ferret. + </p> + <p> + His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face against + him. + </p> + <p> + “And I pray God you will never be sorry,” he said, still looking through + the miles of forest. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—sorry I shall never be,” she cried softly. “Not if we fly, + and go hungry, and fight—and die. Never shall I be sorry—with + you,” and he felt the tightening of her arms. + </p> + <p> + And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety smoothness + of her hair, she told him what Father John had already told him—of + her wild effort to overtake him in that night of storm when he had fled + from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's Ridge; and in turn he told her how + Peter came to him in the break of the morning with the treasure which had + saved him heart and soul, and how he had given that treasure into the + keeping of Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston. + </p> + <p> + And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time + sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only Yellow Bird + and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she learned how it was + that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in childhood days, and how he came to + be an outlaw for her in later manhood. Her eyes were shining when he had + finished, and her red lips were a-tremble with the quickness of her + breathing. + </p> + <p> + “Some day—you'll take me there,” she whispered. “Oh, I'm so proud of + you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day—we'll + go!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had grown in + his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me alive—” + </p> + <p> + And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found with + Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston. + </p> + <p> + And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon when + they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her room. + </p> + <p> + In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had been + preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear again. + </p> + <p> + And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of her, for + very completely she had transformed herself into a woman again, from the + softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her head to the coquettish + little slippers that set off her dainty feet. And he saw the white gleam + of soft shoulders and tender arms where once had been rags and bruises, + and held there by the slim beauty and exquisite daintiness of her he + stared like a fool, until suddenly she laughed joyously at his amaze, and + ran to him with wide-open arms, and kissed him so soundly that Peter + cocked up his ears a bit startled. And then she kissed Father John, and + after that was mistress at the table, radiant in her triumph and her eyes + starry with happiness. + </p> + <p> + And she was no longer shy in speaking his name, but called him Roger + boldly and many times, and twice during that meal of marvelous + forgetfulness—though long lashes covered her eyes when she spoke it—she + called him 'my husband.' + </p> + <p> + In truth she was a woman and for the most part Roger McKay—fighting + man and very strong though he was—looked at her in dumb worship, + speaking little, his heart a-throb, and his brain reeling in the marvel of + what at last had come into his possession. + </p> + <p> + And yet, even in this hour of supreme happiness that held him half mute, + there was always lurking in the back of his brain a thought of Breault, + the Ferret. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + In the star dusk of evening the time came when he spoke his fears to + Father John. + </p> + <p> + Nada had gone into her room, taking Peter with her, and out under the cool + of the skies Father John's pale face was turned up to the unending glory + of the firmament, and his lips were whispering a prayer of gratitude and + blessing, when Roger laid a hand gently on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he said, “it is a wonderful night.” + </p> + <p> + “A night of gladness and omen,” replied Father John. “See the stars! They + seem to be alive and rejoicing, and it is not sacrilege to believe they + are, giving you their benediction.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet—I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid?” + </p> + <p> + Father John looked into his eyes, and saw him staring off over the + forest-tops. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—afraid for her.” + </p> + <p> + Briefly he told him of what had happened on the Barren months ago, and how + he had narrowly escaped Breault in coming away from the burned country. + </p> + <p> + “He is on my trail,” he said, “and tonight he is not very far away.” + </p> + <p> + The Missioner's hand rested in a comforting way on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You did not kill Jed Hawkins, my son, and for that we have thanked God + each day and night of our lives—Nada and I. And each evening she has + prayed for you, kneeling at my side, and through every hour of the day I + know she was praying for you in her heart—and I believe in the + answer to prayer such as that, Roger. Her faith, now, is as deep as the + sea. And you, too, must have faith.” + </p> + <p> + “She is more precious to me than life—a thousand lives, if I had + them,” whispered Jolly Roger. “If anything should happen—now—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if the thing you fear should happen, what then?” cried Father John, + faith ringing like a note of inspiration in his low voice. “What, then, + Roger? You did not kill Jed Hawkins. If the law compels you to pay a price + for the errors it believes you have committed, will that price be so + terribly severe?” + </p> + <p> + “Prison, Father. Probably five years.” + </p> + <p> + Father John laughed softly, the star-glow revealing a radiance in his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Five years!” he repeated. “Oh, my boy, my dear boy, what are five years + to pay for such a treasure as that which has come into your possession + tonight? Five short years—only five. And she waiting for you, proud + of you for those very achievements which sent you to prison, planning for + all the future that lies beyond those five short years, growing sweeter + and more beautiful for you as she waits—Roger, is that a very great + sacrifice? Is it too great a price to pay? Five years, and after that—peace, + love, happiness for all time? Is it, Roger?” + </p> + <p> + McKay felt his voice tremble as he tried to answer. + </p> + <p> + “But she, father—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know what you would say,” interrupted Father John gently. “I + argued with her, just as you would have argued, Roger. I appealed to her + reason. I told her that if you returned it would mean prison for you, and + strangely I said that same thing—five years. But I found her + selfish, Roger, very selfish—and set upon her desire beyond all + reason. And it was she who asked first those very questions I have asked + you tonight. 'What are five years?' she demanded of me, defying my logic. + 'What are five years—or ten—or twenty, IF I KNOW I AM TO HAVE + HIM AFTER THAT?' Yes, she was selfish, Roger. Just that great is her love + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear God in Heaven,” breathed Jolly Roger, and stopped, his eyes staring + wide at the stars. + </p> + <p> + “And after that, after I had given in to her selfishness, Roger, she + planned how we—she and I—would live very near to the place + where they imprisoned you, and how each day some sight or sign should pass + between you, and the baby—” + </p> + <p> + “The baby, Father?” + </p> + <p> + “Thus it seems she dreams, Roger. She, in the wilfulness of her desire and + selfishness—” + </p> + <p> + With a choking cry Roger bowed his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Father John was silent. And then he said, so very low that it + was almost a whisper, + </p> + <p> + “I have passed many years in the wilderness, Roger, many years trying to + look into the hearts of people—and of God. And this—this love + of Nada's—is the greatest of all the miracles I have witnessed in a + life that is now reaching to its three score and five. Do you see the + wonder of it, son? And does it make you happy, and fearless now?” + </p> + <p> + He did not wait for an answer, but turned slowly and went in the direction + of the cabin, leaving Roger alone under the thickening stars. And McKay's + face was like Father John's, filled with a strange and wonderful radiance + when he looked up. But with that light of happiness was also the fiercer + underglow of a great determination. For Nada—for THE BABY—the + worst should not happen; he breathed the thought aloud, and in the words + was a prayer that God might help him, and make unnecessary the sacrifice + from which Father John had taken the sting of fear. And yet, if that + sacrifice came, he saw clearly now that it would not be a great tragedy + but only a brief shadow cast over the undying happiness in his soul. For + they—NADA AND THE BABY—would be waiting—waiting— + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he was conscious of a sound very near, and he beheld Nada, taller + and slimmer and more beautiful than ever, it seemed to him, in the + starlight. + </p> + <p> + “I have told him,” Father John had whispered to her only a moment before. + “I have told him, so that he will not fear prison—either for himself + or for you.” + </p> + <p> + And she had come to him quietly, all of the pretty triumph and playfulness + gone, so that she stood like an angel in the soft glow of the skies, much + older than he had ever seen her before, and smiled at him with a new and + wonderful tenderness as she held out her hands to him. + </p> + <p> + Not until she lay in his arms, looking up at him from under her long + lashes, did he dare to speak. And then, + </p> + <p> + “Is it true—what Father John has told me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” she whispered, and the silken lashes covered her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her hand crept up to his face in the silence that followed, and rested + there; and with no desire to hear more than the three words she had spoken + he crushed his lips in the sweet coils of her hair, and together, in that + peace ands understanding, they listened to the gentle whisperings of the + night. + </p> + <p> + “Roger,” she whispered at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my NEWA—” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean, Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “It means—beloved—wife” + </p> + <p> + “Then I like it. But I shall like the others—one of the others—best.” + </p> + <p> + “My—WIFE.” + </p> + <p> + “That—that makes me happiest, Roger. Your WIFE. Oh, it is the + sweetest word in the world, that—and—” + </p> + <p> + He felt her warm face hide itself softly against his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Mother,” she repeated after him in an awed little voice. “Oh, I + have dreamed of Mothers since I have been old enough to dream, Roger! My + Mother—I never had one that I can remember, except in a dream. It + must be wonderful to—to—have a Mother, Roger.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, I think, not quite so wonderful as to BE a Mother, my Nada.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Leaf Bud singing.” + </p> + <p> + “A love song?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in Cree.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head, so that her eyes were wide open, and looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Since we came up here all this wonderful world has been promising song + for me, Roger. And since you came back to me it has been singing—singing—singing—every + hour of night and day. Have you ever dreamed of leaving it, Roger—of + going down into that world of towns and cities of which Father John has + told me so much?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go there, Nada?” + </p> + <p> + “Only to look upon it, and come away. I want to live in the forests, where + I found you. Always and always, Roger.” + </p> + <p> + She raised herself on tip-toe, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “I want to live near Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud—please—Mister + Jolly Roger—I do. And Father John will go with us. And we'll be so + happy there all together, Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud and Giselle and I—oh!” + </p> + <p> + His arms had tightened so suddenly that the little cry came from her. + </p> + <p> + “And yet—I may have to leave you for a little time, Nada. But it + will not be for long. What are five years, when all life reaches out a + paradise before us? They are nothing—nothing—and will pass + swiftly—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will pass swiftly,” she said, so gently that scarce did he + hear. + </p> + <p> + But on his breast she gave a little sob which would not choke itself back, + a sob which bravely she smiled through a moment later, and which he—knowing + that it was best—made as if he had not heard. + </p> + <p> + And so, this night, while Father John and Peter waited and watched in the + cabin, did they plan their future in the company of the stars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + The Sabbath was a day of glory and peace in the Burntwood country. The sun + rose warm and golden, the birds were singing, and never had the air seemed + sweeter to Father John when he came out quietly from the cabin and + breathed it in the early break of dawn. Best of all he loved this very + beginning of day, before darkness was quite gone, when the world seemed to + be awakening mid sleepy whisperings and sounds came clearly from a long + distance. + </p> + <p> + This morning he heard the barking of a dog, a mile away it must have been, + and Peter, who followed close beside him, pricked up his ears at the sound + of it. Father John had noted Peter's vigilance, the cautious expectancy + with which he was always sniffing the air, and the keen alertness of his + eyes and ears. McKay had explained the reason for it. And this morning, as + they made their way down to the pool at the creekside, Peter's ceaseless + watching for danger held a deeper significance for Father John. All + through the night, in spite of his faith and his words of consolation, he + was thinking of the menace which was following McKay, and which eventually + must catch up with him. + </p> + <p> + And yet, how short a time was five years! Looking backward, each five + years of his life seemed but a yesterday. It was eight times five years + ago that a sweet-faced girl had first filled his life, as Nada filled + Jolly Roger's now, and through the thirty years since he had lost her he + could still hear her voice as clearly as though he had held her in his + arms only a few hours ago, so swift had been the passing of time. But + looking ahead, and not backward, five years seemed an eternity of time, + and the dread of it was in Father John's heart as he stood at the side of + the pool, with the first pink glow of sunrise coming to him over the + forest-tops. + </p> + <p> + Five years, and he was an old man now. A long and dreary wait it would be + for him. But for youth, the glorious youth of Roger and Nada, it would + seem very short when in later years they looked back upon it. And for a + time as he contemplated the long span of life that lay behind him, and the + briefness of that which lay ahead, a yearning selfishness possessed the + soul of Father John, an almost savage desire to hold those five years away + from the violation of the law—not alone for Nada's sake and Roger + McKay's—but for his own. In this twilight of a tragic life a great + happiness had come to him in the love of these two, and thought of its + menace, its desecration by a pitiless and mistaken justice, roused in him + something that was more like the soul of a fighting man than the spirit of + a missioner of God. + </p> + <p> + Vainly he tried to stamp out the evil of this resentment, for evil he + believed it to be. And shame possessed him when he saw the sweet glory in + Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness that was in Roger + McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, and the hidden fear which + he could not vanquish. + </p> + <p> + And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, being + Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and he preached to + them in the little mission house which they had helped him to build of + logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in Cree, and partly in English, and + his message was one of hope and inspiration, pointing out the silver + linings that always lay beyond the darkness of clouds. To McKay, holding + Nada's hand in his own as they listened, Father John's words brought a + great and comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and voice as she led in + Cree the song, “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” he heard and saw the living fire + of that faith, and had Breault come in through the open doorway then he + would have accepted him calmly as the beginning of that sacrifice which he + had made up his mind to make. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John heard + again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of questions about + her, and for the first time the Missioner learned of the inspiration which + the Indian woman's sorcery had been to Jolly Roger. + </p> + <p> + “It was foolish,” McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and faith + which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. “But—it helped me.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't foolish,” replied Nada quickly. “Yellow Bird DID come to me. + And—SHE KNEW.” + </p> + <p> + “No true faith is folly,” said Father John, in his soft, low voice. “The + great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was inspired by a great + confidence, and confidence and faith give to the mind a power which it is + utterly incapable of possessing without them. I believe in the mind, + children. I believe that in some day to come it will reach those heights + where it will unlock the mystery of life itself to us. I have seen many + strange things in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, and not the least + of these have been the achievements of the primitive mind. And it seems to + me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that has come true. And has it + occurred to you—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear in his + heart was driving him to say these things. + </p> + <p> + “What, father,” questioned Nada, bending toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost childish + curiosity, and you will laugh at me, my dear. I am wondering if it has + occurred to Roger the mysterious 'Country Beyond' of which Yellow Bird + dreamed might be the great country down there—south—BEYOND THE + BORDER—the United States?” + </p> + <p> + Something which he could not control seemed to drive the words from his + lips, and in an instant he saw that Nada had seized upon their + significance. Her eyes widened. The blue in them grew darker, and Roger + observed her fingers grip suddenly in the softness of her dress as she + turned from Father John to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Or—it might be China, or Africa, or the South Seas,” he tried to + laugh, remembering his old visions. “It might be—anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Nada's lips trembled, as if she were about to speak; and then very quietly + she sat, with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and Father John knew + she was not expressing the thought in her heart when she said, + </p> + <p> + “Someday I want to tell Yellow Bird how much I love her.” + </p> + <p> + Now in these hours since he and his master had come to the Burntwood it + seemed to Peter that he had lost something very great, for in his + happiness McKay had taken but scant notice of him, and Nada seemed to have + found a greater joy than that which a long time ago she had found in his + comradeship. So now, as she saw him lying in his loneliness a short + distance away, Nada suddenly ran to him, and together they went into the + thick screen of the balsams, Peter yipping joyously, and Nada without so + much as turning her head in the direction of Roger and Father John. But + even in that bird-like swiftness with which she had left them, Father John + had caught the look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I have made a mistake,” he confessed humbly. “I have sinned, because in + her I have roused the temptation to urge you to fly away with her—down + there—south. She is a woman, and being a woman she has infinite + faith in Yellow Bird, for Yellow Bird helped to give you to her. She + believes—” + </p> + <p> + “And I—I—also believe,” said McKay, staring at the green + balsams. + </p> + <p> + “And yet—it is better for you to remain. God means that judgment and + happiness should come in their turn.” + </p> + <p> + Jolly Roger rose to his feet, facing the south. + </p> + <p> + “It is a temptation, father. It would be hard to give her up—now. If + Breault would only wait a little while. But if he comes—NOW—” + </p> + <p> + He walked away slowly, following through the balsams where Nada and Peter + had gone. Father John watched him go, and a trembling smile came to his + lips when he was alone. In his heart he knew he was a coward, and that + these young people had been stronger than he. For in their happiness and + the faith which he had falsely built up in them they had resigned + themselves to the inevitable, while he, in these moments of cowardice, had + shown them the way to temptation. And yet as he stood there, looking in + the direction they had gone, he felt no remorse because of what he had + done, and a weight seemed to have lifted itself from his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + For a time the more selfish instincts of the man rose in him, fighting + down the sacrificial humility of the great faith of which he was a + messenger. The new sensation thrilled him, and in its thrill he felt his + heart beating a little faster, and hope rising in him. Five years were a + long time—FOR HIM. That was the thought which kept repeating itself + over and over in his brain, and with it came that other thought, that + self-preservation was the first law of existence, and therefore could not + be a sin. Thus did Father John turn traitor to his spoken words, though + his calm and smiling face gave no betrayal of it when Nada and Roger + returned to the cabin an hour later, their arms filled with red bakneesh + vines and early wildflowers. + </p> + <p> + Nada's cheeks were as pink as the bakneesh, and her eyes as blue as the + rock-violets she wore on her breast. + </p> + <p> + And Father John knew that Jolly Roger was no longer oppressed by the fear + of a menace which he was helpless to oppose, for there was something very + confident in the look of his eyes and the manner in which they rested upon + Nada. + </p> + <p> + Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early evening. + He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada again, hugging his + shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him in the old, excited way. + And strange memory of a bundle came back to Peter, for very quietly, as if + unseen ears might be listening to her, Nada gathered many things in a pile + on the table, and made another bundle. This bundle she thrust under her + bed, just as a long time ago she had thrust a similar bundle under a + banksian clump in the meadowland below Cragg's Ridge. + </p> + <p> + Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of Breault. + The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, and Breault + would surely go there before questing from cabin to cabin for his victim. + </p> + <p> + So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making a + sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, saying he had + business at the post that day, and without wakening them had made an early + start. This note Nada read to McKay when they sat at breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Quite frequently he has gone like that,” Nada explained. “He loves the + forests at night—in the light of the moon.” + </p> + <p> + “But last night there was no moon,” said Roger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” + </p> + <p> + “And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it was very + dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard him go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he wrote that + note in the candle-glow.” + </p> + <p> + “Roger, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed her + shining hair and questioning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to the post + to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in his heart he wants + us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. For he is sure that he knows + what Yellow Bird meant by 'The Country Beyond.' It is the great big world + outside the forests, a world so big that if need be we can put ourselves + ten thousand miles away from the trails of the mounted police. That is the + thought which is urging him to the post to look for Breault.” + </p> + <p> + Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with + eagerness she said, + </p> + <p> + “Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night—and it is under + the bed.” + </p> + <p> + He held her more closely. + </p> + <p> + “And you are willing to go with me—anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “To the end of the earth?” + </p> + <p> + Her crumpled head nodded against his breast. + </p> + <p> + “And leave Father John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for you. But I think—sometime—he will come to us.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers touched his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part of + the world, Roger.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us,” he laughed + happily. + </p> + <p> + “I'd love the desert, Roger.” + </p> + <p> + “Or an uninhabited island?” + </p> + <p> + Against him her head nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “I'd love life anywhere—WITH YOU.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—we'll go,” he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of + the joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, steadying + his voice until it was almost cold. “But it means giving up everything + you've dreamed of, Nada—these forests you love, Father John, Yellow + Bird, Sun Cloud—” + </p> + <p> + “I have only one dream,” she interrupted him softly. + </p> + <p> + “And five years will pass very quickly,” he continued. “Possibly it will + not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love will be free to + us forever. Gladly will I remain and take my punishment if in the end it + will make us happier, Nada.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only one dream,” she repeated, caressing his cheek with her hand, + “and that is you, Roger. Wherever you take me I shall be the happiest + woman in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “WOMAN,” he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am a woman—now” + </p> + <p> + “And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg's Ridge,” he cried with + sudden passion, crushing her close to him. “I'd lose my life sooner than I + would lose her, Nada—the little girl with flying hair and strawberry + stain on her nose, and who believed so faithfully in the Man in the Moon. + Always I shall worship her as the little goddess who came down to me from + somewhere in heaven!” + </p> + <p> + Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John's return, he saw + more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown the glory of + Nada's wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at the miracle of it. + There was something vastly sweet in the change of her. She was no longer + the utterly dependent little thing, possibly caring for him because he was + big and strong and able to protect her; she was a woman, and loved him as + a woman, and not because of fear or helplessness. And then came the + thrilling mystery of another thing. He found himself, in turn, beginning + to depend upon her, and in their planning her calm decision and quiet + reasoning strengthened him with new confidence and made his heart sing + with gladness. With his eyes on the smooth and velvety coils of hair which + she had twisted woman-like on her head, he said, + </p> + <p> + “With your hair like that you are my Margaret of Anjou, and the other way—with + it down you are my little Nada of Cragg's Ridge. And I—I don't quite + understand why God should be so good to me.” + </p> + <p> + And this day Peter was trying in his dumb way to analyze the change. The + touch of Nada's hand thrilled him, as it did a long time ago, and still he + sensed the difference. Her voice was even softer when she put her cheek + down to his whiskered face and talked to him, but in it he missed that + which he could not quite bring back clearly through the lapse of time—the + childish comradeship of her. Yet he began to worship her anew, even more + fiercely than he had loved the Nada of old. He was content now to lie with + his nose touching her foot or dress; but when in the sunset of early + evening she went into her room, and came out a little later with her + curling hair clouding her shoulders and breast, and tied with a faded + ribbon she had brought from Cragg's Ridge, he danced about her, yelping + joyously, and she accepted the challenge in a wild race with him to the + edge of the clearing. + </p> + <p> + Panting and flushed she ran back to Jolly Roger, and rested in his arms. + </p> + <p> + And it was McKay, with his face half hidden in her riotous hair, who saw a + figure come suddenly out of the forest at the far end of the clearing. It + was Father John. He saw him pause for an instant, and then stagger toward + them, swaying as if about to fall. + </p> + <p> + The sudden stopping of his breath—the tightening of his arms—drew + Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the little old + Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the clearing. With a cry she + was out of McKay's arms and running toward him. + </p> + <p> + Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His face was + tense and his breath came in choking gasps. But he tried to smile as he + clutched a hand at his breast. + </p> + <p> + “I have hurried,” he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, “and I + am—winded—” + </p> + <p> + He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger. + </p> + <p> + “Roger—I have hurried to tell you—Breault is coming. He cannot + be far behind me. Possibly half a mile, or a mile—” + </p> + <p> + In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I find—at last—that I was mistaken, child,” he said, very + calmly now. “I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be taken by + Breault. You must go. There is no time to lose. If Breault does not + stumble off the trail in this gloom he will be here in a few minutes. + Come.” + </p> + <p> + Not a word did Nada say as they went to the cabin, and McKay saw her tense + face as pale as an ivory cameo in the twilight. But something in the + up-tilt of her chin and the poise of her head assured him she was + prepared, and unafraid. + </p> + <p> + In the cabin the Leaf Bud met them, and to her Nada spoke quickly. There + was understanding between them, and Oosimisk dragged in a filled pack from + the kitchen while Nada ran into her room and came out with the bundle. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast + throbbing with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing more to make ready,” she said. “Yellow Bird has been + with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare. We have + everything we need.” + </p> + <p> + And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about his + neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Father, you will come to us?” she whispered. “You promise that?” + </p> + <p> + The Missioner's arms closed about her, and he bowed his face against her + lips and cheek. + </p> + <p> + “I pray God that it may be so,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Nada's arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came a + warning growl from outside the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + In another moment Father John had extinguished the light. + </p> + <p> + “Go, my children,” he commanded. “You must be quick. Twenty paces below + the pool is a canoe. I had one of my Indians leave it there yesterday, and + it is ready. Roger—Nada—” + </p> + <p> + He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you—both! And go south—always south. Now go—go! + I think I hear footsteps—” + </p> + <p> + He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with his pack. + Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he fastened his + fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” he whispered huskily. “Good-bye—Nada—Roger—” + </p> + <p> + A sob came back out of the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, father.” + </p> + <p> + And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift footsteps + of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing. + </p> + <p> + Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him as he + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “It's best for you to stay, Peter,” he tried to explain. “It's best for + you to stay—with me. For I think they are going a far distance, and + will come to a land where you would shrivel up and die. Besides, you could + not go in the canoe. So be good, and remain with me, Peter—with me—” + </p> + <p> + And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a strange + little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in darkness for a + light. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a match + and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John's waxen face grew out of + the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and scratched with, his paws at + the closed door. + </p> + <p> + Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark eyes + staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe. + </p> + <p> + In the old Missioner's face came a trembling smile and a look of triumph + as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze, + </p> + <p> + “All is well, Oosimisk,” he said quietly, speaking in Cree. “They are + safely away, and will not be caught. Continue with your duties and let no + one see that anything unusual has happened. Breault will come very soon.” + </p> + <p> + He straightened his shoulders, as if to give himself confidence and + strength, and then he called Peter, and comforted the dog whose master and + mistress were fleeing through the dark. + </p> + <p> + “They have reached the pool,” he said, seating himself and holding Peter's + shaggy head between his hands. “They have just about reached the pool, and + Breault must be entering the clearing on the other side. Roger cannot miss + the canoe—twenty paces down and with nothing to shadow it overhead; + I think he has found it by this time, and in another half minute they will + be off. And it is very black down the Burntwood, with deep timber close to + the water, and for many miles no man can follow by night along its + shores.” Suddenly his hands tightened, and the Leaf Bud, watching him + slyly, saw the last of suspense go out of his face. “And now—they + are safe,” he cried exultantly. “They must be on their way—and + Breault has not come across the clearing!” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet, and began pacing back and forth, while Peter sniffed + yearningly at the door again. Oosimisk, with the caution of her race in + moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, and Father + John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the man-hunter, + peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he walked back and + forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps. Peter, with a sigh, + gave up his scratching and settled himself on his haunches close to Nada's + door. + </p> + <p> + Father John, in passing him, paused to lay a hand on his head. + </p> + <p> + “Some day it may please God to let us go to them,” he consoled, speaking + for himself even more than for Peter. “Some day, when they are far away—and + safe.” + </p> + <p> + He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf Bud came + a low, swift word of warning. + </p> + <p> + She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean rattled under + her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing even as the cabin door + opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in it. + </p> + <p> + The unexpectedness of his appearance, without the sound of a warning + footstep outside, was amazing even to Peter. In the open door he stood for + a moment, his thin, ferret-like face standing out against the black + background of the night, and his strange eyes, apparently half closed yet + bright as diamonds, sweeping the interior without effort but with the + quickness of lightning. + </p> + <p> + There was something deadly and foreboding about him as he stood here, and + Peter growled low in his throat. Recognition flashed upon him in an + instant. It was the man of the snow-dune, away up on the Barren, the man + whom he had mistrusted from the beginning, and from whom they had fled + into the face of the Big Storm months ago. His mind worked swiftly, even + as swiftly as Breault's in its way, and without any process of reasoning + he sensed menace and enmity in this man's appearance, and associated with + it the mysterious flight of Jolly Roger and Nada. + </p> + <p> + Breault had nodded, without speaking. Then his eyes rested on Peter, and + his face broke into a twisted sort of smile. It was not altogether + unpleasant, yet was there something about it which made one shiver. It + spoke the character of the man, pitiless, determined, omniscient almost, + as if the spirit of a grim and unrelenting fate walked with him. + </p> + <p> + Again he nodded, and held out a hand. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” he called. “Come here, Peter!” + </p> + <p> + Peter flattened his ears a fraction of an inch, but did not move. Even + that fraction of an inch caught Breault's keen eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Still a one-man dog,” he observed, stepping well inside the cabin, and + facing Father John. “Where is McKay, Father?” + </p> + <p> + He had not closed the door, and Peter saw his chance. The Leaf Bud saw him + pass like a shot out into the night, but as he went she made no effort to + call him back, for her ears were wide open as Breault repeated his + question, + </p> + <p> + “Where is McKay, Father?” + </p> + <p> + Peter heard the man-hunter's voice from the darkness outside. For barely + an instant he paused, picking up the fresh scent of Nada and Jolly Roger. + It was easy to follow—straight to the pool, and from the pool twenty + paces down-stream, where a little finger of sand and pebbles had been + formed by the eddies. In this bar was fresh imprint of the canoe, and here + the footprints ended. + </p> + <p> + Peter whimpered, peering into the tunnel of darkness between forest trees, + where the water rippled and gurgled softly on its way into a deeper and + more tangled wilderness. He waded belly-deep into the current, half + determined to swim; and then he waited, listening intently, but could hear + no sound of voice or paddle stroke. + </p> + <p> + Yet he knew Jolly Roger and Nada could not be far away. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the edge of the pool, and began sniffing his way + down-stream, pausing every two or three minutes to listen. Now and then he + caught the presence of those he sought, in the air, but those intervals in + which he stopped to catch sound of voice or paddle lost him time, so the + canoe was traveling faster than Peter. + </p> + <p> + Half way between himself and the bow of that canoe McKay could dimly make + out Nada's pale face in the star glow that filtered like a mist through + the tops of the close-hanging trees. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely above his breath he laughed in joyous confidence. + </p> + <p> + “At last my dream is coming true, Nada,” he whispered. “You are mine. And + we are going into another world. And no one will ever find us there—no + one but Father John, when we send him word. You are not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled a little in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not afraid. But it is dark—so dark—” + </p> + <p> + “The moon will be with us again in a few nights—your moon, with the + Old Man smiling down on us. I know how the Man in the Moon must feel when + he's on the other side of the world, and can't see you, Nada.” + </p> + <p> + Her silence made him lean toward her, striving to get a better view of her + face where the starlight broke through an opening in the tree-tops. + </p> + <p> + And in that moment he heard a little breath that was almost a sob. + </p> + <p> + “It's Peter,” she said, before he could speak. “Oh, Roger, why didn't we + bring Peter?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly—we should have,” he replied, skipping a stroke with his + paddle. “But I think we have done the best thing for Peter. He is a + wilderness dog, and has never known anything different. Over there, where + we are going—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. And some day, Father John will bring him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He has promised that. Peter will come to us when Father John comes.” + </p> + <p> + She had turned, looking into the pit-gloom ahead of them, so dark that the + canoe seemed about to drive against a wall. Under its bow the water + gurgled like oil. + </p> + <p> + “We are entering the big cedar swamp,” he explained. “It is like Blind + Man's Buff, isn't it? Can you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Not beyond the bow of the canoe, Roger.” + </p> + <p> + “Work back to me,” he said, “very carefully.” + </p> + <p> + She came, obediently. + </p> + <p> + “Now turn slowly, so that you face the bow, and lean back with your head + against my knees.” + </p> + <p> + This also, she did. + </p> + <p> + “This is much nicer,” she whispered, nestling her head comfortably against + him. “So much nicer.” + </p> + <p> + By leaning over until his back nearly cracked he was able to find her lips + in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of the brush that overhangs the stream,” he explained when + he had straightened himself. “Sitting up as you were it might have caused + you hurt.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little silence between them, in which his paddle caught again + its slow and steady rhythm. Then, + </p> + <p> + “Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger—and of the hurt it might + cause me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, only of that,” and he chuckled softly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I don't think it nice here at all,” she complained. “I shall sit up + straight so the brush may put my eyes out!” + </p> + <p> + But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to interrupt + his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant with her hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's there,” she purled, as if utterly comforted. “I wanted to be sure—it + is so dark!” + </p> + <p> + With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic tunnel ahead, + they were happy. Staring straight before him, though utterly unable to + see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and in every breath he drew + the exquisite thrill of a miracle. And the same thrill swept into him and + through him from the softly breathing body of Nada. Light or darkness made + no difference now. Together, inseparable from this time forth, they had + started on the one great adventure of their lives, and for them fear had + ceased to exist. The night sheltered them. Its very blackness held in its + embrace a warmth of welcome and of unending hope. Twice in the next half + hour he put his hand to Nada's face, and each time she pressed her lips + against it, sweet with that confidence which so completely possessed her + soul. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly they moved through the swamp, for because of the gloom his + paddle-strokes were exceedingly short, and he was feeling his way. + Frequently he ran into brush, or struck the boggy shore, and occasionally + Nada would hold lighted matches while he extricated the canoe from + tree-tops and driftwood that impeded the way. He loved the brief glimpses + he caught of her face in the match-glow, and twice he deliberately wasted + the tiny flares that he might hold the vision of her a little longer. + </p> + <p> + At last he began to feel the pulse of a current against his paddle, and + soon after that the star-mist began filtering through the thinning + tree-tops again, so that he knew they were almost through the swamp. + Another half-hour and they were free of it, with a clear sky overhead and + the cheering song of running water on both sides of them. + </p> + <p> + Nada sat up, and it was now so light that he could see the soft shimmer of + her hair in the starlight. He also saw a pretty little grimace in her + face, even as she smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't move,” she exclaimed. “UGH! my feet are asleep—” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go ashore and stretch ourselves,” said McKay, who had looked at his + watch in the light of the last match. “We've two hours the start of + Breault, and there is no other canoe.” + </p> + <p> + He began watching the shore closely, and it was not long before he made + out the white smoothness of a sandbar on their right. Here they landed and + for half an hour rested their cramped limbs. + </p> + <p> + Then they went on, and in his heart McKay blessed the deep swamp that lay + between them and Breault. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think he can make it without a canoe, even if he guesses we went + this way,” he explained to Nada. “And that means—we are safe.” + </p> + <p> + There was a cheery ring in his voice which would have changed to the + deadness of cold iron could he have looked back into that sluggish pit of + the Burntwood through which they had come, or could he have seen into the + heart of the still blacker swamp. + </p> + <p> + For through the swamp, feeling his way in the black abysses and amid the + monster-ghosts of darkness, came Peter. + </p> + <p> + And down the Burntwood, between the boggy mucklips of the swamp, a man + followed with slow but deadly surety, guiding with a long pole two light + cedar timbers which he had lashed together with wire, and which bore him + safely and in triumph where the canoe had gone before him. + </p> + <p> + This man was Breault, the man-hunter. + </p> + <p> + “The swamp will hold him!” McKay was saying again, exultantly. “Even if he + guesses our way, the swamp will hold him back, Nada.” + </p> + <p> + “But he won't know the way we have come,” cried Nada, the faith in her + voice answering his own. “Father John will guide him in another + direction.” + </p> + <p> + Back in the pit-gloom, with a grim smile now and then relaxing the + tight-set compression of his thin lips, and with eyes that stared like a + night-owl's into the gloom ahead of him, Breault poled steadily on. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Dripping from the bog-holes and lathered with mud, it was the mystery of + Breault's noiseless presence somewhere near him in the still night that + drew Peter continually deeper into the swamp. + </p> + <p> + Half a dozen times he caught the scent of him in a quiet air that seemed + only now and then to rise up in his face softly, as if stirred by + butterflies' wings. Always it came from ahead, and Peter's mind worked + swiftly to the decision that where Breault was there also would be Nada + and Jolly Roger. Yet he caught the scent of neither of these two, and that + puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + Many times he found himself at the edge of the black lip of water, but + never quite at the right time to see a shadow in its darkness, or hear the + sound of Breault's pole. + </p> + <p> + But in the swamp, as he went on, he saw nothing but shadow, and heard + weird and nameless sounds which made his blood creep, even though his + courage was now full-grown within him. + </p> + <p> + He was not frightened at the ugly sputter of the owls, as in the days of + old. Their throaty menace and snapping beaks did not stop him nor turn him + aside. The slashing scrape of claws in the bark of trees and the + occasional crackling of brush were matters of intimate knowledge, and he + gave but little attention to them in his eagerness to reach those who had + gone ahead of him. What troubled him, and filled his eyes with sudden red + glares, were the oily gurgles of the pitfalls which tried to suck him + down; the laughing madness of muck that held him as if living things were + in it, and which spluttered and coughed when he freed himself. + </p> + <p> + Half blinded at times, so that even the black shadows were blotted out, he + went on. And at last, coming again to the edge of the stream, he heard a + new kind of sound—the slow, steady dipping of Breault's pole. + </p> + <p> + He hurried on, finding harder ground under his feet, and came noiselessly + abreast of the man on his raft of cedar timbers. He could almost hear his + breathing. And very faintly he could see in the vast gloom a shadow—a + shadow that moved slowly against the background of a still deeper shadow + beyond. + </p> + <p> + But there was no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and whatever desire had + risen in him to make himself known was smothered by caution and suspicion. + After this he did not go ahead of Breault, but kept behind him or abreast + of him, within sound of the dipping pole. And every minute his heart + thumped expectantly, and he sniffed the new air for signs of those he most + desired to find. + </p> + <p> + Dawn was breaking in the sky when they came out of the swamp, and the + first flush of the sun was lighting up the east when Breault headed his + improvised craft for the sandbar upon which Nada and McKay had rested many + hours before. + </p> + <p> + Breault was tired, but his eyes lighted up when he saw the footprints in + the sand, and he chuckled—almost good humoredly. As a matter of fact + he was in a good humor. But one would not have reckoned it as such in + Breault. A hard man, the forests called him; a man with the hunting + instincts of the fox and the wolf and the merciless persistency of the + weazel—a man who lived his code to the last letter of the law, + without pity and without favoritism. At least so he was judged, and his + hard, narrow eyes, his thin lips and his cynically lined face seldom + betrayed the better thoughts within him, if he possessed any at all. In + the Service he was regarded as a humanly perfect mechanism, a bit of + machinery that never failed, the dreaded Nemesis to be set on the trail of + a wrong-doer when all others had failed. + </p> + <p> + But this morning, with every bone and muscle in him aching from his long + night of tedious exertion, the chuckle grew into a laugh as he looked upon + the telltale signs in the sand. + </p> + <p> + He stretched himself and his tired bones cracked. + </p> + <p> + Breault did not think aloud. But he was saying to himself. + </p> + <p> + “There, against that rock, Jolly Roger McKay sat There is the imprint of + only one person sitting. The girl was in his arms. Here are little holes + where her outstretched heels rested in the sand. She is wearing shoes and + not moccasins.” + </p> + <p> + He grinned as he drew his service pack from the two-log cedar raft. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of time now,” he continued to think. “They are mine this time—sure. + They believe they have fooled me, and they haven't. That's fatal. Always.” + </p> + <p> + Not infrequently, when entirely alone, Breault let a little part of + himself loose, as if freeing a prisoner from bondage for a short time. For + instance, he whistled. It was not an unpleasant whistle, but rather oddly + reminiscent of tender things he remembered away back somewhere; and as he + fried his bacon and steamed a handful of desiccated potatoes he hummed a + song, also rather pleasant to ears that were as closely attentive as + Peter's. + </p> + <p> + For Peter had crept up through a tangle of ground-scrub and lay not twenty + paces away, smelling of the bacon hungrily, and watching intently from his + concealment. + </p> + <p> + Peter knew the fox and the wolf, but he did not know Breault, and he did + not guess why the man's whistling grew a little louder, nor why his + humming voice grew stronger. But after a time, with his back and not his + face toward Peter, Breault called in the most natural and matter-of-fact + voice in the world, + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Peter. Breakfast is ready!” + </p> + <p> + Peter's jaws dropped in amazement. And as Breault turned toward him, his + thin face a-grin, and continued to invite him in a most companionable way, + he forgot his concealment entirely and stood up straight, ready either to + fight or fly. + </p> + <p> + Breault tossed him a dripping slice of bacon which he held in his hand. It + fell within a foot of Peter's nose, and Peter was ravenously hungry. The + delicious odor of it demoralized his senses and his caution. For a few + seconds he resisted, then thrust himself out toward it an inch at a time, + made a sudden grab, and swallowed it at one gulp. + </p> + <p> + Breault laughed outright, and with the first of the sun striking into his + face he did not look like an enemy to Peter. + </p> + <p> + A second slice of bacon followed the first, and then a third—until + Breault was frying another mess over the fire. + </p> + <p> + “That's partial payment for what you did up on the Barren,” he was saying + inside himself. “If it hadn't been for you—” + </p> + <p> + He didn't even imagine the rest. Nor after that did he pay the slightest + attention to Peter. For Breault knew dogs possibly even better than he + knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give Peter to understand + that he was interested in him at all. He washed his dishes, whistling and + humming, reloaded his pack on the raft, and once more began poling his way + downstream. + </p> + <p> + Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but felt a + further sense of abandonment. After all, this man was not his enemy, and + he was leaving him as his master and mistress had left him. He whined. And + Breault was not out of sight when he trotted down to the sandbar, and + quickly found the scent of Nada and McKay. Purposely Breault had left a + lump of desiccated potato as big as his fist, and this Peter ate as + ravenously as he had eaten the bacon. Then, just as Breault knew he would + do, he began following the raft. + </p> + <p> + Breault did not hurry, and he did not rest. There was something almost + mechanically certain in his slow but steady progress, though he knew it + was possible for the canoe to outdistance him three to one. He was missing + nothing along the shore. Three times during the forenoon he saw where the + canoe had landed, and he chuckled each time, thinking of the old story of + the tortoise and the hare. He stopped for not more than two or three + minutes at each of these places, and was then on his way again. + </p> + <p> + Peter was fascinated by the unexcited persistency of the man's movement. + He followed it, watched it, and became more and more interested in the + unvarying monotony of it. There were the same up-and-down strokes of the + long pole, the slight swaying of the upstanding body, the same eddy behind + the cedar logs—and occasionally wisps of smoke floating behind when + the pursuer smoked his pipe. Not once did Peter see Breault turn his head + to look behind him. Yet Breault was seeing everything. Five times that + morning he saw Peter, but not once did he make a sign or call to him. + </p> + <p> + He drove his raft ashore at twelve o'clock to prepare his dinner, and + after he had built a fire, and his cooking things were scattered about, he + straightened himself up and called in that same matter-of-fact way, as if + expecting an immediate response, + </p> + <p> + “Here, Peter!—Peter!—Come in, Boy!” + </p> + <p> + And Peter came. Fighting against the last instinct that held him back he + first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at Breault. Breault + paid no attention to him for a few moments, but sliced his bacon. When the + perfume of the cooking meat reached Peter's nose he edged himself a little + nearer, and with a whimpering sigh flattened himself on his belly. + </p> + <p> + Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, + </p> + <p> + “Hungry again, Peter?” he inquired casually. + </p> + <p> + He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over from + breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the strips to + Peter. As he did this he was thinking to himself, + </p> + <p> + “Why am I doing this? I don't want the dog. He will be a nuisance. He will + eat my grub. But it's fair. I'm paying a debt. He helped to save me up on + the Barren.” + </p> + <p> + Thus did Breault, the man without mercy, the Nemesis, briefly analyze the + matter. And he cooked five pieces of bacon for Peter. + </p> + <p> + During the rest of that day Peter made no effort to keep himself in + concealment as he followed Breault and his raft. This afternoon Breault + shot a fawn, and when he made camp that night both he and Peter feasted on + fresh meat. This broke down the last of Peter's suspicion, and Breault + laid a hand on his head. He did not particularly like the feel of the + hand, but he tolerated it, and Breault grunted aloud, with a note of + commendation in his hard voice. + </p> + <p> + “A one-man dog—never anything else.” + </p> + <p> + Half a dozen times during the day Peter had found the scent of Nada and + Roger where they had come ashore, and from this night on he associated + Breault as a necessary agent in his search for them. And with Breault he + went, instinctively guessing the truth. + </p> + <p> + The next day they found where Nada and McKay had abandoned the canoe, and + had struck south through the wilderness. This pleased Breault, who was + tired of his poling. This third night there was a new moon, and something + about it stirred in Peter an impulse to run ahead and overtake those he + was seeking. But a still strong instinct held him to Breault. + </p> + <p> + Tonight Breault slept like a dead man on his cedar boughs. He was up and + had a fire built an hour before dawn, and with the first gray streaking of + day was on the trail again. He made no further effort to follow signs of + the pursued, for that was a hopeless task. But he knew how McKay was + heading, and he traveled swiftly, figuring to cover twice the distance + that Nada might travel in the same given time. It was three o'clock in the + afternoon when he came to a great ridge, and on its highest pinnacle he + stopped. + </p> + <p> + Peter had grown restless again, and a little more suspicious of Breault. + He was not afraid of him, but all that day he had found no scent of Nada + or Jolly Roger, and slowly the conviction was impinging itself upon him + that he should seek for himself in the wilderness. + </p> + <p> + Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll keep my eye on the dog,” he thought. “He has a nose, and an uncanny + sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. I believe McKay + and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they have traveled more slowly + than I thought, and haven't passed this ridge; or it may be they are down + there, in the plain. If so I should catch sign of smoke or fire—in + time.” + </p> + <p> + For an hour he kept watch over the plain through his binoculars, seeking + for a wisp of smoke that might rise at any time over the treetops. He did + not lose sight of Peter, questing out in widening circles below him. And + then, quite unexpectedly, something happened. In the edge of a tiny meadow + an eighth of a mile away Peter was acting strangely. He was nosing the + ground, gulping the wind, twisting eagerly back and forth. Then he set + out, steadily and with unmistakable decision, south and west. + </p> + <p> + In a flash Breault was on his feet, had caught up his pack, and was + running for the meadow. And there he found something in the velvety + softness of the earth which brought a grim smile to his thin lips as he, + too, set out south and west. + </p> + <p> + The scent he had found, hours old, drew Peter on until in the edge of the + dusk of evening it brought him to a foot-worn trail leading to the + Hudson's Bay Company post many miles south. In this path, beaten by the + feet of generations of forest dwellers, the hard heels of McKay's boots + had made their imprint, and after this the scent was clearer under Peter's + nose. But with forest-bred caution he still traveled slowly, though his + blood was burning like a pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost as swiftly + followed Breault behind him. + </p> + <p> + Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, lighting + his way between the two walls of the forest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran under deep + forests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch of the Nelson + River flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to meet the promise of + day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, stirring sleepily to the + pulse of an awakening earth. Through it came the first low twitter of + birdsong, a sound that seemed to swell and grow until it filled the world. + Yet was it still a sound of sleep, of half wakefulness, and the mist was + thinning away when, a ruffled little breast sent out its full throat-song + from the tip of a silver birch that overhung the stream. + </p> + <p> + The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was no stir + of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there had been much to + wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. But the girl was no longer + there to sing back at him. The cedar and balsam shelter dripped with + morning dew, the place where fire had been was black and dead, and + ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song in triumph. + </p> + <p> + Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him. She + lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsong + seemed to come to her from a great distance away. She smiled, and her lips + trembled, as if even in sleep she—was about to answer it. And then + the song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she sank back + into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a long time, and + out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag her. + </p> + <p> + There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and she + opened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of Jolly + Roger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he was not looking + at her. It must be late, she thought, for the light was strong in his + face, warm with the first golden flow of the sun. She smiled, and sat up, + and shook her soft curls with a happy little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Roger—” + </p> + <p> + And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she saw + Peter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew her breath + short and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through her heart. + </p> + <p> + Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in from the + timber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying them with an odd + smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this man was Breault. + </p> + <p> + There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat there, in + spite of the fact that for a few moments he neither spoke nor moved. His + eyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, and his lips were like the + blades of two knives set together. Yet he was smiling, or half smiling, + not in a comforting or humorous way, but with exultation and triumph. From + looking at him one would never have guessed that Breault loved his joke. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And—good morning, Mrs. Jolly Roger + McKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is duty. I am + Breault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police.” + </p> + <p> + McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin face + widened. + </p> + <p> + “I know, it's hard,” he said. “But you've got Peter to thank for it. Peter + led me to you.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with his + automatic. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind stepping out, McKay?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, and Nada + rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “No need of those things, Breault,” he said. “I'll go peaceably.” + </p> + <p> + “Still—it's safer,” argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. + “Hold out one hand, please—” + </p> + <p> + The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Breault—not Terence Cassidy,” he chuckled. “Never take a + chance, you know. Never!” + </p> + <p> + Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet snapped + over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Got you both now, haven't I?” he gloated. “Can't get away, can you?” He + put his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. “How do you like married life, + Mrs. Jolly Roger?” + </p> + <p> + McKay's face was whiter than Nada's. + </p> + <p> + “You coward!” he spoke in a low, quiet voice. “You low-down miserable + coward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean you are going to + keep my wife ironed like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said Breault. “I'm going to make you pay for some of the trouble + I've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, you know. And a + woman, too. And probably you've lied to her like the very devil.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't!” protested Nada fiercely. “You're a—a—” + </p> + <p> + “Say it,” nodded Breault good humoredly. “By all means say it, Mrs. Jolly + Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you,” and while he waited he + loaded his pipe and lighted it. + </p> + <p> + “You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with good friends + like you,” he apologized cynically. “In other words you're a couple of + hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of evidence about you. He says + that you, McKay, should be hung the moment we catch you. He warned me not + to take a chance—that you'd slit my throat in the dark without a + prick of conscience. And I'm a valuable man in the Service. It can't + afford to lose me.” + </p> + <p> + McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things,” Breault + went on. “And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we can have + breakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He saved us up on + the Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about that?” + </p> + <p> + He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of birchbark + which he had already placed under dry cedar wood which McKay had gathered + the preceding evening. + </p> + <p> + “That's where MY trouble began—up there on the Barren, Mrs. Jolly + Roger,” he continued, ignoring McKay. “You see the three of us, + Superintendent Tavish, and Porter—who is now his son-in-law—and + I had a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever in the + history of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of a husband of + yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's only a dog. But McKay + is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful opportunity of dying in an + unusual way by hunting us up and dragging us into his shelter. A shabby + trick, don't you think? And inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish is about the + biggest man in the Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, and Miss Tavish + was saved along with us—why, they reckoned something ought to be + done about it.” + </p> + <p> + Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel to the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “And so—” + </p> + <p> + He rose and stood before them again. + </p> + <p> + “And so—they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running you + down with a pardon, McKay—a pardon forgiving you for all your sins, + forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!” + </p> + <p> + He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, and held + it out now—not to McKay—but to Nada. + </p> + <p> + Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile still on his + lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold sort of laughter, it was + as if Breault tortured them with a last horrible joke. Then, suddenly, + Nada seized the envelope and tore it open, while McKay stared at Breault, + believing, and yet not daring to speak. + </p> + <p> + It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, that + told him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her hand she + smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came up grinning + behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in the handcuffs. + </p> + <p> + “I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you,” he + said, attending to the fire again. “For instance, that red-headed + good-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building a four-room + bungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will be finished by the + time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow Bird, and a redskin who calls + himself Slim Buck, sent word that you will always be welcome in their + hunting grounds. And a pretty little thing named Sun Cloud sent as many + kisses as there are leaves on the trees—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, glorious eyes + of the girl upon him. + </p> + <p> + “But the funniest thing of all is the baby,” he went on, preparing to + slice bacon. “They're going to have one pretty soon—Cassidy's wife, + I mean. They've given it a name already. If it's a boy it's Roger—if + it's a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, + aren't they? A couple of young fools—” + </p> + <p> + Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life of + Frangois Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in a pair of + arms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and pitiless mouth a + pair of soft red lips pressed for a single thrilling instant. “Well, I'll + be damned,” he gasped, dropping his bacon and staggering to his feet like + a man who had been shot. “I'll be—CUSSED!” + </p> + <p> + And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young spruce at + the edge of the timber, without saying another word or once looking behind + him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly Roger and Peter waited, but + Frangois Breault did not return. For a strange and unaccountable man was + he, a hard and pitiless man and a deadly hunter who knew no fear. Yet the + wilderness swallowed him, a coward at last—running away from the two + red lips that had kissed him. + </p> + <p> + So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of mercy; and + at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew that something glad + had happened, and offered up its gratitude in a sudden burst of song. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + +***** This file should be named 4743-h.htm or 4743-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4743/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks, David Widger, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Country Beyond + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4743] +Posting Date: December 8, 2009 [EBook #4743] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks, and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + +A ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS + +By James Oliver Curwood + +Author Of The Valley Of Silent Men, The Flaming Forest, Etc. + + +A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty +battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a +million people. Thus have trivial things played their potent parts in +the history of human lives; yet these things Peter did not know. + + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Not far from the rugged and storm-whipped north shore of Lake Superior, +and south of the Kaministiqua, yet not as far south as the Rainy +River waterway, there lay a paradise lost in the heart of a wilderness +world--and in that paradise "a little corner of hell." + +That was what the girl had called it once upon a time, when sobbing out +the shame and the agony of it to herself. That was before Peter had come +to leaven the drab of her life. But the hell was still there. + +One would not have guessed its existence, standing at the bald top of +Cragg's Ridge this wonderful thirtieth day of May. In the whiteness of +winter one could look off over a hundred square miles of freezing forest +and swamp and river country, with the gleam of ice-covered lakes here +and there, fringed by their black spruce and cedar and balsam--a country +of storm, of deep snows, and men and women whose blood ran red with the +thrill that the hardship and the never-ending adventure of the wild. + +But this was spring. And such a spring as had not come to the Canadian +north country in many years. Until three days ago there had been a +deluge of warm rains, and since then the sun had inundated the land with +the golden warmth of summer. The last chill was gone from the air, and +the last bit of frozen earth and muck from the deepest and blackest +swamps, North, south, east and west the wilderness world was a glory of +bursting life, of springtime mellowing into summer. Ridge upon ridge of +yellows and greens and blacks swept away into the unknown distances like +the billows of a vast sea; and between them lay the valleys and swamps, +the lakes and waterways, glad with the rippling song of running waters, +the sweet scents of early flowering time, and the joyous voice of all +mating creatures. + +Just under Cragg's Ridge lay the paradise, a meadow-like sweep of plain +that reached down to the edge of Clearwater Lake, with clumps of poplars +and white birch and darker tapestries of spruce and balsams dotting it +like islets in a sea of verdant green. The flowers were two weeks ahead +of their time and the sweet perfumes of late June, instead of May, +rose up out of the plain, and already there was nesting in the velvety +splashes of timber. + +In the edge of a clump of this timber, flat on his belly, lay Peter. The +love of adventure was in him, and today he had sallied forth on his most +desperate enterprise. For the first time he had gone alone to the edge +of Clearwater Lake, half a mile away; boldly he had trotted up and down +the white strip of beach where the girl's footprints still remained in +the sand, and defiantly he had yipped at the shimmering vastness of the +water, and at the white gulls circling near him in quest of dead fish +flung ashore. Peter was three months old. Yesterday he had been a timid +pup, shrinking from the bigness and strangeness of everything about him; +but today he had braved the lake trail on his own nerve, and nothing had +dared to come near him in spite of his yipping, so that a great courage +and a great desire were born in him. + +Therefore, in returning, he had paused in the edge of a great clump of +balsams and spruce, and lay flat on his belly, his sharp little eyes +leveled yearningly at the black mystery of its deeper shadows. The bit +of forest filled a cup-like depression in the plain, and was possibly +half a rifle-shot distance from end to end--but to Peter it was as vast +as life itself. And something urged him to go in. + +And as he lay there, desire and indecision struggling for mastery within +him, no power could have told Peter that destinies greater than his own +were working through the soul of the dog that was in him, and that on +his decision to go in or not to go in--on the triumph of courage or +cowardice--there rested the fates of lives greater than his own, of men, +and women, and of little children still unborn. A glass of wine once +lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a mighty battle, and a woman's +smile once upon a time destroyed the homes of a million people. Thus +have trivial things played their potent parts in the history of human +lives, yet these things Peter did not know--nor that his greatest hour +had come. + +At last he rose from his squatting posture, and stood upon his feet. +He was not a beautiful pup, this Peter Pied-Bot--or Peter Club-foot, as +Jolly Roger McKay--who lived over in the big cedar swamp--had named +him when he gave Peter to the girl. He was, in a way, an accident and a +homely one at that. His father was a blue-blooded fighting Airedale who +had broken from his kennel long enough to commit a MESALLIANCE with +a huge big footed and peace-loving Mackenzie hound--and Peter was the +result. He wore the fiercely bristling whiskers of his Airedale father +at the age of three months; his ears were flappy and big, his tail was +knotted, and his legs were ungainly and loose, with huge feet at the end +of them--so big and heavy that he stumbled frequently, and fell on his +nose. One pitied him at first--and then loved him. For Peter, in spite +of his homeliness, had the two best bloods of all dog creation in his +veins. Yet in a way it was like mixing nitro-glycerin with olive oil, or +dynamite and saltpeter with milk and honey. + +Peter's heart was thumping rapidly as he took a step toward the deeper +shadows. He swallowed hard, as if to clear a knot out of his scrawny +throat. But he had made up his mind. Something was compelling him, +and he would go in. Slowly the gloom engulfed him, and once again the +whimsical spirit of fatalism had chosen a trivial thing to work out its +ends in the romance and tragedy of human lives. + +Grim shadows began to surround Peter, and his ears shot up, and a +scraggly brush stood out along his spine. But he did not bark, as he +had barked along the shore of the lake, and in the green opens. Twice +he looked back to the shimmer of sunshine that was growing more and more +indistinct. As long as he could see this, and knew that his retreat +was open, there still remained a bit of that courage which was swiftly +ebbing in the thickening darkness. But the third time he looked back the +light of the sun was utterly gone! For an instant the knot rose up in +his throat and choked him, and his eyes popped, and grew like little +balls of fire in his intense desire to see through the gloom. Even the +girl, who was afraid of only one thing in the world, would have paused +where Peter stood, with a little quickening of her heart. For all the +light of the day, it seemed to Peter, had suddenly died out. Over his +head the spruce and cedar and balsam tops grew so thick they were like +a canopy of night. Through them the snow never came in winter, and under +them the light of a blazing sun was only a ghostly twilight. + +And now, as he stood there, his whole soul burning with a desire to see +his way out, Peter began to hear strange sounds. Strangest of all, and +most fearsome, was a hissing that came and went, sometimes very near to +him, and always accompanied by a grating noise that curdled his blood. +Twice after that he saw the shadow of the great owl as it swooped over +him, and he flattened himself down, the knot in his throat growing +bigger and more choking. And then he heard the soft and uncanny movement +of huge feathered bodies in the thick shroud of boughs overhead, and +slowly and cautiously he wormed himself around, determined to get back +to sunshine and day as quickly as he could. It was not until he had +made this movement that the real chill of horror gripped at his heart. +Straight behind him, directly in the path he had traveled, he saw two +little green balls of flame! + +It was instinct, and not reason or experience, which told Peter there +was menace and peril in these two tiny spots blazing in the gloom. +He did not know that his own eyes, popping half out of his head, were +equally terrifying in that pit of silence, nor that from him emanated a +still more terrifying thing--the scent of dog. He trembled on his wobbly +legs as the green eyes stared at him, and his back seemed to break +in the middle, so that he sank helplessly down upon the soft spruce +needles, waiting for his doom. In another flash the twin balls of green +fire were gone. In a moment they appeared again, a little farther away. +Then a second time they were gone, and a third time they flashed back +at him--so distant they appeared like needle-points in the darkness. +Something stupendous rose up in Peter. It was the soul of his Airedale +father, telling him the other thing was running away! And in the joy of +triumph Peter let out a yelp. In that night-infested place, alive +with hiding things, the yelp set loose weird rustlings in the tangled +treetops, strange murmurings of chortling voices, and the nasty snapping +of beaks that held in them the power to rend Peter's skinny body into +a hundred bits. From deeper in the thicket came the sudden crash of +a heavy body, and with it the chuckling notes of a porcupine, and a +HOO-HOO-HOO-EE of startled inquiry that at first Peter took for a human +voice. And again he lay shivering close to the foot-deep carpet of +needles under him, while his heart thumped against his ribs, and his +whiskers stood out in mortal fear. There followed a weird and appalling +silence, and in that stillness Peter quested vainly for the sunlight he +had lost. And then, indistinctly, but bringing with it a new thrill, +he heard another sound. It was a soft and distant rippling of running +water. He knew that sound. It was friendly. He had played among the +rocks and pebbles and sand where it was made. His courage came back, and +he rose up on his legs, and made his way toward it. Something inside +him told him to go quietly, but his feet were big and clumsy, and half a +dozen times in the next two minutes he stumbled on his nose. At last he +came to the stream, scarcely wider than a man might have reached across, +rippling and plashing its way through the naked roots of trees. And +ahead of him Peter saw light. He quickened his pace, until at the last +he was running when he came out into the edge of the meadowy plain, +with its sweetness of flowers and green grass and song of birds, and its +glory of blue sky and sun. + +If he had ever been afraid, Peter forgot it now. The choking went out of +his throat, his heart fell back in its place, and the fierce conviction +that he had vanquished everything in the world possessed him. He peered +back into the dark cavern of evergreen out of which the streamlet +gurgled, and then trotted straight away from it, growling back his +defiance as he ran. At a safe distance he stopped, and faced about. +Nothing was following him, and the importance of his achievements grew +upon him. He began to swell; his fore-legs he planted pugnaciously, he +hollowed his back, and began to bark with all the puppyish ferocity that +was in him. And though he continued to yelp, and pounded the earth +with his paws, and tore up the green grass with his sharp little +teeth, nothing dared to come out of the black forest in answer to his +challenge! + +His head was high and his ears cocked jauntily as he trotted up the +slope, and for the first time in his three months of existence he +yearned to give battle to something that was alive. He was a changed +Peter, no longer satisfied with the thought of gnawing sticks or stones +or mauling a rabbit skin. At the crest of the slope he stopped, and +yelped down, almost determined to go back to that black patch of forest +and chase out everything that was in it. Then he turned toward Cragg's +Ridge, and what he saw seemed slowly to shrink up the pugnaciousness +that was in him, and his stiffened tail drooped until the knotty end of +it touched the ground. + +Three or four hundred yards away, out of the heart of that cup-like +paradise which ran back through a break in the ridge, rose a spiral +of white smoke, and with the sight of that smoke Peter heard also the +chopping of axe. It made him shiver, and yet he made his way toward it. +He was not old enough--nor was it in the gentle blood of his Mackenzie +mother--to know the meaning of hate; but something was growing swiftly +in Peter's shrewd little head, and he sensed impending danger whenever +he heard the sound of the axe. For always there was associated with that +sound the cat-like, thin-faced man with the red bristle on his upper +lip, and the one eye that never opened but was always closed. And +Peter had come to fear this one eyed man more than he feared any of the +ghostly monsters hidden in the black pit of the forest he had braved +that day. + +But the owls, and the porcupine, and the fiery-eyed fox that had +run away from him, had put into Peter something which was not in him +yesterday, and he did not slink on his belly when he came to the edge +of the cup between the broken ridge, but stood up boldly on his crooked +legs and looked ahead of him. At the far edge of the cup, under the +western shoulder of the ridge, was a thick scattering of tall cedars and +green poplars and white birch, and in the shelter of these was a cabin +built of logs. A lovelier spot could not have been chosen for the home +of man. The hollow, from where Peter stood, was a velvety carpet of +green, thickly strewn with flowers and ferns, sweet with the scent +of violets and wild honey-suckle, and filled with the song of birds. +Through the middle of it purled a tiny creek which disappeared between +the ragged shoulders of rock, and close to this creek stood the cabin, +its log walls smothered under a luxuriant growth of wood-vine. But +Peter's quizzical little eyes were not measuring the beauty of the +place, nor were his ears listening to the singing of birds, or the +chattering of a red-squirrel on a stub a few yards away. He was looking +beyond the cabin, to a chalk-white mass of rock that rose like a giant +mushroom in the edge of the trees--and he was listening to the ringing +of the axe, and straining his ears to catch the sound of a voice. + +It was the voice he wanted most of all, and when this did not come he +choked back a whimper in his throat, and went down to the creek, and +waded through it, and came up cautiously behind the cabin, his eyes and +ears alert and his loosely jointed legs ready for flight at a sign of +danger. He wanted to set up his sharp yipping signal for the girl, but +the menace of the axe choked back his desire. At the very end of the +cabin, where the wood-vine grew thick and dense, Peter had burrowed +himself a hiding-place, and into this he skulked with the quickness of +a rat getting away from its enemies. From this protecting screen he +cautiously poked forth his whiskered face, to make what inventory he +could of his chances for supper and a safe home-coming. + +And as he looked forth his heart gave a sudden jump. + +It was the girl, and not the man who was using the axe today. At the +big wood-pile half a stone's throw away he saw the shimmer of her brown +curls in the sun, and a glimpse of her white face as it was turned for +an instant toward the cabin. In his gladness he would have leaped out, +but the curse of a voice he had learned to dread held him back. + +A man had come out of the cabin, and close behind the man, a woman. The +man was a long, lean, cadaverous-faced creature, and Peter knew that the +devil was in him as he stood there at the cabin door. His breath, if +one had stood close enough to smell it, was heavy with whiskey. Tobacco +juice stained the corners of his mouth, and his one eye gleamed with +an animal-like exultation as he nodded toward the girl with the shining +curls. + +"Mooney says he'll pay seven-fifty for her when he gets his tie-money +from the Government, an' he paid me fifty down," he said. "It'll help +pay for the brat's board these last ten years--an' mebby, when it comes +to a show-down, I can stick him for a thousand." + +The woman made no answer. She was, in a way, past answering with a mind +of her own. The man, as he stood there, was wicked and cruel, every line +in his ugly face and angular body a line of sin. The woman was bent, +broken, a wreck. In her face there was no sign of a living soul. Her +eyes were dull, her heart burned out, her hands gnarled with toil under +the slavedom of a beast. Yet even Peter, quiet as a mouse where he lay, +sensed the difference between them. He had seen the girl and this woman +sobbing in each other's arms. And often he had crawled to the woman's +feet, and occasionally her hand had touched him, and frequently she had +given him things to eat. But it was seldom he heard her voice when the +man was near. + +The man was biting off a chunk of black tobacco. Suddenly he asked, + +"How old is she, Liz?" + +And the woman answered in a strange and husky voice. + +"Seventeen the twelfth day of this month." + +The man spat. + +"Mooney ought to pay a thousand. We've had her better'n ten years--an' +Mooney's crazy as a loon to git her. He'll pay!" + +"Jed--" The woman's voice rose above its hoarseness. "Jed--it ain't +right!" + +The man laughed. He opened his mouth wide, until his yellow fangs +gleamed in the sun, and the girl with the axe paused for a moment in her +work, and flung back her head, staring at the two before the cabin door. + +"Right?" jeered the man. "Right? That's what you been preachin' me these +last ten years 'bout whiskey-runnin,' but it ain't made me stop sellin' +whiskey, has it? An' I guess it ain't a word that'll come between Mooney +and me--not if Mooney gits his thousand." Suddenly he turned upon her, +a hand half raised to strike. "An' if you whisper a word to her--if y' +double-cross me so much as the length of your little finger--I'll break +every bone in your body, so help me God! You understand? You won't say +anything to her?" + +The woman's uneven shoulders drooped lower. + +"I won't say ennything, Jed. I--promise." + +The man dropped his uplifted hand with a harsh grunt. + +"I'll kill y' if you do," he warned. + +The girl had dropped her axe, and was coming toward them. She was a +slim, bird-like creature, with a poise to her head and an up-tilt to her +chin which warned that the man had not yet beaten her to the level of +the woman. She was dressed in a faded calico, frayed at the bottom, +and with the sleeves bobbed off just above the elbows of her slim white +arms. Her stockings were mottled with patches and mends, and her shoes +were old, and worn out at the toes. + +But to Peter, worshipping her from his hiding place, she was the most +beautiful thing in the world. Jolly Roger had said the same thing, and +most men--and women, too--would have agreed that this slip of a girl +possessed a beauty which it would take a long time for unhappiness +and torture to crush entirely out of her. Her eyes were as blue as the +violets Peter had thrust his nose among that day. And her hair was a +glory, loosed by her exertion from its bondage of faded ribbon, and +falling about her shoulders and nearly to her waist in a mass of curling +brown tresses that at times had made even Jed Hawkins' one eye light of +with admiration. And yet, even in those times, he hated her, and more +than once his bony fingers had closed viciously in that mass of radiant +hair, but seldom could he wring a scream of pain from Nada. Even now, +when she could see the light of the devil in his one gleaming eye, it +was only her flesh--and not her soul--that was afraid. + +But the strain had begun to show its mark. In the blue of her eyes was +the look of one who was never free of haunting visions, her cheeks were +pallid, and a little too thin, and the vivid redness of her lips was not +of health and happiness, but a touch of the color which should have been +in her face, and which until now had refused to die. + +She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm. + +"I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her," she cried in +a fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming loathing and +hatred at him. "If you hit her once more--something is going to happen. +If you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand it. But--look at her! +You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled her--an' you oughta die!" + +The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him Peter +felt something he had never felt before. For the first time in his life +he had no desire to run away from the man. Something rose up from his +bony little chest, and grew in his throat, until it was a babyish snarl +so low that no human ears could hear it. And in his hiding-place his +needle-like fangs gleamed under snarling lips. + +But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his fingers in +the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if something was choking +him, and turned away with a toss of his arms. + +"You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?" he said, and +disappeared around the end of the cabin. + +The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but she was +trembling. + +"I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any more," she +comforted. "If he does, I'll end him. I will! I'll bring the police. +I'll show 'em the places where he hides his whiskey. I'll--I'll put him +in jail, if I die for it!" + +The woman's bony hands clutched at one of Nada's. + +"No, no, you mustn't do that," she pleaded. "He was good to me once, +a long time ago, Nada. It ain't Jed that's bad--it's the whiskey. You +mustn't tell on him, Nada--you mustn't!" + +"I've promised you I won't--if he don't hit you any more. He kin shake +me by the hair if he wants to. But if he hits you--" + +She drew a deep breath, and also passed around the end of the cabin. + +For a few moments Peter listened. Then he slipped back through the +tunnel he had made under the wood-vine, and saw Nada walking swiftly +toward the break in the ridge. He followed, so quietly that she was +through the break, and was picking her way among the tumbled masses +of rock along the farther foot of the ridge, before she discovered his +presence. With a glad cry she caught him up in her arms and hugged him +against her breast. + +"Peter, Peter, where have you been?" she demanded. "I thought something +had happened to you, and I've been huntin' for you, and so has Roger--I +mean Mister Jolly Roger." + +Peter was hugged tighter, and he hung limply until his mistress came +to a thick little clump of dwarf balsams hidden among the rocks. It +was their "secret place," and Peter had come to sense the fact that its +mystery was not to be disclosed. Here Nada had made her little bower, +and she sat down now upon a thick rug of balsam boughs, and held Peter +out in front of her, squatted on his haunches. A new light had come into +her eyes, and they were shining like stars. There was a flush in her +cheeks, her red lips were parted, and Peter, looking up--and being +just dog--could scarcely measure the beauty of her. But he knew that +something had happened, and he tried hard to understand. + +"Peter, he was here ag'in today--Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger," she +cried softly, the pink in her cheeks growing brighter. "And he told me I +was pretty!" + +She drew a deep breath, and looked out over the rocks to the valley and +the black forest beyond. And her fingers, under Peter's scrawny armpits, +tightened until he grunted. + +"And he asked me if he could touch my hair--mind you he asked me that, +Peter!--And when I said 'yes' he just put his hand on it, as if he was +afraid, and he said it was beautiful, and that I must take wonderful +care of it!" + +Peter saw a throbbing in her throat. + +"Peter--he said he didn't want to do anything wrong to me, that he'd cut +off his hand first. He said that! And then he said--if I didn't think it +was wrong--he'd like to kiss me--" + +She hugged Peter up close to her again. + +"And--I told him I guessed it wasn't wrong, because I liked him, and +nobody else had ever kissed me, and--Peter--he didn't kiss me! And when +he went away he looked so queer--so white-like--and somethin' inside me +has been singing ever since. I don't know what it is, Peter. But it's +there!" + +And then, after a moment. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I wish Mister Jolly Roger would take us away!" + +The thought drew a tightening to her lips, and the pucker of a frown +between her eyes, and she sat Peter down beside her and looked over +the valley to the black forest, in the heart of which was Jolly Roger's +cabin. + +"It's funny he don't want anybody to know he's there, ain't it--I +mean--isn't it, Peter?" she mused. "He's livin' in the old shack Indian +Tom died in last winter, and I've promised not to tell. He says it's a +great secret, and that only you, and I, and the Missioner over at Sucker +Creek know anything about it. I'd like to go over and clean up the shack +for him. I sure would." + +Peter, beginning to nose among the rocks, did not see the flash of fire +that came slowly into the blue of the girl's eyes. She was looking at +her ragged shoes, at the patched stockings, at the poverty of her faded +dress, and her fingers clenched in her lap. + +"I'd do it--I'd go away--somewhere--and never come back, if it wasn't +for her," she breathed. "She treats me like a witch most of the time, +but Jed Hawkins made her that way. I kin remember--" + +Suddenly she jumped up, and flung back her head defiantly, so that her +hair streamed out in a sun-filled cloud in a gust of wind that came up +the valley. + +"Some day, I'll kill 'im," she cried to the black forest across the +plain. "Some day--I will!" + + + +CHAPTER II + + +She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering in her +brain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her unhappiness, +so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of it. But today the +betrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in a hard little voice +she had told Jolly Roger--the stranger who had come into the black +forest--how her mother and father had died of the same plague more than +ten years ago, and how Jed Hawkins and his woman had promised to keep +her for three silver fox skins which her father had caught before the +sickness came. That much the woman had confided in her, for she was only +six when it happened. And she had not dared to look at Jolly Roger when +she told him of what had passed since then, so she saw little of the +hardening in his face as he listened. But he had blown his nose--hard. +It was a way with Jolly Roger, and she had not known him long enough +to understand what it meant. And a little later he had asked her if +he might touch her hair--and his big hand had lain for a moment on her +head, as gently as a woman's. + +Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that hand. +It had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as Peter's +vanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the same for him. +Peter was no longer afraid, and the girl was no longer afraid, and +together they went along the slope of the ridge, until they came to +a dried-up coulee which was choked with a wild upheaval of rock. Here +Peter suddenly stopped, with his nose to the ground, and then his legs +stiffened, and for the first time the girl heard the babyish growl in +his throat. For a moment she stood very still, and listened, and faintly +there came to her a sound, as if someone was scraping rock against +rock. The girl drew in a quick breath; she stood straighter, and +Peter--looking up--saw her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And then +she bent down, and picked up a jagged stick. + +"We'll go up, Peter," she whispered. "It's one of his hiding-places!" + +There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no longer +afraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating little heart +as he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl on tip-toe, and +Peter making no sound with his soft footpads, so that Jed Hawkins was +still on his knees, with his back toward them, when they came out into a +square of pebbles and sand between two giant masses of rock. Yesterday, +or the day before, both Peter and Nada would have slunk back, for +Jed was at his devil's work, and only evil could come to the one who +discovered him at it. He had scooped out a pile of sand from under the +edge of the biggest rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy leather +flasks from a jug which he had pulled from the hole. And then he paused +to drink. They could hear the liquor gurgling down his throat. + +Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot the +man whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he saw who +it was, and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, his two big +fists clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her. + +"You damned--spy!" he cried chokingly. "If you was a man--I'd kill you!" + +The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spots +flamed in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her eyes. +And there was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, as she said +tauntingly. + +"If I was a man, Jed Hawkins--you'd run!" + +He took a step toward her. + +"You'd run," she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a tighter +grip of her stick. "I ain't ever seen you hit anything but a woman, an' +a girl, or some poor animal that didn't dare bite back. You're a coward, +Jed Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey-sellin' coward--and you +oughta die!" + +Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this moment +between the two big rocks. It held something in the air, like the +impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the world. He forgot +himself, and looked up at his mistress, a wonderful, slim little thing +standing there at last unafraid before the future--and in his dog heart +and soul a part of the truth came to him, and he planted his big feet +squarely in front of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had never +snarled before in his life. + +And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he had +humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without suspicion +until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After that--after he +had delivered her to the other's shack--it would all be up to Mooney, he +figured. And this was what had come of his peace-loving efforts! She was +taking advantage of him, defying him, spying upon him--the brat he had +fed and brought up for ten years! Her beauty as she stood there did not +hold him back. It was punishment she needed, a beating, a hair-pulling, +until there was no breath left in her impudent body. He sprang forward, +and Peter let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her stick. But she +was a moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his right hand shot +forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of her hair. + +It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, this +hour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. All things in +the world were blotted out for him except one--the six inches of naked +shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and his shoe. He dove in. +His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, sank into it. And a wild and +terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins as he loosed the girl's hair. Peter +heard the yell, and his teeth sank deeper in the flesh of the first +thing he had ever hated. It was the girl, more than Peter, who realized +the horror of what followed. The man bent down and his powerful fingers +closed round Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his wind suddenly shut +off, and his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew back the arm that held +him, as he would have drawn it back to fling a stone. + +With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, and +Peter went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him fiercely +across the face, and in that same moment there was a sickening, crushing +thud as Peter's loosely-jointed little body struck against the face of +the great rock. When Nada turned Peter was groveling in the sand, his +hips and back broken down, but his bright eyes were on her, and without +a whimper or a whine he was struggling to drag himself toward her. Only +Jolly Roger could tell the story of how Peter's mother had died for a +woman, and in this moment it must have been that her spirit entered into +Peter's soul, for the pain of his terrible hurt was forgotten in his +desire to drag himself back to the feet of the girl, and die facing her +enemy--the man. He did not know that he was dragging his broken body +only an inch at a time through the sand. But the girl saw the terrible +truth, and with a cry of agony which all of Hawkin's torture could +not have wrung from her she ran to him, and fell upon her knees, and +gathered him tenderly in her arms. Then, in a flash, she was on her +feet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little demon. + +"For that--I'll kill you!" she panted. "I will. I'll kill you!" + +The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but he +was coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as the +man's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind her a wild fear +possessed her--fear for Peter, and not for herself. Very soon Hawkins +was left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at the fate +that had robbed him of an eye. + +Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran Nada, +her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter to her +breast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, just as +once upon a time she had heard a baby cry--a little baby that was dying. +And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that Peter, too, was +dying. And as she stumbled onward--on toward the black forest, she put +her face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name. + +"Peter--Peter--Peter--" + +And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voice +even in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, and +the girl's breath came in a great sob as she staggered on. + +"It's all right now, Peter," she crooned. "It's all right, baby. He +won't hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to Mister +Roger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy--" + +Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her, +just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when the baby +died. For their grief, in God's reckoning of things, was the same; and +little Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that had made them one +in flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, crying +softly to her, and content to die there close to the warmth of the +creature he loved. + +"Don't cry, baby," she soothed. "Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soon +be all right--all right--" And the sob came again into her throat, and +clung there like a choking fist, until they came to the edge of the big +forest. + +She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not until +then did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there was +no difference at all between the dying baby's face and dying Peter's, +except that one had been white and soft, and Peter's was different--and +covered with hair. + +"God'll take care o' you, Peter," she whispered. "He will--God, 'n' me, +and Mister Roger--" + +She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not even +God, would ever take care of Peter again--in life. His still little face +and the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. For Peter's back +was broken, and he was going--going even now--as she ran moaningly with +him through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he died, before +his heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach Jolly Roger's +friendly cabin, in the big swamp beyond the creek. It was not that he +could save Peter, but something told her that Jolly Roger's presence +would make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her, for in this +first glad spring of her existence the stranger in the forest shack had +brought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her life; and they had set +him up, she and Peter, as they would have set up a god on a shrine. + +So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good +half mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She was +staggering, and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and when she +saw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she remembered what Jolly +Roger had said about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes widened. +Then she looked down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms, +and she drew a quick breath and made up her mind. She knew that at this +shallow place the water could not be more than up to her waist, even at +the flood-tide. But it was running like a mill-race. + +She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them there +for a moment, and kissed him. + +"We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. "We ain't afraid, are we, baby? +We'll make it--sure--sure--we'll make it--" + +She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to her +knees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the water +seemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and tugging at her +as the water deepened to her waist. In another moment she was fighting, +fighting to hold her feet, struggling to keep the forces from driving +her downstream. And then came the supreme moment, close to the shore for +which she was striving. She felt herself giving away, and she cried out +brokenly for Peter not to be afraid. And then something drove pitilessly +against her body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter close with +the other--and caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded like a handle +from the black and slippery log the flood-water had brought down upon +her. + +"We're all right, Peter," she cried, even in that moment when she knew +she had lost. "We're all ri--" + +And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with her +went Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush of the +flood. + +Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow she +was not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been of the +flood-rush of waters that smashed down the creeks in springtime. An +inundating roar was over her, under her, and all about her; it beat in +a hissing thunder against the drums of her ears, yet it did not frighten +her as she had sometimes been frightened. Even in that black chaos which +was swiftly suffocating the life from her, unspoken words of cheer for +Peter formed in her heart, and she struggled to hold him to her, while +with her other hand she fought to raise herself by the stub of the log +to which she clung. For she was not thinking of him as Peter, the dog, +but as something greater--something that had fought for her that day, +and because of her had died. + +Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big log, +turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space her weight +had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the water swirled but +did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then her white face, and with +a last mighty effort she thrust up Peter so that his dripping body was +on the log. Sobbingly she filled her lungs with air. But the drench of +water and her hair blinded her so that she could not see. And she found +all at once that the strength had gone from her body. Vainly she tried +to drag herself up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised herself +a little, so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like a mighty +arm from the log. + +With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was gone, +and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins himself had +often pulled it, and for a few moments the current pounded against her +body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth as it held her there by her +hair. + +If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She could see +now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool into which the +log was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, suddenly, her heart seemed +to stop its beating, and her eyes widened, and in that moment of +astounding miracle she forgot that she was hanging by her hair in the +ugly lip of the flood, with slippery hands beating and pulling at her +from below. For she saw Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making his +way toward the shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be his +dead body drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his head +was above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling-- + +Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something gave +way. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged into the +current, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the pool struck out +with all her last strength until her feet touched bottom, and she could +stand. She wiped the water from her eyes, sobbing in her breathless +fear--her mighty hope. Peter had reached the shore. He had dragged +himself out, and had crumpled down in a broken heap--but he was facing +her, his bright eyes wide open and questing for her. Slowly Nada went +to him. Until now, when it was all over, she had not realized how +helplessly weak she was. Something was turning round and round in her +head, and she was so dizzy that the shore swam before her eyes, and it +seemed quite right to her that Peter should be alive--and not dead. +She was still in a foot of water when she fell on her knees and dragged +herself the rest of the way to him, and gathered him in her arms again, +close up against her wet, choking breast. + +And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a twig +overhead; and the water that a little while before had sung of death +rippled with its old musical joy, and about them the birds sang, and +very near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels chattered and played in +a mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair brightened in the sun, and began +to ripple into curls at the end, and Peter's bristling whiskers grew +dry--so that half an hour after she had dragged herself out of the water +there was a new light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her cheeks that +was like the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a rose. + +"We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter," she +whispered, a little thrill in her voice. + +She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked up +Peter--and winced when he gave a little moan. + +"He'll fix you, Peter," she comforted. "An' it'll be so nice over +here--with him." + +Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun-filled +forest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world filled her +soul, and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill in the touch of +the soft earth under her feet. + +"Flowers," she cried softly. "Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, Peter--" +She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of light and life +about her. And then, "I guess we'll go to Mister Jolly Roger now," she +said. + +She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and rebellious +glory about her, and the violet light grew a little darker in her eyes, +and the color a bit deeper in her cheeks as she walked on into the +forest over the faintly worn foot-trail that led to the old cabin where +Jolly Roger was keeping himself away from the eyes of men. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +From the little old cabin of dead Indian Tom, built in a grassy glade +close to the shore of Sucker Creek, came the sound of a man's laughter. +In this late afternoon the last flooding gold of the sun filled the +open door of the poplar shack. The man's laughter, like the sun on the +mottled tapestry of the poplar-wood, was a heart-lightening thing there +on the edge of the great swamp that swept back for miles to the north +and west. It was the sort of laughter one seldom hears from a man, not +riotous of over-bold, but a big, clean laughter that came from the soul +out. It was an infectious thing. It drove the gloom out of the blackest +night. It dispelled fear, and if ever there were devils lurking in the +edge of old Indian Tom's swamp they slunk away at the sound of it. And +more than once, as those who lived in tepee and cabin and far-away shack +could testify, that laugh had driven back death itself. + +In the shack, this last day of May afternoon, stood leaning over a rough +table the man of the laugh--Roger McKay, known as Jolly Roger, outlaw +extraordinary, and sought by the men of every Royal Northwest Mounted +Police patrol north of the Height of Land. + +It was incongruous and inconceivable to think of him as an outlaw, as he +stood there in the last glow of the sun--an outlaw with the weirdest and +strangest record in all the northland hung up against his name. He was +not tall, and neither was he short, and he was as plump as an apple +and as rosy as its ripest side. There was something cherubic in the +smoothness and the fullness of his face, the clear gray of his eyes, +the fine-spun blond of his short-cropped hair, and the plumpness of his +hands and half-bared arms. He was a priestly, well-fed looking man, was +this Jolly Roger, rotund and convivial in all his proportions, and some +in great error would have called him fat. But it was a strange kind of +fatness, as many a man on the trail could swear to. And as for sin, or +one sign of outlawry, it could not be found in any mark upon him--unless +one closed his eyes to all else and guessed it by the belt and revolver +holster which he wore about his rotund waist. In every other respect +Jolly Roger appeared to be not only a harmless creature, but one +especially designed by the Creator of things to spread cheer and +good-will wherever he went. His age, if he had seen fit to disclose it, +was thirty-four. + +There seemed, at first, to be nothing that even a contented man might +laugh at in the cabin, and even less to bring merriment from one on +whose head a price was set--unless it was the delicious aroma of a +supper just about ready to be served. On a little stove in the farthest +corner of the shack the breasts of two spruce partridges were turning +golden brown in a skittle, and from the broken neck of a coffee pot a +rich perfume was rising with the steam. Piping hot in the open oven half +a dozen baked potatoes were waiting in their crisp brown jackets. + +From the table Jolly Roger turned, rubbing his hands and chuckling as he +went for a third time to a low shelf built against the cabin wall. There +he carefully raised a mass of old papers from a box, and at the movement +there came a protesting squeak, and a little brown mouse popped up +to the edge of it and peered at him with a pair of bright little +questioning eyes. + +"You little devil!" he exulted. "You nervy little devil!" + +He raised the papers higher, and again looked upon his discovery of half +an hour ago. In a soft nest lay four tiny mice, still naked and blind, +and as he lowered the mass of papers the mother burrowed back to them, +and he could hear her squeaking and chirruping to the little ones, as if +she was trying to tell them not to be afraid of this man, for she knew +him very well, and it wasn't in his mind to hurt them. And Jolly Roger, +as he returned to the setting of his table, laughed again--and the laugh +rolled out into the golden sunset, and from the top of a spruce at the +edge of the creek a big blue-jay answered it in a riotous challenge. + +But at the bottom of that laugh, if one could have looked a bit deeper, +was something more than the naked little mice in the nest of torn-up +paper. Today happiness had strangely come this gay-hearted freebooter's +way, and he might have reached out, and seized it, and have kept it for +his own. But in the hour of his opportunity he had refused it--because +he was an outlaw--because strong within him was a peculiar code of honor +all his own. There was nothing of man-made religion in the soul of Roger +McKay. Nature was his god; its manifestations, its life, and the air it +gave him to breathe were the pages which made up the Book that guided +him. And within the last hour, since the sun had begun to drop behind +the tips of the tallest trees, these things had told him that he was +a fool for turning away from the one great thing in all life--simply +because his own humors of existence had made him an outcast and hunted +by the laws of men. So the change had come, and for a space his soul was +filled with the thrill of song and laughter. + +Half an hour ago he believed that he had definitely made up his mind. +He had forced himself into forgetfulness of laws he had broken, and the +scarlet-coated men who were ever on the watch for his trail. They would +never seek him here, in the wilderness country close to the edge of +civilization, and time, he had told himself in that moment of optimism, +would blot out both his identity and his danger. Tomorrow he would go +over to Cragg's Ridge again, and then-- + +His mind was crowded with a vision of blue eyes, of brown curls glowing +in the pale sun, of a wistful, wide-eyed little face turned up to him, +and red lips that said falteringly, "I don't think it's wrong for you to +kiss me--if you want to, Mister Jolly Roger!" + +Boldly he had talked about it to the bright-eyed little mother-mouse who +peered at him now and then over the edge of her box. + +"You're a little devil of iniquity yourself," he told her. "You're a +regular Mrs. Captain Kidd, and you've eaten my cheese, and chawed my +snowshoe laces, and robbed me of a sock to make your nest. I ought +to catch you in a trap, or blow your head off. But I don't. I let you +live--and have a fam'ly. And it's you who have given me the Big Idea, +Mrs. Captain Kidd. You sure have! You've told me I've got a right to +have a nest of my own, and I'm going to have it--an' in that nest is +going to be the sweetest, prettiest little angel that God Almighty ever +forgot to make into a flower! Yessir. And if the law comes--" + +And then, suddenly, the vision clouded, and there came into Jolly +Roger's face the look of a man who knew--when he stood the truth out +naked--that he was facing a world with his back to the wall. + +And now, as the sun went down, and his supper waited--that cloud which +came to blot out his picture grew deeper and more sinister, and the +chill of it entered his heart. He turned from his table to the open +door, and his fingers drew themselves slowly into clenched fists, and he +looked out quietly and steadily into his world. The darkening depths +of the forest reached out before his eyes, mottled and painted in the +fading glory of the sun. It was his world, his everything--father, +mother, God. In it he was born, and in it he knew that some day he would +die. He loved it, understood it, and night and day, in sunshine and +storm, its mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company. But it +held no message for him now. And his ears scarcely heard the raucous +scolding of the blue-jay in the fire-tipped crest of the tall black +spruce. + +And then that something which was bigger than desire came up within him, +and forced itself in words between his grimly set lips. + +"She's only a--a kid," he said, a fierce, low note of defiance in his +voice. "And I--I'm a damned pirate, and there's jails waiting for me, +and they'll get me sooner or later, sure as God lets me live!" + +He turned from the sun to his shadowing cabin, and for a moment a +ghost of a smile played in his face as he heard the little mother-mouse +rustling among her papers. + +"We can't do it," he said. "We simply can't do it, Mrs. Captain Kidd. +She's had hell enough without me taking her into another. And it'd be +that, sooner or later. It sure would, Mrs. Captain Kidd. But I'm glad, +mighty glad, to think she'd let me kiss her--if I wanted to. Think of +that, Mrs. Captain Kidd!--if I wanted to. Oh, Lord!" + +And the humor of it crept in alongside the tragedy in Jolly Roger's +heart, and he chuckled as he bent over his partridge breasts. + +"If I wanted to," he repeated. "Why, if I had a life to give, I'd give +it--to kiss her just once! But, as it happens, Mrs. Captain Kidd--" + +Jolly Roger's breath cut itself suddenly short, and for an instant he +grew tense as he bent over the stove. His philosophy had taught him one +thing above all others, that he was a survival of the fittest--only so +long as he survived. And he was always guarding against the end. His +brain was keen, his ears quick, and every fibre in him trained to +its duty of watchfulness. And he knew, without turning his head, that +someone was standing in the doorway behind him. There had come a faint +noise, a shadowing of the fading sun-glow on the wall, the electrical +disturbance of another presence, gazing at him quietly, without motion, +and without sound. After that first telegraphic shock of warning he +stabbed his fork into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled +loudly--and then with a lightning movement was facing the door, his +forty-four Colt leveled waist-high at the intruder. + +Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his side. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +He stared. And the face in the doorway stared back at him. + +"Nada!" he gasped. "Good Lord, I thought--I thought--" He swallowed as +he tried to lie. "I thought--it might be a bear!" + +He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little figure +of Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet. Her blue eyes were +shining at him, wide and startled. Her cheeks were flushed. A strange +look had frozen on her parted red lips, and her hair was falling loose +in a cloud of curling brown tresses about her shoulders. Jolly Roger, +dreaming of her in his insane happiness of a few minutes ago, sensed +nothing beyond the beauty and the unexpectedness of her in this first +moment. Then--swiftly--he saw the other thing. The last glow of the sun +glistened in her wet hair, her dress was sodden and clinging, and little +pools of water were widening slowly about her ragged shoes. These things +he might have expected, for she had to cross the creek. But it was the +look in her eyes that startled him, as she stood there with Peter, the +mongrel pup, clasped tightly in her arms. + +"Nada, what's happened?" he asked, laying his gun on the table. "You +fell in the creek--" + +"It--it's Peter," she cried, with a sobbing break in her voice. "We come +on Jed Hawkins when he was diggin' up some of his whiskey, and he was +mad, and pulled my hair, and Peter bit him--and then he picked up Peter +and threw him against a rock--and he's terribly hurt! Oh, Mister Jolly +Roger--" + +She held out the pup to him, and Peter whimpered as Jolly Roger took his +wiry little face between his hands, and then lifted him gently. The girl +was sobbing, with passionate little catches in her breath, but there +were no tears in her eyes as they turned for an instant from Peter to +the gun on the table. + +"If I'd had that," she cried, "I'd hev killed him!" + +Jolly Roger's face was coldly gray as he knelt down on the floor and +bent over Peter. + +"He--pulled your hair, you say?" + +"I--forgot," she whispered, close at his shoulder. "I wasn't goin' to +tell you that. But it didn't hurt. It was Peter--" + +He felt the damp caress of her curls upon his neck as she bent over him. + +"Please tell me, Mister Jolly Roger--is he hurt--bad?" + +With the tenderness of a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over +Peter's scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt the +infinite consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid of Jed +Hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its +measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a great happiness to lie +here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over +him and Jolly Roger's hands working to mend his hurt. He whimpered when +Jolly Roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little child +when there came the sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even then he +turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue against the +back of his man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he worked, was giving +instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to bring him cloth +which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten minutes Peter's +right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it was as stiff and as +useless as a piece of wood. + +"His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken," said Jolly Roger when +he had finished. "He is all right now, and inside of three weeks will be +on his feet again." + +He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in his +bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his face, he +turned to Nada. + +She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. And +Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had given his +storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that day. They were +blue, so blue that he had never seen violets like them--and he knew that +in her heart there was no guile behind which she could hide the secret +they were betraying. A yearning such as had never before come into his +life urged him to open his arms to her, and he knew that she would have +come into them; but a still mightier will held them tense and throbbing +at his side. Her cheeks were aflame as she looked at him, and he told +himself that God could not have made a lovelier thing, as she stood +there in her worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light of glory +in her face, and her damp hair waving and curling about her in the last +light of the day. + +"I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger," she whispered, a great pride and +faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. "I knew it!" + +Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began +spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he said, +with his back toward her, + +"You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat--and then I'll go +home with you, as far as the Ridge." + +Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and comfortable +in Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face on his fore-paws +his bright eyes followed every movement of these two who so completely +made up his world. He heard that sweet little laugh which came only now +and then from Nada's lips, when for a moment she was happy; he saw her +shake out her hair in the glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted, +and he observed Jolly Roger standing at the stove--looking at her as she +did it--a worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes turned +toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to nothing +of definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed happiness, +for--somehow--there was always that feeling when they were with Jolly +Roger, no matter whether the sun was shining or the day was dark and +filled with gloom. Many times in his short life he had seen grief and +tears in Nada's face, and had seen her cringe and hide herself at the +vile cursing and witch-like voice of the man and woman back in the other +cabin. But there was nothing like that in Jolly Roger's company. He +had two eyes, and he was not always cursing, and he did not pull Nada's +hair--and Peter loved him from the bottom of his soul. And he knew that +his mistress loved him, for she had told him so, and there was always +a different look in her eyes when she was with Jolly Roger, and it was +only then that she laughed in that glad little way--as she was laughing +now. + +Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, her face +flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring his coffee. And +then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the nicest of the partridge +breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes calm and quiet as he looked at +the adorable sweetness of her across the table from him. To Nada there +was nothing of shame in what lay behind the happiness in the violet +radiance of her eyes. Jolly Roger had brought to her the only happiness +that had ever come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed Hawkins +and his witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought of this +stranger who for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's cabin. +And, like Peter, she loved him. The innocence of it lay naked in her +eyes. + +"Nada," said Jolly Roger. "You're seventeen--" + +"Goin' on eighteen," she corrected quickly. "I was seventeen two weeks +ago!" + +The quick, undefined little note of eagerness in her voice made his +heart thump. He nodded, and smiled. + +"Yes, going on eighteen," he said. "And pretty soon some young fellow +will come along, and see you, and marry you--" + +"O-o-o-h-h-h!" + +It was a little, strange cry that came to her lips, and Jolly Roger saw +a quick throbbing in her bare throat, and her eyes were so wide-open +and startled as she looked at him that he felt, for a moment, as if the +resolution in his soul was giving way. + +"Where are you goin', Mister Roger?" + +"Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere--not for a time, at least. But +you--you'll surely be going away with some one--some day." + +"I won't," she denied hotly. "I hate men! I hate all but you, Mister +Jolly Roger. And if you go away--" + +"Yes, if I go away-- + +"I'll kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Involuntarily she reached out a slim hand to the big gun on the corner +of the table. + +"I'll kill 'im, if you go away," she threatened again, "He's broken his +wife, and crippled her, and if it wasn't for her I'd have gone long ago. +But I've promised, and I'm goin' to stay--until something happens. And +if you go--now--" + +At the choking throb in her throat and the sudden quiver that came to +her lips, Jolly Roger jumped up for the coffee pot, though his cup was +still half full. + +"I won't go, Nada," he cried, trying to laugh. "I promise--cross my +heart and hope to die! I won't go--until you tell me I can." + +And then, feeling that something had almost gone wrong for a moment, +Peter yipped from his nest in the bunk, and the gladness in Nada's eyes +thanked Jolly Roger for his promise when he came back with the coffee +pot. Standing behind her, he made pretense of refilling her cup, though +she had scarcely touched it, and all the time his eyes were looking at +her beautiful head, and he saw again the dampness in her hair. + +"What happened in the creek, Nada?" he asked. + +She told him, and at the mention of his name Peter drew his bristling +little head erect, and waited expectantly. He could see Jolly Roger's +face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a quick smile +flashing over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly Roger leaned a +little toward her in the lampglow, and said, + +"You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever hits you +again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it--will you tell +me?" Nada hesitated. + +"If you don't--I'll take back my promise, and won't stay," he added. + +"Then--I'll promise," she said. "If he does it, I'll tell you. But I +ain't--I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins will sure +kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep him here? +And--o-o-o-h!--if I could only stay, too--" + +The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant a +flood of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger turned +again to the stove, and made as if he had not seen the blush or heard +her last words, so that the shame of her embarrassment was gone as +quickly as it had come. + +"Yes, I'll keep Peter," he said over his shoulder. And in his heart +another voice which she could not hear, was crying, "And I'd give my +life if I could keep you!" + +Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger and +Nada out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half an hour +later. It was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed only the +mosquito-screen, leaving the door wide open, and Peter could hear their +footsteps disappearing slowly into the deep gloom of the forest. It +was a little before moonrise, and under the spruce and cedar and thick +balsam the world was like a black pit. It was very still, and except for +the soft tread of their own feet and the musical ripple of water in the +creek there was scarcely a sound in this first hour of the night. In +Jolly Roger there rose something of exultation, for Nada's warm little +hand lay in his as he guided her through the darkness, and her fingers +had clasped themselves tightly round his thumb. She was very close to +him when he paused to make sure of the unseen trail, so close that her +cheek rested against his arm, and--bending a little--his lips touched +the soft ripples of her hair. But he could not see her in the gloom, and +his heart pounded fiercely all the way to the ford. + +Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like Jolly +Roger. + +"I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada," he said. + +Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of losing him +there in the blackness that lay about them like a great ink-blotch. And +she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all the power in his soul +fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from putting his arms about her slim +little body and crying out the worship that was in him. + +"I ain't--I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet," he heard her whisper +then. "You're so big and strong, Mister Roger--" + +Gently he freed his thumb from her fingers, and picked her up, and held +her high, so that she was against his breast and above the deepest of +the water. Lightly at first Nada's arms lay about his shoulders, but +as the flood began to rush higher and she felt him straining against +it,--her arms tightened, until the clasp of them was warm and thrilling +round Jolly Roger's neck. She gave a big gasp of relief when he stood +her safely down upon her feet on the other side. And then again she +reached out, and found his hand, and twined her fingers about his big +thumb--and Jolly Roger went on with her over the plain toward Cragg's +Ridge, dripping wet, just as the rim of the moon began to rise over the +edge of the eastern forests. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed an interminable wait to Peter, back in the cabin. Jolly Roger +had put out the light, and when the moon came up the glow of it did not +come into the dark room where Peter lay, for the open door was to the +west, and curtains were drawn closely at both windows. But through the +door he could see the first mellowing of the night, and after that the +swift coming of a soft, golden radiance which swallowed all darkness and +filled his world with the ghostly shadows which seemed alive, yet never +made a sound. It was a big, splendid moon this night, and Peter loved +the moon, though he had seen it only a few times in his three months of +life. It fascinated him more than the sun, for it was always light when +the sun came, and he had never seen the sun eat up darkness, as the +moon did. Its mystery awed him, but did not frighten. He could not quite +understand the strange, still shadows which were always unreal when he +nosed into them, and it puzzled him why the birds did not fly about in +the moon glow, and sing as they did in the day-time. And something deep +in him, many generations older than himself, made his blood run faster +when this thing that ate up darkness came creeping through the sky, and +he was filled with a yearning to adventure out into the strange glow +of it, quietly and stealthily, watching and listening for things he had +never seen or heard. + +In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon the open +door, and for a long time he listened only for the returning footsteps +of Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts to drag himself to the +edge of the bunk, but the movement sent such a cutting pain through him +that he did not make a third. And outside, after a time, he heard the +Night People rousing themselves. They were very cautious, these Night +People, for unlike the creatures of the dawn, waking to greet the +sun with song and happiness, most of them were sharp-fanged and +long-clawed-rovers and pirates of the great wilderness, ready to kill. +And this, too, Peter sensed through the generations of northland dog +that was in him. He heard a wolf howl, coming faintly through the night +from miles away, and something told him it was not a dog. From nearer +came the call of a moose, and that same sense told him he had heard +a monster bear which his eyes had never seen. He did not know of the +soft-footed, night-eyed creatures of prey--the fox, the lynx, the +fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine, nor of the round-eyed, feathered +murderers in the tree-tops--yet that same something told him they were +out there among the shadows, under the luring glow of the moon. And +a thing happened, all at once, to stab the truth home to him. A baby +snowshoe rabbit, a third grown, hopped out into the open close to the +cabin door, and as it nibbled at the green grass, a gray catapult of +claw and feathers shot out of the air, and Peter heard the crying agony +of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into the thick spruce tops. Even +then--unafraid--Peter wanted to go out into the moon glow! + +At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and Jolly +Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and stopped in +front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and looking into the +west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over the tree-tops. There was +a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but he choked it back. Jolly Roger +was strangely quiet, and Peter could not hear Nada, and as he sniffed, +and gulped the lump in his throat, he seemed to catch the breath of +something impending in the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and sat down +in darkness near the table, and for a long time Peter kept his eyes +fixed on the shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and listened to +his breathing, until he could stand it no longer, and whined. + +The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match--and then blew +the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and stroked him with +his hand. + +"Peter," he said in a low voice, "I guess we've got a job on our hands. +You began it today--and I've got to finish it. We're goin' to kill Jed +Hawkins!" + +Peter snuggled closer. + +"Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me," Jolly Roger went +on in the darkness, "but until tonight I never made up my mind to kill a +man. I'm ready--now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again we're goin' to kill +him! Understand, Pied-Bot?" + +He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a nest for +Peter on the floor, and stretched himself out in the bunk; and after +that, for a long time, there seemed to be something heavier than the +gloom of night in the cabin for Peter, and he listened and waited and +prayed in his dog way for Nada's return, and wondered why it was that +she left him so long. And the Night People held high carnival under the +yellow moon, and there was flight and terror and slaughter in the glow +of it--and Jolly Roger slept, and the wolf howled nearer, and the creek +chortled its incessant song of running water, and in the end Peter's +eyes closed, and a red-eyed ermine peeped over the sill into the man-and +dog-scented stillness of the outlaw's cabin. + +For many days after this first night in the cabin, Peter did not see +Nada. There was more rain, and the creek flooded higher, so that each +time Jolly Roger went over to Cragg's Ridge he took his life in his +hands in fording the stream. Peter saw no one but Jolly Roger, and at +the end of the second week he was going about on his mended leg. But +there would always be a limp in his gait, and always his right hind-foot +would leave a peculiar mark in the trail. + +These two weeks of helplessness were an education in Peter's life and +were destined to leave their mark upon him always. He learned to know +Jolly Roger, not alone from seeing events, but through an intuitive +instinct that grew swiftly somewhere in his shrewd head. This instinct, +given widest scope in these weeks of helplessness, developed faster than +any other in him, until in the end, he could judge Jolly Roger's humor +by the sound of his approaching footsteps. Never was there a waking hour +in which he was not fighting to comprehend the mystery of the change +that had come over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and each day +that passed put her farther away from him, yet he also sensed the fact +that Jolly Roger went to her, and when the outlaw returned to the cabin +Peter was filled with a yearning hope that Nada was returning with him. + +But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about Jolly +Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man which was +greater than all other things in his world. And in these days Jolly +Roger found in Peter's comradeship and growing understanding a +comforting outlet for the things which at times consumed him. Peter saw +it all--hours when Jolly Roger's voice and laughter filled the cabin +with cheer and happiness, and others when his face was set in grim +lines, with that hard, far-away look in his eyes that Peter could never +quite make out. It was at such times, when Jolly Roger held a choking +grip on the love in his heart, that he told Peter things which he had +never revealed to a human soul. + +In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the creek, +he said to Peter, + +"We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight. +Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for her. I'd +die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a prison cell--if +I could have her with me. And that's dangerous, Peter, because we can't +have her. It's impossible, boy. She doesn't guess why I'm here. She +doesn't know I've been outlawin' it for years, and that I'm hiding here +because the Police would never think of looking for Jolly Roger McKay +this close to civilization. If I told her, she would think I was +worse than Jed Hawkins, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her I've +outlawed with my wits instead of a gun, and that I've never criminally +hurt a person in my life. No, she wouldn't believe that, Peter. And +she--she cares for me, Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And she's got +faith in me, and would go with me to the Missioner's tomorrow. I know +it. I can see it, feel it, and I--" + +His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck. + +"Peter," he whispered in the thickening darkness. "I believe there's a +God, but He's a different sort of God than most people believe in. He +lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in the birds, the sky, in +everything--and I hope that God will strike me dead if I do what isn't +right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he strikes me dead!" + +And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly in +his bunk, and slept but little. + +But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding over +the wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he cooked their +breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling thing about this man. +With gloom and oppression fastened upon him he would rise up suddenly, +and start whistling or singing, and once he said to Peter, + +"I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, no +matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see it. A +laugh never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung." + +Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By that +time he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the fording-place, and +there he would wait, sometimes hours at a stretch, while his comrade and +master went over to Cragg's Ridge. But frequently Jolly Roger would not +cross, but remained with Peter, and would lie on his back at the edge of +a grassy knoll they had found, reading one of the little old-fashioned +red books which Peter knew were very precious to him. Often he wondered +what was between the faded red covers that was so interesting, and if he +could have read he would have seen such titles as "Margaret of Anjou," +"History of Napoleon," "History of Peter the Great," "Caesar," "Columbus +the Discoverer," and so on through the twenty volumes which Jolly Roger +had taken from a wilderness mail two years before, and which he now +prized next to his life. + +This afternoon, as they lay in the sleepy quiet of June, Jolly Roger +answered the questioning inquisitiveness in Peter's face and eyes. + +"You see, Pied-Bot, it was this way," he said, beginning a little +apologetically. "I was dying for something to read, and I figgered +there'd be something on the Mail--newspapers, you know. So I stopped +it, and tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I didn't take +anything else--that time. There's twenty of them, and they weigh nine +pounds, and in the last two years I've toted them five thousand miles. I +wouldn't trade them for my weight in gold, and I'm pretty heavy. I +named you after one of them--Peter. I pretty near called you Christopher +Columbus. And some day we've got to take these books to the man they +were going to, Peter. I've promised myself that. It seems sort of like +stealing the soul out of someone. I just borrowed them, that's all. And +I've kept the address of the owner, away up on the edge of the Barrens. +Some day we're going to make a special trip to take the books home." + +Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and +following the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada +standing quietly on the opposite side of the stream, looking at them. In +a moment Peter knew her, and he was trembling in every muscle when +Jolly Roger caught him up under his arm, and with a happy laugh plunged +through the creek with him. For a good five minutes after that Jolly +Roger stood aside watching Peter and Nada, and there was a glisten +of dampness in his eyes when he saw the wet on Nada's cheeks, and the +whimpering joy of Peter as he caressed her face and hands. Three weeks +had been a long time to Peter, but he could see no difference in the +little mistress he worshipped. There were still the radiant curls to +hide his nose in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, the warm thrill of +her body as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know that she had new +shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had gone from her red +lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could no longer hide +the old haunted look in her eyes. + +But Jolly Roger saw the look, and the growing pallor, and had noted +them for two weeks past. And later that afternoon, when Nada returned to +Cragg's Ridge, and he re-crossed the stream with Peter, there was a hard +and terrible look in his eyes which Peter had caught there more and more +frequently of late. And that evening, in the twilight of their cabin, +Jolly Roger said, + +"It's coming soon, Peter. I'm expecting it. Something is happening which +she won't tell us about. She is afraid for me. I know it. But I'm going +to find out--soon. And then, Pied-Bot, I think we'll probably kill Jed +Hawkins, and hit for the North." + +The gloom of foreboding that was in Jolly Roger's voice and words seemed +to settle over the cabin for many days after that, and more than ever +Peter sensed the thrill and warning of that mysterious something +which was impending. He was developing swiftly, in flesh and bone and +instinct, and there began to possess him now the beginning of that +subtle caution and shrewdness which were to mean so much to him later +on. An instinct greater than reason, if it was not reason itself, told +him that his master was constantly watching for something which did not +come. And that same instinct, or reason, impinged upon him the fact that +it was a thing to be guarded against. He did not go blindly into the +mystery of things now. He circumvented them, and came up from behind. +Craft and cunning replaced mere curiosity and puppyish egoism. He was +quick to learn, and Jolly Roger's word became his law, so that only once +or twice was he told a thing, and it became a part of his understanding. +While the keen, shrewd brain of his Airedale father developed inside +Peter's head, the flesh and blood development of his big, gentle, +soft-footed Mackenzie hound mother kept pace in his body. His legs and +feet began to lose their grotesqueness. Flesh began to cover the knots +in his tail. His head, bristling fiercely with wiry whiskers, seemed to +pause for a space to give his lanky body a chance to catch up with it. +And in spite of his big feet, so clumsy that a few weeks ago they had +stumbled over everything in his way, he could now travel without making +a sound. + +So it came to pass, after a time, that when Peter heard footsteps +approaching the cabin he made no effort to reveal himself until he knew +it was Jolly Roger who was coming. And this was strangely in spite of +the fact that in the five weeks since Nada had brought him from Cragg's +Ridge no one but Jolly Roger and Nada had set foot within sight of the +shack. It was an inborn caution, growing stronger in him each day. There +came one early evening when Peter made a discovery. He had returned with +Jolly Roger from a fishing trip farther down the creek, and scarcely had +he set nose to the little clearing about the cabin when he caught the +presence of a strange scent. He investigated it swiftly, and found it +all about the cabin, and very strong close up against the cabin door. +There were no doubts in Peter's mind. A man had been there, and this man +had gone around and around the cabin, and had opened the door, and had +even gone inside, for Peter found the scent of him on the floor. He +tried, in a way, to tell Jolly Roger. He bristled, and whined, and +looked searchingly into the darkening edge of the forest. Jolly Roger +quested with him for a few moments, and when he failed to find marks in +the ground he began cleaning a fish for supper, and said. + +"Probably a wolverine, Pied-Bot. The rascal came to see what he could +find while we were away." + +But Peter was not satisfied. He was restless all that night. Sounds +which had been familiar now held a new significance for him. The next +day he was filled with a quiet but brooding expectancy. He resented +the intrustion of the strange footprints. It was, in his process of +instinctive reasoning, an encroachment upon the property rights of his +master, and he was--true to the law of his species--the guardian of +those rights. + +The fourth evening after the stranger's visit to the cabin Jolly Roger +was later than usual in returning from Cragg's Ridge. Peter had been on +a hunting adventure of his own, and came to the cabin at sunset. But he +never came out of cover now without standing quietly for a few moments, +getting the wind, and listening. And tonight, poking his head between +some balsams twenty yards from the shack, he was treated to a sudden +thrill. The cabin door was open. And standing close to this door, +looking quietly and cautiously about, stood a stranger. He was not +like Jed Hawkins, was Peter's first impression. He was tall, with a +wide-brimmed hat, and wore boots with striped trousers tucked into them, +and on his coat were bits of metal which caught the last gleams of the +sun. Peter knew nothing of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. But he +sensed danger, and he remained very quiet, without moving a muscle of +his head or body, while the stranger looked about, with a hand on his +unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he entered the cabin, and closed +the door after him, did Peter move back into the deeper gloom of the +forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked through cover to the +foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, across which Jolly Roger +would come from Cragg's Ridge. + +There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. Peter +did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. He remained +sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears flattened, and in his +whole attitude no sign of gladness at his master's coming. With every +instinct of caution developed to the highest degree within him, Jolly +Roger was lightning quick to observe the significance of small things. +He spoke to Peter, caressed him with his hand, and moved on along the +foot-trail toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him moodily, and after +a few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches again. Jolly Roger +was puzzled. + +"What is it, Peter?" he asked. "Are you afraid of that wolverine--" + +Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, and his +eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail beyond the +outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he disappeared around +a twist in the path. There he stopped, and peered back. Peter was not +following him, but still sat where he had left him. A quicker breath +came to Jolly Roger's lips, and he went back to Peter. For fully a +minute he stood beside him, watching and listening, and not once did the +reddish glare in Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. Jolly +Roger's eyes had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on his knees +beside Peter, and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear. + +"You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying to tell +me?" + +Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes from +ahead. + +There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his feet, and +he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the forest, and in the +gloom that was gathering there his hand carried the big automatic. Peter +followed him now, and Jolly Roger swung in a wide circle, so that they +came up on that forest side of the cabin where there was no window. And +here Jolly Roger knelt down beside Peter again, and whispered to him. + +"You stay here, Pied-Bot. Understand? You stay here." + +He pressed him down gently with his hand, so that Peter understood. +Then, slinking low, and swift as a cat, Jolly Roger ran to the end of +the cabin where there was no window. With his head close to the ground +he peered out cautiously at the door. It was closed. Then he looked at +the windows. To the west the curtains were up, as he had left them. And +to the east-- + +A whimsical smile played at the corners of his mouth. Those curtains +he had kept tightly drawn. One of them was down now. But the other was +raised two inches, so that one hidden within the cabin could watch the +approach from the trail! + +He drew back, and under his breath he chuckled. He recognized the sheer +nerve of the thing, the clever handiwork of it. Someone was inside the +cabin, and he was ready to stake his life it was Cassidy, the Irish +bloodhound of "M" Division. If anyone ferreted him out way down here on +the edge of civilization he had gambled with himself that it would be +Cassidy. And Cassidy had come--Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to his +trails for three years, who had chased him across the Barren Lands, who +had followed him up the Mackenzie, and back again--who had fought with +him, and starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought him +to prison. Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy. They had +played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that game +had become the life's ambition of each. And now Cassidy was in there, +confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for him to step into +the trap. + +To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a +deep-seated humor in the situation. Three times in the last year and a +half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him floundering in the +cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had placed for his victim. This +was the fourth time. And Cassidy would be tremendously upset! + +Praying that Peter would remain quiet, Jolly Roger took off his shoes. +After that he made no more sound than a ferret as he crept to the door. +An inch at a time he raised himself, until he was standing up, with +his ear half an inch from the crack that ran lengthwise of the frame. +Holding his breath, he listened. For an interminable time, it seemed +to him, there was no sound from within. He guessed what Cassidy was +doing--peering through that slit of window under the curtain. But he was +not absolutely sure. And he knew the necessity of making no error, with +Cassidy in there, gripping the butt of his gun. + +Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet distinct, +were moving from the window toward the door. Half way they paused, and +turned to one of the windows looking westward. But it was evident the +watcher was not expecting his game from that direction, for after a +moment's silence he returned to the window through which he could see +the trail. This time Jolly Roger was sure. Cassidy was again peering +through the window, with his back toward him, and every muscle in the +forest rover's body gathered for instant action. In another moment he +had flung open the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to +find himself looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun. + +For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly Roger's, +Peter lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly popping from +his head in his eagerness to see what was happening. He heard voices, +and then the wild thrill of Jolly Roger's laughter, and restraining +himself no longer he trotted cautiously to the open door of the cabin. +In a chair sat the stranger with the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, +with his hands securely tied behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling +about, filling a shoulder-pack in the last light of the day. + +"Cassidy, I oughta kill you," Jolly Roger was saying as he worked, an +exultant chuckle in his voice. "You don't give me any peace. No matter +where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I ever invited +you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant flowers over you, now +that I've got the chance. But I'm too chicken-hearted. Besides, I like +you. By the time you get tired of chasing me you should be a pretty good +man-hunter. But just now you lack finesse, Cassidy--you lack finesse." +And Jolly Roger's chuckle broke into another laugh. + +Cassidy heaved out a grunt. + +"It's luck--just damned luck!" he growled. + +"If it is, I hope it keeps up," said Jolly Roger. "Now, look here, +Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it. If you don't get me next time--if +you fail, and I turn the trick on you once more--will you quit?" + +Cassidy's eyes gleamed in the thickening dusk. + +"If I don't get you next time--I'll hand in my resignation!" + +The laughter went out of Jolly Roger's voice. + +"I believe you, Cassidy. You've played square--always. And now--if I +free your hands--will you swear to give me a two hours' start before you +leave this cabin?" + +"I'll give you the start," said Cassidy. + +His lean face was growing indistinct in the gloom. + +Jolly Roger came up behind him. There was the slash of a knife. Then he +picked up his shoulder-pack. At the door he paused. + +"Look at your watch when I'm gone, Cassidy, and be sure you make it a +full two hours." + +"I'll make it two hours and five minutes," said Cassidy. "Hittin' north +are you, Jolly Roger?" + +"I'm hittin'--bushward," replied the outlaw. "I'm going where it's +plenty thick and hard to travel, Cassidy. Goodby--" + +He was gone. He hit straight north, making noise as he went, but once in +the timber he swung southward, and plunged through the creek with Peter +under his arm. Not until they had traveled a good half mile over the +plain did Jolly Roger speak. Then he said, speaking directly at Peter, + +"Cassidy thinks I'll sure hit for the North country again, Pied-Bot. +But we're foolin' him. I've sort of planned on something like this +happening, and right now we're hittin' for the tail-end of Cragg's Ridge +where there's a mess of rock that the devil himself can hardly get into. +We've got to do it, boy. We can't leave the girl--just now. We can't +leave--her--" + +Jolly Roger's voice choked. Then he paused for a moment, and bent over +to put his hand on Peter. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Peter--Cassidy would have got me--sure. And +I'm wondering, Peter--I'm wondering--why did God forget to give a dog +speech?" + +Peter whined in answer, and through the darkness of the night they went +on together. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away as +Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and Cragg's +Ridge. + +They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew the +red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise--he would wait the +full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five minutes +after that. In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed, exultation at +his achievement died away, and there filled him again the old +loneliness--the loneliness which called out against the fate which had +made of Cassidy an enemy instead of a friend. And yet--what an enemy! + +He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand. + +"Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us down," he +protested. "Someone we could have hated, and who would have hated us! +Why did they send Cassidy--the fairest and squarest man that ever wore +red? We can't do him a dirty turn--we can't hurt him, Pied-Bot, even at +the worst. And if ever he takes us in to Headquarters, and looks at us +through the bars, I feel it's going to be like a knife in his heart. But +he'll do it, Peter, if he can. It's his job. And he's honest. We've got +to say that of Cassidy." + +The Ridge loomed up at the edge of the level plain, and for a few +moments Jolly Roger paused, while he looked off through the eastward +gloom. A mile in that direction, beyond the cleft that ran like a great +furrow through the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, still and dark under +the faint glow of the stars. And in that cabin was Nada. He felt that +she was sitting at her little window, looking out into the night, +thinking of him--and a great desire gripped at his heart, tugging him in +its direction. But he turned toward the west. + +"We can't let her know what has happened, boy," he said, feeling the +urge of caution. "For a little while we must let her think we have left +the country. If Cassidy sees her, and talks with her, something in those +blue-flower eyes of hers might give us away if she knew we were hiding +up among the rocks of the Stew-Kettle. But I'm hopin' God A'mighty won't +let her see Cassidy. And I'm thinking He won't, Pied-Bot, because I've a +pretty good hunch He wants us to settle with Jed Hawkins before we go." + +It was a habit of his years of aloneness, this talking to a creature +that could make no answer. But even in the darkness he sensed the +understanding of Peter. + +Rocks grew thicker and heavier under their feet, and they went more +slowly, and occasionally stumbled in the gloom. But, after a fashion, +they knew their way even in darkness. More than once Peter had wondered +why his master had so carefully explored this useless mass of upheaved +rock at the end of Cragg's Ridge. They had never seen an animal or a +blade of grass in all its gray, sun-blasted sterility. It was like a +hostile thing, overhung with a half-dead, slow-beating something that +was like the dying pulse of an evil thing. And now darkness added to +its mystery and its unfriendliness as Peter nosed close at his master's +heels. Up and up they picked their way, over and between ragged +upheavals of rock, twisting into this broken path and that, feeling +their way, partly sensing it, and always ascending toward the stars. +Roger McKay did not speak again to Peter. Each time he came out where +the sky was clear he looked toward the solitary dark pinnacle, far up +and ahead, strangely resembling a giant tombstone in the star-glow, that +was their guide. And after many minutes of strange climbing, in which +it seemed to Jolly Roger the nail-heads in the soles of his boots made +weirdly loud noises on the rocks, they came near to the top. + +There they stopped, and in a deeply shadowed place where there was a +carpet of soft sand, with walls of rock close on either side, Jolly +Roger spread out his blankets. Then he went out from the black shadow, +so that a million stars seemed not far away over their heads. Here he +sat down, and began to smoke, thinking of what tomorrow would hold for +him, and of the many days destined to follow that tomorrow. Nowhere in +the world was there to be--for him--the peace of an absolute certainty. +Not until he felt the cold steel of iron bars with his two hands, and +the fatal game had been played to the end. + +There was no corrosive bitterness of the vengeful in Jolly Roger's +heart. For that reason even his enemies, the Police, had fallen into the +habit of using the nickname which the wilderness people had given him. +He did not hate these police. Curiously, he loved them. Their type +was to him the living flesh and blood of the finest manhood since the +Crusaders. And he did not hate the law. At times the Law, as personified +in all of its unswerving majesty, amused him. It was so terribly serious +over such trivial things--like himself, for instance. It could not +seem to sleep or rest until a man was hanged, or snugly put behind hard +steel, no matter how well that man loved his human-kind--and the +world. And Jolly Roger loved both. In his heart he believed he had not +committed a crime by achieving justice where otherwise there would have +been no justice. Yet outwardly he cursed himself for a lawbreaker. And +he loved life. He loved the stars silently glowing down at him tonight. +He loved even the gray, lifeless rock, which recalled to his imaginative +genius the terrific and interesting life that had once existed--he loved +the ghostly majesty of the grave-like pinnacle that rose above him, and +beyond that he loved all the world. + +But most of all, more than his own life or all that a thousand lives +might hold for him, he loved the violet-eyed girl who had come into his +life from the desolation and unhappiness of Jed Hawkins' cabin. + +Forgetting the law, forgetting all but her, he went at last into the +dungeon-like gloom between the rocks, and after Peter had wallowed +himself a bed in the carpet of sand they fell asleep. + +They awoke with the dawn. But for three days thereafter they went forth +only at night, and for three days did not show themselves above the +barricade of rocks. The Stew-Kettle was what Jolly Roger had called it, +and when the sun was straight above, or descending with the last half of +the day, the name fitted. + +It was a hot place, so hot that at a distance its piled-up masses of +white rock seemed to simmer and broil in the blazing heat of the July +sun. Neither man nor beast would look into the heart of it, Jolly Roger +had assured Peter, unless the one was half-witted and the other a fool. +Looking at it from the meadowy green plain that lay between the Ridge +and the forest their temporary retreat was anything but a temptation to +the eye. Something had happened there a few thousand centuries before, +and in a moment of evident spleen and vexation the earth had vomited up +that pile of rock debris, and Jolly Roger good humoredly told himself +and Peter that it was an act of Providence especially intended for them, +though planned and erupted some years before they were born. + +The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon action. + +This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had seemed +to concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though it was now +almost sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence still hovered about +it. The huge masses of stone were like baked things to the touch of hand +and foot, and one breathed a smoldering air in between their gray and +white walls. + +Thus forbidding looked the Stew-Kettle, when viewed from the plain. But +from the top-most crag of the mass, which rose a hundred feet high at +the end of the Ridge, one might find his reward for a blistering climb. +On all sides, a paradise of green and yellow and gold, stretched the +vast wilderness, studded with shimmering lakes that gleamed here and +there from out of their rich dark frames of spruce and cedar and balsam. +And half way between the edge of the plain and this highest pinnacle of +rock, utterly hidden from the eyes of both man and beast, nestled the +hiding place which Jolly Roger and Peter had found. + +It was a cool and cavernous spot, in spite of the Sahara-like heat of +the great pile. In the very heart of it two gigantic masses of rock had +put their shoulders together, like Gog and Magog, so that under their +ten thousand tons of weight was a crypt-like tunnel as high as a man's +head, into which the light and the glare of the sun never came. + +Peter, now that he had grown accustomed to the deadness of it, liked +this change from Indian Tom's cabin. He liked his wallow of soft sand +during the day, and he liked still more the aloneness and the aloofness +of their ramparted stronghold when the cool of evening came. He did not, +of course, understand just what their escape from Cassidy had meant, but +instinct was shrewdly at work within him, and no wolf could have guarded +the place more carefully than he. And he had all creation in mind when +he guarded the rock-pile. + +All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call +for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart. And on this third afternoon, as +the hot July sun dipped half way to the western forests, both Peter and +his master were looking yearningly, and with the same thought, toward +the east, where over the back-bone of Cragg's Ridge Jed Hawkins' cabin +lay. + +"We'll let her know tonight," Roger McKay said at last, with something +very slow and deliberate in his voice. "We'll take the chance--and let +her know." + +Peter's bristling Airedale whiskers, standing out like a bunch of broom +splints about his face, quivered sympathetically, and he thumped his +tail in the sand. He was an artful hypocrite, was Peter, because he +always looked as if he understood, whether he did or not. And Jolly +Roger, staring at the gray rock-backs outside their tunnel door, went +on. + +"We must play square with her, Pied-Bot, and it's a crime worse than +murder not to let her know the truth. If she wasn't a kid, Peter! But +she's that--just a kid--the sweetest, purest thing God A'mighty ever +made, and it isn't fair to live this lie any longer, no matter how we +love her. And we do love her, Peter." + +Peter lay very quiet, watching the strange gray look that had settled in +Jolly Roger's face. + +"I've got to tell her that I'm a damned highwayman," he added, in a +moment. "And she won't understand, Peter. She can't. But I'm going to +do it. I'm going to tell her--today. And then--I think we'll be hittin' +north pretty soon, Pied-Bot. If it wasn't for Jed Hawkins--" He rose up +out of the sand, his hands clenched. + +"We ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for her," +he finished. + +He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path until +he stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into the northern +wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand miles--was +home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay to the Rockies, from the +Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and in it he had lived the thrill +of life according to his own peculiar code. He knew that he had loved +life as few had ever loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon +and the stars. The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in +spite of its ceaseless peril for him. + +But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood in the +blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a little while, +and because of it he had lived a lie. He had not told Jed Hawkins' +foster-girl that he was an outlaw, and that he had come to the edge of +civilization because he thought it was the last place the Royal Mounted +would look for him. When he went to her this evening it would probably +be for the last time. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her +the police were after him from one end of the Canadian northland to the +other. And that same night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for +the Barren Lands, a thousand miles away. He was sure of himself +now--sure--even as the dark wall of the forest across the plain faded +out, and gave place to a pale, girlish face with eyes blue as flowers, +and brown curls filled with the lustre of the sun--a face that had taken +the place of mother, sister and God deep down in his soul. Yes, he was +sure of himself--even with that face rising lo give battle to his last +great test of honor. He was an outlaw, and the police wanted him, but-- + +Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face. +They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley +McKay led the way out of the rock-pile. + +An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay between +the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light in the cabin, +but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down under the warning +pressure of McKay's hand. + +"I'll go on alone," he said. "You stay here." + +It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not +hear the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the glass +of Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to that +signal-tapping, heard nothing from within, except a monotone of voice +that came from the outer room. For half an hour he waited, repeating the +signals at intervals. At last a door opened, and Nada stood silhouetted +against the light of the room beyond. + +McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly behind the +girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was raised a little from +the bottom. + +"Mister--Roger--" she whispered. "Is it--YOU?" + +"Yes," he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. "It's me." + +The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the girl +was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up quietly in +the dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of Nada's voice at +the window. There was something in the note of it, and in the caution +of Jolly Roger's reply, that held him stiff and attentive, his ears +wide-open for approaching sound. For several minutes he stood thus, and +then the whispering voices at the window ceased and he heard his master +retreating very quietly through the night. When Jolly Roger spoke to +him, back under the broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that +Peter had stood near the window. + +McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin. + +"Something happened there tonight--something she wouldn't tell me +about," he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself. "I could +FEEL it. I wish I could have seen her face." + +He set out over the plain; and then, as if remembering that he must +explain the matter to Peter, he said: + +"She can't get out tonight, Pied-Bot, but she'll come to us in the +jackpines tomorrow afternoon. We'll have to wait." + +He tried to say the thing cheerfully, but between this night and +tomorrow afternoon seemed an interminable time, now that he was +determined to make a clean breast of his affairs to Nada, and leave the +country. Most of that night he walked in the coolness of the moonlit +plain, and for a long time he sat amid the flower-scented shadows of +the trysting-place in the heart of the jackpine clump, where Nada had +a hidden place all her own. It was here that Peter discovered something +which Jolly Roger could not see in the deep shadows, a bundle warm and +soft and sweet with the presence of Nada herself. It was hidden under a +clump of young banksians, very carefully hidden, and tucked about with +grass and evergreen boughs. When McKay left the jackpines he wondered +why it was that Peter showed no inclination to follow him until he was +urged. + +They did not return to the Stew-Kettle until dawn, and most of that +day Jolly Roger spent in sleep between the two big rocks. It was late +afternoon when they made their last meal. In this farewell hour McKay +climbed up close to the pinnacle, where he smoked his pipe and measured +the shadows of the declining sun until it was time to leave for the +jackpines. + +Retracing his steps to the hiding place under Gog and Magog he looked +for Peter. But Peter's sand-wallow was empty, and Peter was gone. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Peter was on his way to the mystery of the bundle he had found in the +jackpines. + +At the foot of the ridge, where the green plain fought with the +blighting edge of the Stew-Kettle, he stood for many minutes before he +started east-ward. With keen eyes gleaming behind his mop of scraggly +face-bristles he critically surveyed both land and air, and then, with +the slight limp in his gait which would always remain as a mark of Jed +Hawkins' brutality, he trotted deliberately in the direction of the +whiskey-runner's cabin home. + +A bitter memory of Jed Hawkins flattened his ears when he came near the +rock-cluttered coulee in which he had fought for Nada, and had suffered +his broken bones, and today--even as he obeyed the instinctive caution +to stop and listen--Jed Hawkins himself came out of the mouth of the +coulee, bearing a brown jug in one hand and a thick cudgel in the other. +His one wicked eye gleamed in the waning sun. His lean and scraggly face +was alight with a sinister exultation as he paused for a moment close to +the rock behind which Peter was hidden, and Peter's fangs lay bare and +his body trembled while the man stood there. Then he moved on, and Peter +did not stir, but waited until the jug and the cudgel and the man were +out of sight. + +Low under his breath he was snarling when he went on. Hatred, for a +moment, had flamed hot in his soul. Then he turned, and buried himself +in a clump of balsams that reached out into the plain, and a few moments +later came to the edge of a tiny meadow in the heart of them, where a +warbler was bursting its throat in evening-song. + +Around the edge of the meadow Peter circled, his feet deep in buttercups +and red fire-flowers, and crushing softly ripe strawberries that grew +in scarlet profusion in the open, until he came to a screen of young +jackpines, and through these he quietly and apologetically nosed his +way. Then he stood wagging his tail, with Nada sitting on the grass +half a dozen steps from him, wiping the strawberry stain from her +finger-tips. And the stain was on her red lips, and a bit of it against +the flush of her cheek, as she gave a little cry of gladness and +greeting to Peter. Her eyes flashed beyond him, and every drop of +blood in her slim, beautiful little body seemed to be throbbing with an +excitement new to Peter as she looked for Jolly Roger. + +Peter went to her, and dropped down, with his head in her lap, and +looking up through his bushy eye-brows he saw a livid bruise just under +the ripples of her brown hair, where there had been no mark yesterday, +or the day before. Nada's hands drew him closer, until he was half in +her lap, and she bent her face down to him, so that her thick, shining +hair fell all about him. Peter loved her hair, almost as much as Jolly +Roger loved it, and he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath of content +as the smothering sweetness of it shut out the sunlight from him. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I'm almost scared to have him come today. I've +promised him. You remember--I promised to tell him if Jed Hawkins struck +me again. And he has! He made that mark, and if Jolly Roger knows it +he'll kill him. I've got to lie--lie--" + +Peter wriggled, to show his interest, and his hard tail thumped the +ground. For a space Nada said nothing more, and he could hear and feel +the beating of her heart close down against him. Then she raised her +head, and looked in the direction from which she would first hear Jolly +Roger as he came through the young jackpines. Peter, with his eyes half +closed in a vast contentment, did not see or sense the change in her +today--that her blue eyes were brighter, her cheeks flushed, and in her +body a strange and subdued throbbing that had never been there before. +Not even to Peter did she whisper her secret, but waited and listened +for Jolly Roger, and when at last she heard him and he came through +the screen of jackpines, the color in her cheeks was like the stain of +strawberries crimsoning her finger-tips. In an instant, looking down +upon her, Jolly Roger saw what Peter had not discovered, and he stopped +in his tracks, his heart thumping like a hammer inside him. Never, even +in his dreams, had the girl looked lovelier than she did now, and never +had her eyes met his eyes as they met them today, and never had her red +lips said as much to him, without uttering a word. In the same instant +he saw the livid bruise, half hidden under her hair--and then he saw a +big bundle behind her, partly screened by a dwarfed banksian. After that +his eyes went back to the bruise. + +"Jed Hawkins didn't do it," said Nada, knowing what was in his mind. "It +was Jed's woman. And you can't kill her!" she added a little defiantly. + +Jolly Roger caught the choking throb in her throat, and he knew she was +lying. But Nada thrust Peter from her lap, and stood up, and she seemed +taller and more like a woman than ever before in her life as she faced +Jolly Roger there in the tiny open, with violets and buttercups and red +strawberries in the soft grass under their feet. And behind them, and +very near, a rival to the warbler in the meadow began singing. But Nada +did not hear. The color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but now +it was fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in front +of her. But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the sky as +she looked at Jolly Roger. + +"I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger," she said. + +A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead, +revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and Nada saw +gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter which always +frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and when she reached +out and touched his arm the flesh of it was as hard as white birch. Even +in her fear there was glory in the thought that at a word from her he +would kill the man who had struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, +timidly, and the blue in her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading +tremble in the curve of her lips as she looked straight at him. + +"I'm not going back," she repeated. + +Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the bundle. +His eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed to swell in his +chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense muscles relax. He tried +to smile. He struggled to bring up the courage which would make possible +the confession he had to make. And Peter, sitting on his haunches in a +patch of violets, watched them both, wondering what was going to happen +between these two. + +"Where are you going?" Jolly Roger asked. + +Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were twisting at +his flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth part of a second did +she drop her eyes, and that strange, wonderful something which he saw +looking at him so clearly out of her soul brought the truth to Jolly +Roger, before she had spoken. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter." + +The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he stepped +back from her. He looked away from her--at Peter. But her pale face, her +parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her radiant hair stirred +by the wind--came between them. She was no longer the little girl--"past +seventeen, goin' on eighteen." To Jolly Roger she was all that the world +held of glorious womanhood. + +"But--you can't!" he cried desperately. "I've come to tell you things, +Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been livin' a +lie--" + +He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth. + +"You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is bad. +But the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've wanted me +for years. That's why I came down here, and hid over in Indian Tom's +cabin--near where I first met you. I thought they wouldn't find me away +down here, but they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big +rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. I'm--an outlaw. I've done a lot of +bad things--in the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet +in me, or in jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life +to be able to tell you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be +square." + +He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as he +went on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. Her lips +seemed redder, and what he was saying did not seem to startle her, or +frighten her. + +"Don't you understand, Nada?" he cried. "I'm bad. The police want me. +I'm a fugitive--always running away, always hiding--an outlaw--" + +She nodded. + +"I know it, Mister Roger," she said quietly. "I heard you tell Peter +that a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place the day after +you and Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and I showed him the +way to Father John's, and he told me a lot about you, and he told Father +John a lot more, and it made me awful proud of you, Mister Roger--and I +want to go with you and Peter!" + +"Proud!" gasped Jolly Roger. "Proud, of ME--" + +She nodded again. + +"Mister Cassidy--the policeman--he used just the word you used a minute +ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other people. He said +he had to get you in jail if he could, but he hoped he never would. He +said he'd like to have a man like you for a brother. And Peter loves +you. And I--" + +The color came into her white face. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter," she finished. + +Something came to relieve the tenseness of the moment for Jolly Roger. +Peter, nosing in a thick patch of bunch-grass, put out a huge snowshoe +rabbit, and the two crashed in a startling avalanche through the young +jackpines, Peter's still puppyish voice yelling in a high staccato as he +pursued. Jolly Roger turned from Nada, and stared where they had gone. +But he was seeing nothing. He knew the hour of his mightiest fight had +come. In the reckless years of his adventuring he had more than once +faced death. He had starved. He had frozen. He had run the deadliest +gantlets of the elements, of beast, and of man. Yet was the strife in +him now the greatest of all his life. His heart thumped. His brain was +swirling in a vague and chaotic struggle for the mastery of things, and +as he fought with himself--his unseeing eyes fixed on the spot where +Peter and the snowshoe rabbit had disappeared--he heard Nada's voice +behind him, saying again that she was going with him and Peter. In those +seconds he felt himself giving way, and the determined action he +had built up for himself began to crumble like sand. He had made his +confession and in spite of it this young girl he worshipped--sweeter and +purer than the flowers of the forest--was urging herself upon him! And +his soul cried out for him to turn about, and open his arms to her, and +gather her into them for as long as God saw fit to give him freedom and +life. + +But still he fought against that mighty urge, dragging reason and right +back fragment by fragment, while Nada stood behind him, her wide-open, +childishly beautiful eyes beginning to comprehend the struggle that was +disrupting the heart of this man who was an outlaw--and her god among +men. And when Jolly Roger turned, his face had aged to the grayness of +stone, and his eyes were dull, and there was a terribly dead note in his +voice. + +"You can't go with us," he said. "You can't. It's wrong--all wrong. I +couldn't take care of you in jail, and some day--that's where I'll be." + +More than once when she had spoken of Jed Hawkins he had seen the swift +flash of lightning come into the violet of her eyes. And it came now, +and her little hands grew tight at her sides, and bright spots burned in +her cheeks. + +"You won't!" she cried. "I won't let you go to jail. I'll fight for +you--if you'll let me go with you and Peter!" + +She came a step nearer. + +"And if I stay here Jed Hawkins is goin' to sell me to a tie-cutter +over on the railroad. That's what it is--sellin' me. I ain't--I mean +I haven't--told you before, because I was afraid of what you'd do. +But it's goin' to happen, unless you let me go with you and Peter. Oh, +Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger--" + +Her fingers crept up his arms. They reached his shoulders, and her blue +eyes, and her red lips, and the woman's soul in her girl-body were so +close to him he could feel their sweetness and thrill, and then he saw a +slow-gathering mist, and tears-- + +"I'll go wherever you go," she was whispering, "And we'll hide where +they won't ever find us, and I'll be happy, so happy, Mister Roger--and +if you won't take me I want to die. Oh--" + +She was crying, with her head on his breast, and her slim, half bare +arms around his neck, and Jolly Roger listened like a miser to the +choking words that came with her sobs. And where there had been tumult +and indecision in his heart there came suddenly the clearness of +sunshine and joy, and with it the happiness of a new and mighty +possession as his arms closed about her, and he turned her face up, +so that for the first time he kissed the soft red lips that for some +inscrutable reason the God of all things had given into his keeping this +day. + +And then, holding her close, with her arms still tighter about his neck, +he cried softly, + +"I'm goin' to take you, little girl. You're goin' with Peter and me, for +ever--and ever. And we'll go--tonight!" + +When Peter came back, just in the last sunset glow of the evening, he +found his master alone in the bit of jackpine opening, and Nada was +swiftly crossing the larger meadow that lay between them and the break +in Cragg's Ridge, beyond which was Jed Hawkins' cabin. It was not the +same Jolly Roger whom he had left half an hour before. It was not the +man of the hiding-place in the rock-pile. Jolly Roger McKay, standing +there in the last soft glow of the day, was no longer the fugitive and +the outcast. He stood with silent lips, yet his soul was crying out its +gratitude to all that God of Life which breathed its sweetness of summer +evening about him. He was the First Possessor of the earth. In that +hour, that moment, he would not have sold his place for all the +happiness of all the remaining people in the world. He cried out +aloud, and Peter, squatted at his feet with his red tongue lolling out, +listened to him. + +"She is mine, mine, mine," he was saying, and he repeated that word over +and over, until Peter quirked his ears, and wondered what it meant. And +then, seeing Peter, Jolly Roger laughed softly, and bent over him, with +a look of awe and wonderment mingling with the happiness in his face. + +"She's mine--ours," he cried boyishly. "God A'mighty took a hand, +Pied-Bot, and she's going with us! We're going tonight, when the moon +comes up. And Peter--Peter--we're going straight to the Missioner's, and +he'll marry us, and then we'll hit for a place where no one in the world +will ever find us. The law may want us, Pied-Bot, but God--this God all +around--is good to us. And we'll try and pay Him back. We will, Peter!" + +He straightened himself, and faced the west. Then he picked up the +bundle Nada had brought, and dived through the jackpines, with Peter at +his heels. Swiftly they moved through the shadowing dusk of the plain, +and came at last to the Stew-Kettle, and to their hiding-place under +the shoulders of Gog and Magog. There was still a faint twilight in the +tunnel, and in this twilight Jolly Roger McKay packed his possessions; +and then, with fingers that trembled as if they were committing a +sacrilege, he drew Nada's few treasures from her bundle and placed them +tenderly with his own. And all the time Peter heard him saying things +under his breath, so softly that it was like the whispered drone of +song. + +In darkness they went down through the rocks to the plain, and half an +hour later they came to the break in the Ridge, and went through it, +and stopped in the black shadow of a great rock, with Jed Hawkins' cabin +half a rifle-shot away. Here Nada was to come to them with the first +rising of the moon. + +It was very still all about, and Peter sensed a significance in the +silence, and lay very quietly watching the light in the cabin, and the +shadowy form of his master. Also he knew that somewhere in the distance +a storm was gathering. The breath of it was in the air, though the sky +was clear of cloud overhead, except for the haze of a gray and ghostly +mist that lay between them and the yellow stars. Jolly Roger counted the +seconds between then and moonrise. It seemed hours before the golden +rim of it rose in the east. Shadows grew swiftly after that. Grotesque +things took shape. The rock-caps of the ridge began to light up, like +timid signal-fires. Black spruce and balsam and cedar glistened as +if bathed in enamel. And the moon came on, and mellow floods of light +played in the valleys and plains, and danced over the forest-tops, and +in voice-less and soundless miracle called upon all living things to +look upon the glory of God. In his soul Jolly Roger McKay felt the urge +and the call of that voiceless Master Power, and through his lips came +an unconscious whisper of prayer--of gratitude. + +And he watched the light in Jed Hawkins' cabin, and strained his ears to +hear a sound of footsteps coming through the moonlight. + +But there was no change. The light did not move. A door did not open or +close. There was no sound, except the growing whisper of the wind, the +call of a night bird, and the howl of the old gray wolf that always +cried out to the moon from the tangled depths of Indian Tom's swamp. + +A thrill of nervousness swept through Jolly Roger. He waited half an +hour, three-quarters, an hour--after the moon had risen. And Nada +did not come. The nervousness grew in him, and he moved out into +the moon-glow, and slowly and watchfully followed the edge of the +rock-shadows until he came to the fringe of cedars and spruce behind +the cabin. Peter, careful not to snap a twig under his paws, followed +closely. They came to the cabin, and there--very distinctly--Jolly Roger +McKay heard the low moaning of a voice. + +He edged his way to the window, and looked in. + +Crouched beside a chair in the middle of the floor was Jed Hawkins's +woman. She was moaning, and her thin body was rocking back and forth, +and with her hands clasped at her bony breast she was staring at the +open door. With a shock Jolly Roger saw that except for the strangely +crying old woman the cabin was empty. Sudden fear chilled his blood--a +fear that scarcely took form before he was at the door, and in the +cabin. The woman's eyes were red and wild as she stared at him, and she +stopped her moaning, and her hands unclasped. Jolly Roger went nearer +and bent over her and shivered at the half-mad terror he saw in her +face. + +"Where is Nada?" he demanded. "Tell me--where is she?" + +"Gone, gone, gone," crooned the woman, clutching her hands at her breast +again. "Jed has taken her--taken her to Mooney's shack, over near the +railroad. Oh, my God!--I tried to keep her, but I couldn't. He dragged +her away, and tonight he's sellin' her to Mooney--the devil--the black +brute--the tie-cutter--" + +She choked, and began rocking herself back and forth, and the moaning +came again from her thin lips. Fiercely McKay gripped her by the +shoulder. + +"Mooney's shack--where?" he cried. "Quick! Tell me!" + +"A thousand--a thousand--he's givin' a thousand dollars to git her in +the shack--alone," she cried in a dull, sing-song voice. "The road out +there leads straight to it. Near the railroad. A mile. Two miles. I +tried to keep him from doin' it, but I couldn't--I couldn't--" + +Jolly Roger heard no more. He was out of the door, and running across +the open, with Peter racing close behind him. They struck the road, and +Jolly Roger swung into it, and continued to run until the breath was out +of his lungs. And all that time the things Nada had told him about Jed +Hawkins and the tie-cutter were rushing madly through his brain. An +hour or two ago, when the words had come from her lips in the jackpine +thicket, he had believed that Nada was frightened, that a distorted fear +possessed her, that such a thing as she had half confessed to him +was too monstrous to happen. And now he cried out aloud, a groaning, +terrible cry as he went on. Hawkins and Nada had reached Mooney's shack +long before this, a shack buried deep in the wilderness, a shack from +which no cries could be heard-- + +Peter, trotting behind, whined at what he heard in Jolly Roger McKay's +panting voice. And the moon shone on them as they staggered and ran, +and here and there dark clouds were racing past the face of it, and the +slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in the air. And then came the +time when one of the dark clouds rode under the moon and the two ran on +in darkness. The cloud passed, and the moon flooded the road again with +light--and suddenly Jolly Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart +almost broke in the strain of that moment. + +Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was Nada. +Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid light of the +moon. Her hair was tangled and twisted about her shoulders and over her +breast. One arm was bare where the sleeve had been torn away, and her +girlish breast gleamed white where her waist had been stripped half from +her body. And then she saw Jolly Roger in the trail, with wide-open, +reaching arms, and with a cry such as Peter had never heard come from +her lips before she ran into them, and held up her face to him in the +yellow moon-light. In her eyes--great, tearless, burning pools--he saw +the tragedy and yet it was only that, and not horror, not despair, NOT +the other thing. His arms closed crushingly about her. Her slim body +seemed to become a part of him. Her hot lips reached up and clung to +his. + +And then, + +"Did--he get you--to--Mooney's shack--" He felt her body stiffen against +him. + +"No," she panted. "I fought--every inch. He dragged me, and hit me, and +tore my clothes--but I fought. And up there--in the trail--he turned +his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and I hit him with a +club. And he's there, now, on his back--" + +She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's length. A +cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was low, and terrible. + +"Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can," he said, fighting to +speak coolly. "Take Peter--and go. You will make it before the storm +breaks. I am going back to have a few words with Jed Hawkins--alone. +Then I will join you, and the Missioner will marry us--" + +The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear had +disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of the night. +Her red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure of their purity +and love, and for a moment he held her close in his arms again, kissing +her as he might have kissed an angel, while her little hands stroked his +face, and she laughed softly and strangely in her happiness--the wonder +of a woman's soul rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her girlhood. + +And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to go. + +"Hurry, little girl," he said. "Hurry--before the storm breaks!" + +She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the trail, +not once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he would this +night wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation. Never before had he +felt the desire to kill. But he felt that desire now. Before the night +was much older he would do unto Hawkins and Mooney as Hawkins had done +unto Peter. He would leave them alive, but broken and crippled and +forever punished. + +And then he stumbled over something in another darkening of the moon. He +stopped, and the light came again, and he looked down into the upturned +face of Jed Hawkins. It was a distorted and twisted face, and its one +eye was closed. The body did not move. And close to the head was the +club which Nada had used. + +Jolly Roger laughed grimly. Fate was kind to him in making a half of his +work so easy. But he wanted Hawkins to rouse himself first. Roughly he +stirred him with the toe of his boot. + +"Wake up, you fiend," he said. "I'm going to break your bones, your +arms, your legs, just as you broke Peter--and that poor old woman back +in the cabin. Wake up!" + +Jed Hawkins made no stir. He was strangely limp. For many seconds Jolly +Roger stood looking down at him, his eyes growing wider, more staring. +Darkness came again. It was an inky blackness this time, like a +blotter over the world. Low thunder came out of the west. The tree-tops +whispered in a frightened sort of way. And Jolly Roger could hear his +heart beating. He dropped upon his knees, and his hands moved over Jed +Hawkins. For a space not even Peter could have heard his movement or his +breath. + +In the ebon darkness he rose to his feet, and the night--lifelessly +still for a moment--heard the one choking word that came from his lips. + +"Dead!" + +And there he stood, the heat of his rage changing to an icy chill, his +heart dragging within him like a chunk of lead, his breath choking in +his throat. Jed Hawkins was dead! He was growing stiff there in the +black trail. He had ceased to breathe. He had ceased to be a part of +life. And the wind, rising a little with the coming of storm, seemed to +whisper and chortle over the horrible thing, and the lone wolf in Indian +Tom's swamp howled weirdly, as if he smelled death. + +Jolly Roger McKay's finger-nails dug into the flesh of his palms. If he +had killed the human viper at his feet, if his own hands had meted out +his punishment, he would not have felt the clammy terror that wrapped +itself about him in the darkness. But he had come too late. It was Nada +who had killed Jed Hawkins. Nada, with her woman's soul just born in +all its glory, had taken the life of her foster-father. And Canadian law +knew no excuse for killing. + +The chill crept to his finger-tips, and unconsciously, in a childish +sort of way, he sobbed between his clenched teeth. The thunder was +rolling nearer, and it was like a threatening voice, a deep-toned +booming of a thing inevitable and terrible. He felt the air shivering +about him, and suddenly something moved softly against his foot, and he +heard a questioning whine. It was Peter--come back to him in this hour +when he needed a living thing to give him courage. With a groan he +dropped on his knees again, and clutched his hands about Peter. + +"My God," he breathed huskily. "Peter, she's killed him. And she mustn't +know. We mustn't let anyone know--" + +And there he stopped, and Peter felt him growing rigid as stone, and for +many moments Jolly Roger's body seemed as lifeless as that of the man +who lay with up-turned face in the trail. Then he fumbled in a pocket +and found a pencil and an old envelope. And on the envelope, with the +darkness so thick he could not see his hand, he scribbled, "I killed +Jed Hawkins," and after that he signed his name firmly and fully--"Jolly +Roger McKay." + +Then he tucked the envelope under Jed Hawkins' body, where the rain +could not get at it. And after that, to make the evidence complete, he +covered the dead man's face with his coat. + +"We've got to do it, Peter," he said, and there was a new note in his +voice as he stood up on his feet again. "We've got to do it--for her. +We'll--tell her we caught Jed Hawkins in the trail and killed him." + +Caution, cleverness, his old mental skill returned to him. He dragged +the boot-legger's body to a new spot, turned it face down, threw the +club away, and kicked up the earth with his boots to give signs of a +struggle. + +The note in his voice was triumph--triumph in spite of its +heartbreak--as he turned back over the trail after he had finished, and +spoke to Peter. + +"We may have done some things we oughtn't to, Pied-Bot," he said, "but +tonight I sort o' think we've tried to make--restitution. And if they +hang us, which they probably will some time, I sort o' think it'll make +us happy to know we've done it--for her. Eh, Pied-Bot?" + +And the moon sailed out for a space, and shone on the dead whiteness +of Jolly Roger's face. And on the lips of that face was a strange, cold +smile, a smile of mastery, of exaltation, and the eyes were looking +straight ahead--the eyes of a man who had made his sacrifice for a thing +more precious to him than his God. + +Only now and then did the moon gleam through the slow-moving masses of +black cloud when he came to the edge of the Indian settlement clearing +three miles away, where stood the cabin of the Missioner. The storm had +not broken, but seemed holding back its forces for one mighty onslaught +upon the world. The thunder was repressed, and the lightning held in +leash, with escaping flashes of it occasionally betraying the impending +ambuscades of the sky. + +The clearing itself was a blot of stygian darkness, with a yellow patch +of light in the center of it--the window of the Missioner's cabin. And +Jolly Roger stood looking at it for a space, as a carven thing of rock +might have stared. His heart was dead. His soul crushed. His dream +broken. There remained only his brain, his mind made up, his worship for +the girl--a love that had changed from a thing of joy to a fire of agony +within him. Straight ahead he looked, knowing there was only one thing +for him to do. And only one. There was no alternative. No hope. No +change of fortune that even the power of God might bring about. What lay +ahead of him was inevitable. + +After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of +dying for one's country--or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay felt +that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at the +door, and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired Missioner +in the lampglow. + +Swift as one of the flashes of lightning in the sky the anxiety and fear +had gone out of Nada's face, and in an instant it was flooded with the +joy of his coming. She did not mark the strange change in him, but +went to him as she had gone to him in the trail, and Jolly Roger's arms +closed about her, but gently this time, and very tenderly, as he might +have held a little child he was afraid of hurting. Then she felt the +chill of his lips as she pressed her own to them. Startled, she looked +up into his eyes. And as he had done in the trail, so now Jolly Roger +stood her away from him, and faced the Missioner. In a cold, hard voice +he told what had happened to Nada that evening, and of the barbarous +effort Jed Hawkins had made to sell her to Mooney. Then, from a pocket +inside his shirt, he drew out a small, flat leather wallet, and thrust +it in the little Missioner's hand. + +"There's close to a thousand dollars in that," he said. "It's mine. And +I'm giving it to you--for Nada. I want you to keep her, and care for +her, and mebby some day--" + +With both her hands Nada clutched his arm. Her eyes had widened. Swift +pallor had driven the color from her face, and a broken cry was in her +voice. + +"I'm goin' with you," she protested. "I'm goin' with you--and Peter!" + +"You can't--now," he said. "I've got to go alone, Nada. I went back--and +I killed Jed Hawkins." + +Over the roof of the cabin rolled a crash of thunder. As the explosion +of it rocked the floor under their feet, Jolly Roger pointed to a door, +and said, + +"Father, if you will leave us alone--just a minute--" + +White-faced, clutching the wallet, the little gray Missioner nodded, and +went to the door, and as he opened it and entered into the darkness of +the other room he saw Jolly Roger McKay open wide his arms, and the girl +go into them. After that the storm broke. The rain descended in a deluge +upon the cabin roof. The black night was filled with the rumble and roar +and the hissing lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly freed of +bondage. And in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a little +gray man of tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer and of +faith in God--his heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he waited. +The minutes passed. Five. Ten. And then there came a louder roaring of +the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew that a door +was opened--and closed. + +He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled +at the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the +lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair--lay Nada, and close +beside her was Peter. He went to her. Tenderly he knelt down beside her. +His thin arm went about her, and as the storm raved and shrieked above +them he tried to comfort her--and spoke of God. + +And through that storm, his head bowed, his heart gone, went Jolly Roger +McKay--heading north. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter, thrust back from the door through which through which his master +had gone, listened vainly for the sound of returning footsteps in the +beat of rain and the crash of thunder outside. A strange thing had +burned itself into his soul, a thing that made his flesh quiver and set +hot fires running in his blood. As a dog sometimes senses the stealthy +approach of death, so he began to sense the tragedy of this night that +had brought with it not only a chaos of blackness and storm, but an +anguish which roused an answering whimper in his throat as he turned +toward Nada. + +She was crumpled with her head in her arms, where she had flung herself +with Jolly Roger's last kiss of worship on her lips, and she was sobbing +like a child with its heart broken. And beside her knelt the old gray +Missioner, man of God in the deep forest, who stroked her hair with his +thin hand, whispering courage and consolation to her, with the wind and +rain beating overhead and the windows rattling to the accompaniment of +ghostly voices that shrieked and wailed in the tree-tops outside. + +Peter trembled at the sobbing, but his heart and his desire were with +the man who had gone. In his unreasoning little soul it was Jed Hawkins +who was rattling the windows with his unseen hands and who was pounding +at the door with the wind, and who was filling the black night with its +menace and fear. He hated this man, who lay back in the trail with his +lifeless face turned up to the deluge that poured out of the sky. And he +was afraid of the man, even as he hated him, and he believed that Nada +was afraid of him, and that because of her fear she was crying there +in the middle of the floor, with Father John patting her shoulder +and stroking her hair, and saying things to her which he could not +understand. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to feel himself close +against her, as Nada had held him so often in those hours when she had +unburdened her grief and her unhappiness to him. But even stronger than +this desire was the one to follow his master. + +He went to the door, and thrust his nose against the crack at the bottom +of it. He felt the fierceness of the wind fighting to break in, and the +broken mist of it filled his nostrils. But there came no scent of Jolly +Roger McKay. For a moment he struggled at the crack with his paws. Then +he flopped himself down, his heart beating fast, and fixed his eyes +inquiringly on Nada and the Missioner. + +His four and a half months of life in the big wilderness, and his weeks +of constant comradeship with Jolly Roger, had developed in him a brain +that was older than his body. No process of reasoning could impinge +upon him the fact that his master was an outlaw, but with the swift +experiences of tragedy and hiding and never-ceasing caution had come +instinctive processes which told him almost as much as reason. He knew +something was wrong tonight. It was in the air. He breathed it. It +thrilled in the crash of thunder, in the lightning fire, in the mighty +hands of the wind rocking the cabin and straining at the windows. And +vaguely the knowledge gripped him that the dead man back in the trail +was responsible for it all, and that because of this something that +had happened his mistress was crying and his master was gone. And he +believed he should also have gone with Jolly Roger into the blackness +and mystery of the storm, to fight with him against the one creature in +all the world he hated--the dead man who lay back in the thickness of +gloom between the forest walls. + +And the Missioner was saying to Nada, in a quiet, calm voice out of +which the tragedies of years had burned all excitement and passion: + +"God will forgive him, my child. In His mercy He will forgive Roger +McKay, because he killed Jed Hawkins to save YOU. But man will not +forgive. The law has been hunting him because he is an outlaw, and to +outlawry he has added what the law will call murder. But God will not +look at it in that way. He will look into the heart of the man, the man +who sacrificed himself--" + +And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting hand, and +Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the lampglow. + +"I don't care what God thinks," she cried passionately. "God didn't do +right today. Mister Roger told me everything, that he was an outlaw, an' +I oughtn't to marry him. But I didn't care. I loved him. I could hide +with him. An' we were coming to have you marry us tonight when God let +Jed Hawkins drag me away, to sell me to a man over on the railroad--an' +it was God who let Mister Roger go back and kill him. I tell you He +didn't do right! He didn't--he didn't--because Mister Roger brought me +the first happiness I ever knew, an' I loved him, an' he loved me--an' +God was wicked to let him kill Jed Hawkins--" + +Her voice cried out, a woman's soul broken in a girl's body, and Peter +whimpered and watched the Missioner as he raised Nada to her feet +and went with her into his bedroom, where a few minutes before he had +lighted a lamp. And Peter crept in quietly after them, and when the +Missioner had gone and closed the door, leaving them alone in their +tragedy, Nada seemed to see him for the first time and slowly she +reached out her arms. + +"Peter!" she whispered. "Peter--Peter--" + +In the minutes that followed, Peter could feel her heart beating. +Clutched against her breast he looked up at the white, beautiful face, +the trembling throat, the wide-open blue eyes staring at the one black +window between them and the outside night. A lull had come in the storm. +It was quiet and ominous stillness, and the ticking of a clock, old and +gray like the Missioner himself, filled the room. And Nada, seated on +the edge of Father John's bed, no longer looked like the young girl of +"seventeen goin' on eighteen." That afternoon, in the hidden jackpine +open, with its sweet-scented jasmines, its violets and its crimson +strawberries under their feet, the soul of a woman had taken possession +of her body. In that hour the first happiness of her life had come to +her. She had heard Jolly Roger McKay tell her those things which she +already knew--that he was an outlaw, and that he was hiding down on +the near-edge of civilization because the Royal Mounted were after him +farther north--and that he was not fit to love her, and that it was a +crime to let her love him. It was then the soul of the woman had come +to her in all its triumph. She had made her choice, definitely and +decisively, without hesitation and without fear. And now, as she stared +unseeingly at the window against which the rain was beating, the +woman in her girlish body rose in her mightier than in the hour of her +happiness, fighting to find a way--crying out for the man she loved. + +Her mind swept back in a single flash through all the years she had +lived, through her years of unhappiness and torment as the foster-girl +of Jed Hawkins and his broken, beaten wife; through summers and winters +that had seemed ages to her, eternities of desolation, of heartache, +of loneliness, with the big wilderness her one friend on earth. As the +window rattled in a fresh blast of storm, she thought of the day months +ago when she had accidentally stumbled upon the hiding-place of Roger +McKay. Since that day he had been her God, and she had lived in a +paradise. He had been father, mother, brother, and at last--what she +most yearned for--a lover to her. And this day, when for the first time +he had held her in his arms, when the happiness of all the earth had +reached out to them, God had put it into Jed Hawkins' heart to destroy +her--and Jolly Roger had killed him! + +With a sharp little cry she sprang to her feet, so suddenly that Peter +fell with a thump to the floor. He looked up at her, puzzled, his jaws +half agape. She was breathing quickly. Her slender body was quivering. +Suddenly Peter saw the fire in her eyes and the flame that was rushing +into her white cheeks. Then she turned to him, and panted in a wild +little whisper, so low that the Missioner could not hear: + +"Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill +Jed Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be killed. +Peter--Peter--we don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' with him. +We're goin'--goin'--" + +She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she strained at +it with all her strength, and he could hear her sobbing: + +"We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'--if we die for it!" + +An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A gust of +wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada saw a knife in +an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped for it, and clutched it +in her hand as she climbed through the window and dropped to the soggy +ground beneath. In a single leap Peter followed her. Blackness swallowed +them as they turned toward the trail leading north--the only trail which +Jolly Roger could travel on a night like this. They heard the voice +of the Missioner calling from the window behind them. Then a crash of +thunder set the earth rolling under their feet, and the lull in +the storm came to an end. The sky split open with the vivid fire +of lightning. The trees wailed and whined, the rain fell again in a +smothering deluge, and through it Nada ran, gripping the knife as her +one defense against the demons of darkness--and always close at her side +ran Peter. + +He could not see her in that pitchy blackness, except when the lightning +flashes came. Then she was like a ghostly wraith, with drenched +clothes clinging to her until she seemed scarcely dressed, her wet hair +streaming and her wide, staring eyes looking straight ahead. After +the lightning flashes, when the world was darkest, he could hear the +stumbling tread of her feet and the panting of her breath, and now and +then the swish of brush as it struck across her face and breast. The +rain had washed away the scent of his master's feet but he knew they +were following Jolly Roger, and that the girl was running to overtake +him. In him was the desire to rush ahead, to travel faster through the +night, but Nada's stumbling feet and her panting breath and the strange +white pictures he saw of her when the sky split open with fire held him +back. Something told him that Nada must reach Jolly Roger. And he was +afraid she would stop. He wanted to bark to give her encouragement, as +he had often barked in their playful races in the green plain-lands on +the farther side of Cragg's Ridge. But the rain choked him. It beat down +upon him with the weight of heavy hands, it slushed up into his face +from pools in the trail and drove the breath from him when he attempted +to open his jaws. So he ran close--so close that at times Nada felt the +touch of his body against her. + +In these first minutes of her fight to overtake the man she loved Nada +heard but one voice--a voice crying out from her heart and brain and +soul, a voice rising above the tumult of thunder and wind, urging her +on, whipping the strength from her frail body in pitiless exhortation. +Jolly Roger was less than half an hour ahead of her. And she must +overtake him--quickly--before the forests swallowed him, before he was +gone from her life forever. + +The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. When +the brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and stumbled +on. Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay across her path, +and dragged her bruised body through their twisted tops, moaning to +Peter and clutching tightly to the sheathed knife in her hand. And the +wild spirits that possessed the night seemed to gather about her, and +over her, exulting in the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in +weird and savage joy at the discovery of this human plaything struggling +against their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he heard it now. +It rocked the earth under his feet. It filled the world with a ceaseless +rumble, and the lightning came like flashes from swift-loading guns, and +with it all a terrific assault of wind and rain that at last drove Nada +down in a crumpled heap, panting for breath, with hands groping out +wildly for him. + +Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found the palm +of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to her, while she +bowed her head until her drenched curls became a part of the mud and +water of the trail. Peter could hear her sobbing for breath. And then +suddenly, there came a change. The thunder was sweeping eastward. The +lightning was going with it. The wind died out in wailing sobs among the +treetops, and the rain fell straight down. Swiftly as its fury had come, +the July storm was passing. And Nada staggered to her feet again and +went on. + +Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging itself +out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. She began to +reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith and confidence gave +her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger would take this trail, for +it was the one trail leading from the Missioner's cabin through the +thick forest country north. And in half an hour he would not travel far. +The thrilling thought came to her that possibly he had sought shelter in +the lee of a big tree trunk during the fury of the storm. If he had done +that he would be near, very near. She paused in the trail and gathered +her breath, and cried out his name. Three times she called it, and only +the low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. Twice again during the +next ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she could into the darkness. +And still no answer came back to her through the gloom ahead. + +The trail had dipped, and she felt the deepening slush of swamp-mire +under her feet. She sank in it to her shoe-tops, and stumbled into pools +knee-deep, and Peter wallowed in it to his belly. A quarter of an hour +they fought through it to the rising ground beyond. And by that time the +last of the black storm clouds had passed overhead. The rain had ceased. +The rumble of thunder came more faintly. There was no lightning, and the +tree-tops began to whisper softly, as if rejoicing in the passing of the +wind. About them--everywhere--they could hear the run and drip of water, +the weeping of the drenched trees, the gurgle of flooded pools, and the +trickle of tiny rivulets that splashed about their feet. Through a rift +in the breaking clouds overhead came a passing flash of the moon. + +"We'll find him now, Peter," moaned the girl. "We'll find him--now. He +can't be very far ahead--" + +And Peter waited, holding his breath, listening for an answer to the cry +that went out for Jolly Roger McKay. + +The glory of July midnight, with a round, full moon straight overhead, +followed the stress of storm. The world had been lashed and inundated, +every tree whipped of its rot and slag, every blade of grass and flower +washed clean. Out of the earth rose sweet smells of growing life, the +musky fragrance of deep moss and needle-mold, and through the clean air +drifted faintly the aroma of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of +unending canopies and glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into +the night. The deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an +invisible and mysterious life--life that was still, yet wide-awake, +breathing, watchful, drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air which +had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar of wind and +rain. And the moon, like a queen who had so ordered these things, +looked down in a mighty triumph. Her radiance, without dust or fog or +forest-smoke to impede its way, was like the mellow glow of half-day. It +streamed through the treetops in paths of gold and silver, throwing dark +shadows where it failed to penetrate, and gathering in wide pools where +its floods poured through broad rifts in the roofs of the forest. +And the trail, leading north, was like a river of shimmering silver, +splitting the wilderness from earth to sky. + +In this trail, clearly made in the wet soil, were Jolly Roger's +foot-prints, and in a wider space, where at some time a trapper had +cleared himself a spot for his tepee or shack, Jolly Roger had paused +to rest after his fight through the storm--and had then continued on his +way. And into this clearing, three hours after they left the Missioner's +cabin, came Nada and Peter. + +They came slowly, the girl a slim wraith in the moon-light; in the open +they stood for a moment, and Peter's heart weighed heavily within him as +his mistress cried out once more for Jolly Roger. Her voice rose only in +a sob, and ended in a sob. The last of her strength was gone. Her little +figure swayed, and her face was white and haggard, and in her drawn lips +and staring eyes was the agony of despair. She had lost, and she +knew that she had lost as she crumpled down in the trail, crying out +sobbingly to the footprints which led so clearly ahead of her. + +"Peter, I can't go on," she moaned. "I can't--go on--" + +Her hands clutched at her breast. Peter saw the glint of the moonlight +on the ivory sheath of the Eskimo knife, and he saw her white face +turned up to the sky--and also that her lips were moving, but he did not +hear his name come from them, or any other sound. He whined, and foot by +foot began to nose along the trail on the scent left by Jolly Roger. It +was very clear to his nostrils, and it thrilled him. He looked back, and +again he whined his encouragement to the girl. + +"Peter!" she called. "Peter!" + +He returned to her. She had drawn the knife out of its scabbard, and the +cold steel glistened in her hand. Her eyes were shining, and she reached +out and clutched Peter close up against her, so that he could hear the +choke and throb of her heart. + +"Oh, Peter, Peter," she panted. "If you could only talk! If you could +run and catch Mister Roger, an' tell him I'm here, an' that he must come +back--" + +She hugged him closer. He sensed the sudden thrill that leapt through +her body. + +"Peter," she whispered, "will you do it?" + +For a few moments she did not seem to breathe. Then he heard a quick +little cry, a sob of inspiration and hope, and her arms came from about +him, and he saw the knife flashing in the yellow moonlight. + +He did not understand, but he knew that he must watch her carefully. She +had bent her head, and her hair, nearly dry, glowed softly in the face +of the moon. Her hands were fumbling in the disheveled curls, and Peter +saw the knife flash back and forth, and heard the cut of it, and then he +saw that in her hand she held a thick brown tress of hair that she had +severed from her head. He was puzzled. And Nada dropped the knife, and +his curiosity increased when she tore a great piece out of her tattered +dress, and carefully wrapped the tress of hair in it. Then she drew +him to her again, and tied the knotted fold of dress securely about his +neck; after that she tore other strips from her dress, and wound them +about his neck until he felt muffled and half smothered. + +And all the time she was talking to him in a half sobbing, excited +little voice, and the blood in Peter's body ran swifter, and the strange +thrill in him was greater. When she had finished she rose to her feet, +and stood there swaying back and forth, like one of the spruce-top +shadows, while she pointed up the moonlit trail. + +"Go, Peter!" she cried softly. "Quick! Follow him, Peter--catch +him--bring him back! Mister Roger--Jolly Roger--go, Peter! Go--go--go--" + +It was strange to Peter. But he was beginning to understand. He sniffed +in Jolly Roger's footprints, and then he looked up quickly, and saw +that it had pleased the girl. She was urging him on. He sniffed from one +footprint to another, and Nada clapped her hands and cried out that he +was right--for him to hurry--hurry-- + +Impulse, thought, swiftly growing knowledge of something to be done +thrilled in his brain. Nada wanted him to go. She wanted him to go to +Jolly Roger. And she had put something around his neck which she wanted +him to take with him. He whined eagerly, a bit excitedly. Then he began +to trot. Instinctively it was his test. She did not call him back. He +flattened his ears, listening for her command to return, but it did not +come. And then the thrill in him leapt over all other things. He was +right. He was not abandoning Nada. He was not running away. She WANTED +him to go! + +The night swallowed him. He became a part of the yellow floods of its +moonlight, a part of its shifting shadows, a part of its stillness, its +mystery, its promise of impending things. He knew that grim and terrible +happenings had come with the storm, and he still sensed the nearness of +tragedy in this night-world through which he was passing. He did not go +swiftly, yet he went three times as fast as the girl and he had traveled +together. He was cautious and watchful, and at intervals he stopped and +listened, and swallowed hard to keep the whine of eagerness out of his +throat. Now that he was alone every instinct in him was keyed to the +pulse and beat of life about him. He knew the Night People of the +deep forests were awake. Softly padded, clawed, sharp-beaked and +feathered--the prowlers of darkness were on the move. With the stillness +of shadows they were stealing through the moonlit corridors of the +wilderness, or hovering gray-winged and ghostly in the ambuscades of the +treetops, eager to waylay and kill, hungering for the flesh and blood +of creatures weaker than themselves. Peter knew. Both heritage and +experience warned him. And he watched the shadows, and sniffed the air, +and kept his fangs half bared and ready as he followed the trail of +McKay. + +He was not stirred by the impulse of adventure alone. Without the +finesse of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he had +sensed a responsibility. It was present in the closely drawn strips +of faded cloth about his neck. It was, in a way, a part of the girl +herself, a part of her flesh and blood, a part of her spirit--something +vital to her and dependent upon him. He was ready to guard it with every +instinct of caution and every ounce of courage there was in him. And +to protect it meant to fight. That was the first law of his breed, +the primal warning which came to him through the red blood of many +generations of wilderness forefathers. So he listened, and he watched, +and his blood pounded hot in his veins as he followed the footprints in +the trail. A bit of brush, swinging suddenly free from where it had been +prisoned by the storm, drew a snarl from him as he faced the sound with +the quickness of a cat. A gray streak, passing swiftly over the trail +ahead of him, stirred a low growl in his throat. It was a lynx, and for +a space Peter paused, and then sped soft-footed past the moon-lit spot +where the stiletto-clawed menace of the woods had passed. + +Now that he was alone, and no longer accompanied by a human presence +whose footsteps and scent held the wild things aloof and still, Peter +felt nearer and nearer to him the beat and stir of life. Powerful beaks, +instead of remaining closed and without sound, snapped and hissed at +him as the big gray owls watched his passing. He heard the rustling of +brush, soft as the stir of a woman's dress, where living things were +secretly moving, and he heard the louder crash of clumsy and piggish +feet, and caught the strong scent of a porcupine as it waddled to its +midnight lunch of poplar bark. Then the trail ended, and Jolly Roger's +scent led into the pathless forest, with its shifting streams and +pools of moonlight, its shadows and black pits of darkness. And +here--now--Peter began his trespass into the strongholds of the People +of the Night. He heard a wolf howl, a cry filled with loneliness, yet +with a shivering death-note in it; he caught the musky, skunkish odor of +a fox that was stalking prey in the face of a whispering breath of wind; +once, in a moment of dead stillness, he listened to the snap of +teeth and the crackle of bones in one of the dark pits, where a +fisher-cat--with eyes that gleamed like coals of fire--was devouring the +warm and bleeding carcass of a mother partridge. And beaks snapped at +him more menacingly as he went on, and gray shapes floated over his +head, and now and then he heard the cries of dying things--the agonized +squeak of a wood-mouse, the cry of a day-bird torn from its sleeping +place by a sinuous, beady-eyed creature of fur and claw, the noisy +screaming of a rabbit swooped upon and pierced to the vitals by one of +the gray-feathered pirates of the air. And then, squarely in the center +of a great pool of moonlight, Peter came upon a monster. It was a bear, +a huge mother bear, with two butter-fat cubs wrestling and rolling in +the moon glow. Peter had never seen a bear. But the mother, who raised +her brown nose suddenly from the cool mold out of which she had been +digging lily-bulbs, had seen dogs. She had seen many dogs, and she had +heard their howl, and she knew that always they traveled with man. +She gave a deep, chesty sniff, and close after that sniff a WHOOF that +startled the cubs like the lashing end of a whip. They rolled to her, +and with two cuffs of the mother's huge paws they were headed in the +right direction, and all three crashed off into darkness. + +In spite of his swelling heart Peter let out a little yip. It was +a great satisfaction, just at a moment when his nerves were getting +unsteady, to discover that a monster like this one in the moonlight +was anxious to run away from him. And Peter went on, a bit of pride and +jauntiness in his step, his bony tail a little higher. + +A mile farther on, in another yellow pool of the moon, lay the partly +devoured carcass of a fawn. A wolf had killed it, and had fed, and now +two giant owls were rending and tearing in the flesh and bowels of what +the wolf had left. They were Gargantuans of their kind, one a male, the +other a female. Their talons warm in blood, their beaks red, their slow +brains drunk with a ravenous greed, they rose on their great wings in +sullen rage when Peter came suddenly upon them. He had ceased to be +afraid of owls. There was something shivery in the gritting of their +beaks, especially in the dark places, but they had never attacked him, +and had always kept out of his reach. So their presence in a black +spruce top directly over the dead fawn did not hold him back now. He +sniffed at the fresh, sweet meat, and hunger all at once possessed him. +Where the wolf had stripped open a tender flank he began to eat, and +as he ate he growled, so that warning of his possessorship reached the +spruce top. + +In answer to it came a stir of wings, and the male owl launched himself +out into the moon glow. The female followed. For a few moments they +floated like gray ghosts over Peter, silent as the night shadows. Then, +with the suddenness and speed of a bolt from a catapult, the giant male +shot out of a silvery mist of gloom and struck Peter. The two rolled +over the carcass of the fawn, and for a space Peter was dazed by the +thundering beat of powerful wings, and the hammering of the owl's beak +at the back of his neck. The male had missed his claw-hold, and driven +by rage and ferocity, fought to impale his victim from the ground, +without launching himself into the air again. Swiftly he struck, again +and again, while his wings beat like clubs. Suddenly his talons sank +into the cloth wrapped about Peter's neck. Terror and shock gave way to +a fighting madness inside Peter now. He struck up, and buried his fangs +in a mass of feathers so thick he could not feel the flesh. He tore at +the padded breast, snarling and beating with his feet, and then, as +the stiletto-points of the owl's talons sank through the cloth into his +neck, his jaws closed on one of the huge bird's legs. His teeth sank +deep, there was a snapping and grinding of tendon and bone, and a +hissing squawk of pain and fear came from above him as the owl made a +mighty effort to launch himself free. As the five-foot pinions beat +the air Peter was lifted from the ground. But the owl's talons were +hopelessly entangled in the cloth, and the two fell in a heap again. +Peter scarcely sensed what happened after that, except that he was +struggling against death. He closed his eyes, and the leg between his +jaws was broken and twisted into pulp. The wings beat about him in a +deafening thunder, and the owl's beak tore at his flesh, until the pool +of moonlight in which they fought was red with blood. At last something +gave way. There was a ghastly cry that was like the cry of neither bird +nor beast, a weak flutter of wings, and Gargantua of the Air staggered +up into the treetops and fell with a crash among the thick boughs of the +spruce. + +Peter raised himself weakly, the severed leg of the owl dropping from +his jaws. He was half blinded. Every muscle in his body seemed to be +torn and bleeding, yet in his discomfort the thrilling conviction came +to him that he had won. He tensed himself for another attack, hugging +the ground closely as he watched and waited, but no attack came. He +could hear the flutter and wheeze of his maimed adversary, and slowly he +drew himself back--still facing the scene of battle--until in a farther +patch of gloom he turned once more to his business of following the +trail of Jolly Roger McKay. + +There was no mark of bravado in his advance now. If he had possessed +an over-growing confidence, Gargantua's attack had set it back, and he +stole like a shifty fox through the night. Driven into his brain was the +knowledge that all things were not afraid of him, for even the snapping +beaks and floating gray shapes to which he had paid but little attention +had now become a deadly menace. His egoism had suffered a jolt, +a healthful reaction from its too swift ascendency. He sensed the +narrowness of his escape without the mental action of reasoning it out, +and his injuries were secondary to the oppressive horror of the uncanny +combat out of which he had come alive. Yet this horror was not a fear. +Heretofore he had recognized the ghostly owl-shapes of night more or +less as a curious part of darkness, inspiring neither like nor dislike +in him. Now he hated them, and ever after his fangs gleamed white when +one of them floated over his head. + +He was badly hurt. There were ragged tears in his flank and back, and a +last stroke of Gargantua's talons had stabbed his shoulder to the bone. +Blood dripped from him, and one of his eyes was closing, so that shapes +and shadows were grotesquely dim in the night. Instinct and caution, and +the burning pains in his body, urged him to lie down in a thicket and +wait for the day. But stronger than these were memory of the girl's +urging voice, the vague thrill of the cloth still about his neck, and +the freshness of Jolly Roger's trail as it kept straight on through the +forest's moonlit corridors and caverns of gloom. + +It was in the first graying light of July dawn that Peter dragged +himself up the rough side of a ridge and looked down into a narrow strip +of plain on the other side. Just as Nada had given up in weakness and +despair, so now he was almost ready to quit. He had traveled miles since +the owl fight, and his wounds had stiffened, and with every step gave +him excruciating pain. His injured eye was entirely closed, and there +was a strange, dull ache in the back of his head, where Gargantua had +pounded him with his beak. The strip of valley, half hidden in its +silvery mist of dawn, seemed a long distance away to Peter, and he +dropped on his belly and began to lick his raw shoulder with a feverish +tongue. He was sick and tired, and the futility of going farther +oppressed him. He looked again down into the strip of plain, and whined. + +Then, suddenly, he smelled something that was not the musty fog-mist +that hung between the ridges. It was smoke. Peter's heart beat faster, +and he pulled himself to his feet, and went in its direction. + +Hidden in a little grassy cup between two great boulders that thrust +themselves out from the face of the ridge, he found Jolly Roger. First +he saw the smouldering embers of a fire that was almost out--and then +his master. Jolly Roger was asleep. Storm-beaten and strangely haggard +and gray his face was turned to the sky. Peter did not awaken him. There +was something in his master's face that quieted the low whimper in his +throat. Very gently he crept to him, and lay down. The movement, slight +as it was, made the man stir. His hand rose, and then fell limply across +Peter's body. But the fingers moved. + +Unconsciously, as if guided by the spirit and prayer of the girl waiting +far back in the forest, they twined about the cloth around Peter's +neck--his message to his master. + +And for a long time after that, as the sun rose over a wonderful world, +Peter and his master slept. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the restlessness of Peter that roused Jolly Roger. Half awake, +and before he opened his eyes, life seized upon him where sleep had cut +it off for a time last night. His muscles ached. His neck was stiff. He +seemed weighted like a log to the hard earth. Swiftly the experience +of the preceding hours rushed upon him, and it was in the first of this +wakefulness that he felt the presence of Peter. + +He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the dog. The fact that Peter had +escaped from the cabin, and had followed him, was not altogether +amazing. It was quite the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. But +the unexpectedness of it held McKay speechless, and at first a little +disappointed. It was as if Peter had deliberately betrayed a trust. +During the storm and flight of the night McKay had thought of him as the +one connecting link remaining between him and the girl he loved. He +had left Peter to fill his place, to guard and watch and keep alive +the memory of the man who was gone. For him there had been something of +consolation in this giving up of his comradeship to Nada. And Peter had +turned traitor. + +Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was +passing behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay squatted +on his belly, with his nose straight out on the ground between his +forepaws. It was his attitude of self-immolation. His acknowledgment of +the other's right to strike with lash or club. Yet in his eyes, bright +and steady behind his mop of whiskers, Jolly Roger saw a prayer. + +Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and in +a moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there was +a mighty something that reached from heart to heart of these two, and +Jolly Roger said, with a sound that was half laugh and half sob in his +throat, + +"Pied-Bot, you devil--you little devil--" + +His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart jumped +when he saw what it was--a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, realizing that +at last the importance of his mission was understood, waited in eager +watchfulness while his master untied the knot. And in another moment, +out in the clean and glorious sun that had followed storm, McKay held +the shining tress of Nada's hair. + +It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him crush +the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while strange quivers +ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness that was not rain +gathered in his eyes. + +"God bless her!" he whispered. And then he said, "I wish I was a kid, +Peter--a kid. Because--if I ever wanted to cry--IT'S NOW." + +In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his lips, +Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and looked south, +back over the trail he had followed through the blackness and storm +of night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada in Father John's cabin, +urging Peter out into the wild tumult of thunder and lightning with +that precious part of her which she knew he would love forever. Her +last message to him. Her last promise of love and faith until the end of +time. + +He guessed only the beginning of the truth. And Peter, denied the power +of thought transmission because of an error in the creation of things, +ran back a little way over the trail, trying to tell his master that +Nada had come with him through the storm, and was back in the deep +forest calling for him to return. + +But McKay's mind saw nothing beyond the dimly lighted room of the +Missioner's cabin. + +He pressed his lips to the silken tress of Nada's hair, still damp with +the rain; and after that, with the care of a miser he smoothed it out, +and tied the end of the tress tightly with a string, and put it away in +the soft buckskin wallet which he carried. + +There was a new singing in his heart as he gathered sticks with which to +build a small fire, for after this he would not travel quite alone. + +That day they went on; and day followed day, until August came, and +north--still farther north they went into the illimitable wilderness +which reached out in the drowsing stillness of the Flying-up-Month--the +month when newly fledged things take to their wings, and the deep +forests lie asleep. + +Days added themselves into weeks, until at last they were in the country +of the Reindeer waterways. + +To the east was Hudson's Bay; westward lay the black forests +and twisting waterways of Upper Saskatchewan; and north--always +north--beckoned the lonely plains and unmapped wildernesses of the +Athabasca, the Slave and the Great Bear--toward which far country their +trail was slowly but surely wending its way. + +The woodlands and swamps were now empty of man. Cabin and shack and +Indian tepee were lifeless, and waited in the desolation of abandonment. +No smoke rose in the tree-tops; no howl of dog came with the early dawn +and the setting sun; trap lines were over-growing, and laughter and song +and the ring of the trapper's axe were gone, leaving behind a brooding +silence that seemed to pulse and thrill like a great heart--the heart of +the wild unchained for a space from its human bondage. + +It was the vacation time--the midsummer carnival weeks of the wilderness +people. Wild things were breeding. Fur was not good. Flesh was unfit to +kill. And so they had disappeared, man, woman and child, and their dogs +as well, to foregather at the Hudson's Bay Company's posts scattered +here and there in the fastnesses of the wilderness lands. A few weeks +more and they would return. Cabins would send up their smoke again. +Brown-faced children would play about the tepee door. Ten thousand +dwellers of the forests, white and half-breed and Indian born, would +trickle in twos and threes and family groups back into the age-old trade +of a domain that reached from Hudson's Bay to the western mountains and +from the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. + +Until then nature was free, and in its freedom ran in riotous silence +over the land. These were days when the wolf lay with her young, but did +not howl; when the lynx yawned sleepily, and hunted but little--days +of breeding, nights of drowsy whisperings, and of big red moons, and of +streams rippling softly at lowest ebb while they dreamed of rains and +flood-time. And through it all--through the lazy drone of insects, the +rustling sighs of the tree-tops and the subdued notes of living things +ran a low and tremulous whispering, as if nature had found for itself a +new language in this temporary absence of man. + +To Jolly Roger this was Life, It breathed for him out of the cool earth. +He heard it over him, and under him, and on all sides of him where other +ears would have found only a thing vast and oppressive and silent. On +what he called these "motherhood days of the earth" the passing years +had built his faith and his creed. + +One evening he stopped for camp at the edge of the Burntwood. From his +feet reached out the wide river, ankle deep in places, knee deep in +others, rippling and singing between sandbars and driftwood where in May +and June it had roared with the fury of flood Peter, half asleep after +their day's travel through a hot forests watched his master. Since their +flight from the edge of civilization far south he had grown heavier and +broadened out. The hardship of adventuring and the craft of fighting for +food and life had whipped the last of his puppyhood behind him At six +months of age he was scarred, and lithe-muscled, and ready for instant +action at all times. Through the mop of Airedale whiskers that covered +his face his bright eyes were ever alert, and always they watched the +back-trail as he wondered why the slim, blue-eyed girl they both loved +and missed so much did not come. And vaguely he wondered why it was that +his master always went on and on, and never waited for her to catch up +with them. + +And Jolly Roger was changed. He was not the plump and rosy-faced +wilderness freebooter who whistled and sang away down at Cragg's Ridge +even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness of their +flight had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in his face. But +in his clear eyes was still the love of life--a thing even stronger than +the grief which was eating at his heart as their trail reached steadily +toward the Barren Lands. + +In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes saw his +master draw forth their treasure. + +It was something he had come to look for, and expect--once, twice, and +sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the setting of the +sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight for the day, Jolly +Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. Peter drew nearer to +where his master was sitting with his back to the big rock, and his eyes +glistened. Always he caught the sweet, illusive perfume of the girl when +Jolly Roger drew out their preciously guarded package. He unwrapped it +gently now, and in a moment held in his hands the tress of Nada's hair, +the last of her they would ever possess or see. And Peter wondered again +why they did not go back to where they had left the rest of the girl. +Many times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, Jolly Roger had +tried to make him understand. And Peter tried to comprehend. But always +in his dreams he was with the girl he loved, following her, playing with +her, fighting for her, hearing her voice--feeling the touch of her hand. +In his dog soul he wanted her, just as Jolly Roger wanted her with all +the yearning and heartbreak of the man. Yet always when he awoke from +his dreams they went on again--not south--but north. To Peter this was +hopeless mystery, and he possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor +could he speak in words the message which he carried in his heart--that +last crying agony of the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of +Roger McKay, entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would +always love in spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the world. + +That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his master +crying out Nada's name in his sleep. + +And the next dawn they went on--still farther north. + +In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness about +him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were struggling +to break down the first law of his creed. The law might catch him, +and probably would, and when it caught him the law might hang him--and +probably would. But it would never KNOW him. There was something grimly +and tragically humorous in this. It would never know of the consuming +purity of his worship for little children, and old people--and women. +It would laugh at the religion he had built up for himself, and it +would cackle tauntingly if he dared to say he was not wholly bad. For it +believed he was bad, and it believed he had killed Jed Hawkins, and he +knew that seven hundred men were anxious to get him, dead or alive. + +But was he bad? + +He took the matter up one evening, with Peter. + +"If I'm bad, mebby it isn't all my fault, Pied-Bot," he said. "Mebby +it's this--" and he swept his arms out to the gathering night. "I was +born in the open, on a night just like this is going to be. My mother, +before she died, told me many times how she watched the moon come up +that night, and how it seemed to look down on her, and talk to her, like +a living thing. And I've loved the moon ever since, and the sun, and +everything that's outdoors--and if there's a God I don't believe He ever +intended man to make a law that wasn't right according to the plans He +laid out. That's where I've got in wrong, Pied-Bot, I haven't always +believed in man-made law, and I've settled a lot of things in my own +way. And I guess I've loved trees and flowers and sunshine and wind and +storm too much. I've just wandered. And I've done things along the way. +The thrill of it got into me, Pied-Bot, and--the law wants me!" + +Peter heard the subdued humor of the man, a low laugh that held neither +fear nor regret. + +"It was the Treaty Money first," he went on, leaning very seriously +toward Peter, as if he expected an argument. "You see, Yellow Bird was +in that particular tribe, Pied-Bot. I remember her as she looked to me +when a boy, with her two long, shining black braids and her face that +was almost as beautiful to me as my mother's. My mother loved her, and +she loved my mother, and I loved Yellow Bird, just as a child loves a +fairy. And always Yellow Bird has been my fairy, Peter. I guess child +worship is the one thing that lasts through life, always remaining +ideal, and never forgotten. Years after my mother's death, when I was a +young man, and had been down to Montreal and Ottawa and Quebec, I went +back to Yellow Bird's tribe. And it was starving, Pied-Bot. Starving to +death!" + +Reminiscent tenderness and humor were gone from McKay's voice. It was +hard and flinty. + +"It was winter," he continued, "the dead of winter. And cold. So cold +that even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in. No fish that +autumn, no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were starving. +Pied-Bot, my heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird. There didn't seem +to be anything left of her but her eyes and her hair--those two great, +shining braids, and eyes that were big and deep and dark, like beautiful +pools. Boy, you never saw an Indian--an Indian like Yellow Bird--cry. +They don't cry very much. But when that childhood fairy of mine first +saw me she just stood there, swaying in her weakness, and the tears +filled those big, wide-open eyes and ran down her thin cheeks. She +had married Slim Buck. Two of their three children had died within a +fortnight. Slim Buck was dying of hunger and exhaustion. And Yellow +Bird's heart was broken, and her soul was crying out for God to let her +lie down beside Slim Buck and die with him--when I happened along. + +"Peter--" Jolly Roger leaned over in the thickening dusk, and his eyes +gleamed. "Peter, if there's a God, an' He thinks I did wrong then, let +Him strike me dead right here! I'm willin'. I found out what the trouble +was. There was a new Indian Agent, a cur. And near the tribe was a Free +Trader, another cur. The two got together. The Agent sent up the Treaty +Money, and along with it--underground, mind you--he sent a lot of +whiskey to the Free Trader. Inside of five days the whiskey got the +Treaty Money from the Indians. Then came winter. Everything went bad, +When I came--and found out what had happened--eighteen out of sixty +had died, and inside of another two weeks half the others would follow. +Pied-Bot, away back--somewhere--there must have been a pirate before +me--mebby a great-grandfather of mine. I set out, I came back in three +days, and I had a sledge-load of grub, and warm things to wear--plenty +of them. My God, how those starving things did eat! I went again, and +returned in another week, with a still bigger sledge-load. And Yellow +Bird was getting beautiful again, and Slim Buck was on his feet, growing +strong, and there was happiness--and I think God A'mighty was glad. I +kept it up for two months. Then the back-bone of the winter broke. Game +came into the country I left them well supplied--and skipped. That was +what made me an outlaw, Pied-Bot. That!" + +He chuckled, and Peter heard the rubbing of his hands in the gloom. + +"Want to know why?" he asked. "Well, you see, I went over to the Free +Trader's, and this God the law don't take into account went with me, and +we found the skunk alone. First I licked him until he was almost dead. +Then, sticking a knife into him about half an inch, I made him write +a note saying he was called south suddenly, and authorizing me to take +charge in his absence. Then I chained him in a dugout in a place +where nobody would find him. And I took charge. Pied-Bot, I sure did! +Everybody was on the trap-lines, and I wasn't bothered much by callers. +And I fed and clothed my tribe for eight straight weeks, fed 'em until +they grew fat, Boy--and Yellow Bird's eyes were bright as stars again. +Then I brought Roach--that was his name--back to his empty post, and I +lectured him, an' gave him another licking--and left." + +McKay rose to his feet. The first stars were peeping out of the +velvety darkness of the sky, and Peter heard his master draw in a deep +breath--the breath of a man whose lungs rejoice in the glory of life. + +After a moment he said, + +"And the Royal Mounted have been after me ever since that winter, Peter. +And the harder they've chased me the more I've given them reason to +chase me. I half killed Beaudin, the Government mail-runner, because +he insulted another man's wife when that man--my friend--was away. Then +Beaudin, seeing his chance, robbed the mail himself, and the crime was +laid to me. Well, I got even, and stuck up a mail-sledge myself--but I +guess there was a good reason for it. I've done a lot of things since +then, but I've done it all with my naked fists, and I've never put +a bullet or a knife into a man except Roach the Free Trader. And the +funniest thing of the whole business, Pied-Bot, is this--I didn't kill +Jed Hawkins. Some day mebby I'll tell you about what happened on the +trail, the thing which you and Nada didn't see. But now--" + +For a moment he stood very still, and Peter sensed the sudden thrill +that was going through the man as he stood there in darkness. And then, +suddenly, Jolly Roger bent over him. + +"Peter, there's three women we'll love as long as we live," he +whispered. "There's my mother, and she is dead. There's Nada back there, +and we'll never see her again--" His voice choked for an instant. "And +then--there's Yellow Bird--" he added. "It's five years since I fed the +tribe. Mebby they've had more kids! Boy, let's go and see!" + + + +CHAPTER X + + +North and west, in the direction of Yellow Bird's people, went Jolly +Roger and Peter after that night. They traveled slowly and cautiously, +and with each day Peter came to understand more clearly there was +some reason why they must be constantly on their guard. His master, +he noticed, was thrillingly attentive whenever a sound came to their +ears--perhaps the cracking of a twig, a mysterious movement of brush, or +the tread of a cloven hoof. And instinctively he came to know they were +evading Man. He remembered vividly their escape from Cassidy and their +quiet hiding for many days in the mass of sun-baked rocks which Jolly +Roger had called the Stew-Kettle. The same vigilance seemed to be a part +of his master's movements now. He did not laugh, or sing, or whistle, or +talk loudly. He built fires so small that at first Peter was absorbed +in an almost scientific analysis of them; and instead of shooting +game which could have been easily secured he set little snares in the +evening, and caught fish in the streams. At night they always slept +half a mile or more from the place where they had built their tiny +supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep Peter was ready to rouse +himself at the slightest sound of movement near them. Scarcely a night +passed that his low growl of warning did not bring Jolly Roger out of +his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open. + +Whether he would have used the gun had the red-coated police suddenly +appeared, McKay had not quite assured himself. Day after day the same +old fight went on within him. He analyzed his situation from every point +of view, and always--no matter how he went about it--eventually found +himself face to face with the same definite fact. If the law succeeded +in catching Him it would not trouble itself to punish him for stealing +back the Treaty Money, or for holding up Government mails, or for any of +his other misdemeanors. It would hang him for the murder of Jed Hawkins. +And the minions of the law would laugh at the truth, even if he told +it--which he never would. More than once his imaginative genius had +drawn up a picture of that impossible happening. For it was a truth so +inconceivable that he found the absurdity of it a grimly humorous thing. +Even Nada believed he had killed her scoundrelly foster-father. Yet it +was she--herself--who had killed him! And it was Nada whom the law would +hang, if the truth was known--and believed. + +Frequently he went back over the scenes of that tragic night at Cragg's +Ridge when all the happiness in the world seemed to be offering itself +to him--the night when Nada was to go with him to the Missioner's, +to become his wife, And then--the dark trail--the disheveled girl +staggering to him through the starlight, and her sobbing story of how +Jed Hawkins had tried to drag her through the forest to Mooney's cabin, +and how--at last--she had saved herself by striking him down with a +stick which she had caught up out of the darkness. Would the police +believe HIM--an outlaw--if he told the rest of the story?--how he had +gone back to give Jed Hawkins the beating of his life, and had found him +dead in the trail, where Nada had struck him down? Would they believe +him if, in a moment of cowardice, he told them that to protect the girl +he loved he had fastened the responsibility of the crime upon himself? +No, they would not. He had made the evidence too complete. The world +would call him a lying yellow-back if he betrayed what had actually +happened on the trail between Cragg's Ridge and Mooney's cabin. + +And this, after all, was the one remaining bit of happiness in Jolly +Roger's heart, the knowledge that he had made the evidence utterly +complete, and that Nada would never know, and the world would never +know--the truth. His love for the blue-eyed girl-woman who had given +her heart and her soul into his keeping, even when she knew he was an +outlaw, was an undying thing, like his love for the mother of years ago. +"It will be easy to die for her," he told Peter, and this, in the end, +was what he knew he was going to do. Thought of the inevitable did not +make him afraid. He was determined to keep his freedom and his life +as long as he could, but he was fatalistic enough, and sufficiently +acquainted with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, to know what the +ultimate of the thing would be. And yet, with tragedy behind him, and a +still grimmer tragedy ahead, the soul of Jolly Roger was not dead or in +utter darkness. In it, waking and sleeping, he enshrined the girl who +had been willing to give up all other things in the world for him, +who had pleaded with him in the last hour of storm down on the edge +of civilization that she be given the privilege of accompanying him +wherever his fate might lead. That he was an outlaw had not destroyed +her faith in him. That he had killed a man--a man unfit to live--had +only drawn her arms more closely about him, and had made her more +completely a part of him. And a thousand times the maddening thought +possessed Jolly Roger--was he wrong, and not right, in refusing to +accept the love and companionship which she had begged him to accept, in +spite of all that had happened and all that might happen? + +Day by day he slowly won for himself, and at last, as they traveled in +the direction of Yellow Bird's country, he crushed the final doubt that +oppressed him, and knew that he was right. In his selfishness he had not +shackled her to an outlaw. He had left her free. Life and hope and other +happiness were ahead of her. He had not destroyed her, and this thought +would strengthen him and leave something of gladness in his heart, +even in that gray dawn when the law would compel him to make his final +sacrifice. + +It is a strange peace which follows grief, a secret happiness no other +soul but one can understand. Out of it excitement and passion have been +burned, and it is then the Great God of things comes more closely into +the possession of his own. And now, as they went westward and north +toward the Wollaston Lake country, this peace possessed Jolly Roger. It +mellowed his world. It was half an ache, half a steady and undying pain, +but it drew Life nearer to him than he had ever known it before. His +love for the sun and the sky, for the trees and flowers and all growing +things of the earth was more worship of the divine than a love for +physical things, and each day he felt it drawing more closely about him +in its comradeship, whispering to him of its might, and of its power to +care for him in the darkest hours of stress that might come. + +He did not travel fast after he had reached the decision to go to Yellow +Bird's people. And he tried to imagine, a great deal of the time, that +Nada was with him. He succeeded in a way that bewildered Peter, for +quite frequently the man talked to someone who was not there. + +The slowness and caution with which they traveled developed Peter's +mental faculties with marvelous swiftness. His master, free of egoism +and prejudice, had placed him on a plane of intimate equality, and Peter +struggled each day to live up a little more to the responsibility of +this intimacy and confidence. Instinct, together with human training, +taught him woodcraft until in many ways he was more clever than his +master. And along with this Jolly Roger slowly but surely impressed upon +him the difference between wanton slaughter and necessary killing. + +"Everything that's got a breath of life must kill--up to a certain +point," Jolly Roger explained to him, repeating the lesson over and +over. "And that isn't wrong, Peter. The sin is in killing when you +don't have to. See that tree over there, with a vine as big as my wrist +winding around it, like a snake? Well, that vine is choking the life out +of the tree, and in time the tree will die. But the vine is doing just +what God A'mighty meant it to do. It needs a tree to live on. But I'm +going to cut the vine, because I think more of the tree than I do the +vine. That's MY privilege--following my conscience. And we're eating +young partridges tonight, because we had to have something to keep us +alive. It's the necessity of the thing that counts, Peter. Think you can +understand that?" + +It was pretty hard for Peter at first, but he was observant, and his +mind worked quickly. The crime of destroying birdlings in their nest, or +on the ground, was impressed upon him. He began to understand there was +a certain humiliating shame attached to an attack upon a creature weaker +than himself, unless there was a reason for it. He looked chiefly to +his master for decisions in the matter. Snowshoe rabbits, young and half +grown, were very tame in this month of August, and ordinarily he would +have destroyed many of them in a day's travel. But unless Jolly +Roger gave him a signal, or he was hungry, he would pass a snowshoe +unconcernedly. This phase of Peter's development interested Jolly +Roger greatly. The outlaw's philosophy had not been punctured by the +egotistical "I am the only reasoning being" arguments of narrow-gauged +nature scientists. He believed that Peter possessed not only a brain and +super-instinct, but also a very positive reasoning power which he was +helping to develop. And the process was one that fascinated him. When he +was not sleeping, or traveling, or teaching Peter he was usually reading +the wonderful little red volumes of history which he had purloined from +the mail sledge up near the Barren Lands. He knew their contents nearly +by heart. His favorites were the life-stories of Napoleon, Margaret of +Anjou, and Peter the Great, and always when he compared his own +troubles with the difficulties and tragedies over which these people +had triumphed he felt a new courage and inspiration, and faced the world +with better cheer. If Nature was his God and Bible, and Nada his Angel, +these finger-worn little books written by a man half a century dead +were voices out of the past urging him on to his best. Their pages were +filled with the vivid lessons of sacrifice, of courage and achievement, +of loyalty, honor and dishonor--and of the crashing tragedy which comes +always with the last supreme egoism and arrogance of man. He marked the +dividing lines, and applied them to himself. And he told Peter of his +conclusions. He felt a consuming tenderness for the glorious Margaret of +Anjou, and his heart thrilled one day when a voice seemed to whisper to +him out of the printed page that Nada was another Margaret--only more +wonderful because she was not a princess and a queen. + +"The only difference," he explained to Peter, "is that Margaret +sacrificed and fought and died for a king, and our Nada is willing to +do all that for a poor beggar of an outlaw. Which makes Margaret a +second-rater compared with Nada," he added. "For Margaret wanted a +kingdom along with her husband, and Nada would take--just you and me. +And that's where we're pulling some Peter the Great stuff," he tried to +laugh. "We won't let her do it!" + +And so they went on, day after day, toward the Wollaston waterways--the +country of Yellow Bird and her people. + +It was early September when they crossed the Geikie and struck up the +western shore of Wollaston Lake. The first golden tints were ripening in +the canoe-birch leaves, and the tremulous whisper of autumn was in the +rustle of the aspen trees. The poplars were yellowing, the ash were +blood red with fruit, and in cool, dank thickets wild currants were +glossy black and lusciously ripe. It was the season which Jolly Roger +loved most of all, and it was the beginning of Peter's first September. +The days were still hot, but at night there was a bracing something in +the air that stirred the blood, and Peter found a sharp, new note in the +voices of the wild. The wolf howled again in the middle of the night. +The loon forgot his love-sickness, and screamed raucous defiance at the +moon. The big snowshoes were no longer tame, but wary and alert, and the +owls seemed to slink deeper into darkness and watch with more cunning. +And Jolly Roger knew the human masters of the wilderness were returning +from the Posts to their cabins and trap-lines, and he advanced with +still greater caution. And as he went, watching for smoke and listening +for sound, he began to reflect upon the many changes which five +years might have produced among Yellow Bird's people. Possibly other +misfortunes had come, other winters of hunger and pestilence, scattering +and destroying the tribe. It might even be that Yellow Bird was dead. + +For three days he followed slowly the ragged shore of Wollaston +Lake, and foreboding of evil was oppressing him when he came upon the +fish-racks of the Indians. They had been abandoned for many days, for +black bear tracks fairly inundated the place, and Peter saw two of the +bears--fat and unafraid--nosing along the shore where the fish offal had +been thrown. + +It was the next day, in the hour before sunset, that Jolly Roger and +Peter came out on the edge of a shelving beach where Indian children +were playing in the white sand. Among these children, playing and +laughing with them, was a woman. She was tall and slim, with a skirt of +soft buckskin that came only a little below her knees, and two shining +black braids which tossed like velvety ropes when she ran. And she was +running when they first saw her--running away from them, pursued by the +children; and then she twisted suddenly, and came toward them, until +with a startled cry she stopped almost within the reach of Jolly Roger's +hands. Peter was watching. He saw the half frightened look in her face, +then the slow widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake of her +breath. And in that moment Jolly Roger cried out a name. + +"Yellow Bird!" + +He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years had +touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out her hands to +him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and Peter wondered what +it was all about as he cautiously eyed the half dozen brown-faced little +Indian children who had now gathered quietly about them. In another +moment there was an interruption. A girl came through the fringe of +willows behind them. It was as if another Yellow Bird had come to puzzle +Peter--the same slim, graceful little body, the same shining eyes, and +yet she was half a dozen years younger than Nada. For the first time +Peter was looking at Sun Cloud, the daughter of Yellow Bird. And in that +moment he loved her, just as something gave him confidence and faith in +the starry-eyed woman whose hands were in his master's. Then Yellow Bird +called, and the girl went to her mother, and Jolly Roger hugged her in +his arms and kissed her on the scarlet mouth she turned up to him. +Then they hurried along the shore toward the fishing camp, the children +racing ahead to tell the news, led by Sun Cloud--with Peter running at +her heels. + +Never had Peter heard anything from a man's throat like the two yells +that came from Slim Buck, Yellow Bird's husband and chief of the tribe, +after he had greeted Jolly Roger McKay. It was a note harking back to +the old war trails of the Crees, and what followed it that night was +most exciting to Peter. Big fires were built of white driftwood, and +there was singing and dancing, and a great deal of laughter and eating, +and the interminable howling of half a hundred Siwash dogs. Peter did +not like the dogs, but he did no fighting because his love for Sun Cloud +kept him close to the touch of her little brown hand. + +That night, in the glow of the big fire outside of Slim Buck's tepee, +Jolly Roger's heart thrilled with a pleasure which it had not known for +a long time. He loved to look at Yellow Bird. Five years had not changed +her. Her eyes were starry bright. Her teeth were like milk. The color +still came and went in her brown cheeks, even as it did in Sun Cloud's. +All of which, in this heart of a wilderness, meant that she had been +happy and prosperous. And he also loved to look at Sun Cloud, who +possessed all of that rare wildflower beauty sometimes given to the +northern Crees. And it did him good to look at Slim Buck. He was +a splendid mate, and a royal father, and Jolly Roger found himself +strangely happy in their happiness. In the eyes of men and women and +little children he saw that happiness all about him. For three winters +there had been splendid trapping, Slim Buck told him, and this season +they had caught and dried enough fish to carry them through the +following winter, even if black days should come. His people were rich. +They had many warm blankets, and good clothes, and the best of tepees +and guns and sledges, and several treasures besides. Two of these Yellow +Bird and her husband disclosed to Jolly Roger this first night. One of +them was a sewing machine, and the other--a phonograph! And Jolly Roger +listened to "Mother Machree" and "The Rosary" that night as he sat by +Wollaston Lake with six hundred miles of wilderness between him and +Cragg's Ridge. + +Later, when the camp slept, Yellow Bird and Slim Buck and Jolly Roger +still sat beside the red embers of their fire, and Jolly Roger told +of what had happened down at the edge of civilization. It was what +his heart needed, and he left out none of the details. Slim Buck was +listening, but Jolly Roger knew he was talking straight at Yellow Bird, +and that her warm heart was full of understanding. Softly, in that +low Cree voice which is the sweetest of all voices, she asked him many +questions about Nada, and gently her slim fingers caressed the tress of +Nada's hair which he let her take in her hands. And after a long time, +she said. + +"I have given her a name. She is Oo-Mee, the Pigeon." + +Slim Buck started at the strange note in her voice. + +"The Pigeon," he repeated, + +"Yes, Oo-Mee, the Pigeon," Yellow Bird nodded. She was not looking at +them. In the firelight her eyes were glowing pools. Her body had grown +a little tense. Without asking Jolly Roger's permission she placed the +tress of Nada's hair in her bosom. "Oo-Mee, the Pigeon," she said again, +looking far away. "That is her name, because the Pigeon flies fast and +straight and true. Over forests and lakes and worlds the Pigeon flies. +It is tireless. It is swift. It always--flies home." + +Slim Buck rose quietly to his feet. + +"Come," he whispered, looking at Jolly Roger, + +Yellow Bird did not look at them or speak to them, and Slim Buck--with +his hand on Jolly Roger's arm--pulled him gently away. In his eyes was a +little something of fear, and yet along with it a sublime faith. + +"Her spirit will be with Oo-Mee, the Pigeon, tonight," he said in +a voice struck with awe. "It will go to this place which you have +described, and it will live in the body of the girl, and through Yellow +Bird it will tell you tomorrow what has happened, and what is going to +happen." + +In the edge of the shore-willows Jolly Roger stood for a time watching +Yellow Bird as she sat under the stars, motionless as a figure graven +out of stone. He felt a curious tingling at his heart, something +stirring uneasily in his breast, and he stood alone even after Slim +Buck had stretched himself out in the soft sand to sleep. He was not +superstitious. Yet it was equally a part of his philosophy and his creed +to believe in the overwhelming power of the mind. "If you have faith +enough, and think hard enough, you can think anything until it comes +true," he had told himself more than once. And he knew Yellow Bird +possessed that illimitable faith, and that behind her divination lay +generations and centuries of an unbreakable certainty in the power of +mind over matter. He realized his own limitations, but a mysterious +voice in the still night seemed whispering to him that in the crude +wisdom of Yellow Bird's brain lay the secret to strange achievement, +and that on this night her mind might perform for him what he, in his +greater wisdom, would call a miracle. He had seen things like that +happen. And he sat down in the sand, sleepless, and with Peter at his +feet waited for Yellow Bird to stir. + +He could see the dull shimmer of starlight in her hair, but the rest of +her was a shadow that gave no sign of life. The camp was asleep. Even +the dogs were buried in their wallows of sand, and the last red spark of +the fires had died out. The hour passed, and another hour followed, and +the lids of Jolly Roger's eyes grew heavier as the fading stars seemed +to be sinking deeper into infinity. At last he slept, with his back +leaning against a sand-dune the children had made. He dreamed, and was +flying through the air with Yellow Bird. She was traveling swift and +straight, like an arrow, and he had difficulty in keeping up with her, +and at last he cried out for her to wait--that he could go no farther. +The cry roused him. He opened his eyes, and found cool, gray dawn in +the sky. Peter, alert, was muzzling his hand. Slim Buck lay in the sand, +still asleep. There was no stir in the camp. And then, with a sudden +catch in his breath, he looked toward Yellow Bird's tepee. + +Yellow Bird still sat in the sand. Through the hours of fading starlight +and coming dawn she had not moved. Slowly McKay rose to his feet. +When he came to her, making no sound, she looked up. The shimmer of +glistening dew was in her hair. Her long lashes were wet with it. Her +face was very pale, and her eyes so large and dark that for a moment +they startled him. She was tired. Exhaustion was in her slim, limp body. + +A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders swayed a little. + +"Sit down, Neekewa," she whispered, drawing the ropes of her hair about +her as if she were cold. + +Then she drew a slim hand over her eyes, and shivered. + +"It is well, Neekewa," she spoke softly. "I have gone through the clouds +to where lives Oo-Mee, the Pigeon. I found her crying in a trail. I +whispered to her and happiness came, and that happiness is going to +live--for Neekewa and The Pigeon. It cannot die. It cannot be killed. +The Red Coated men of the Great White Father will never destroy it. +You will live. She will live. You will meet again--in happiness. And +happiness will follow ever after. That much I learned, Neekewa. In +happiness--you will meet again." + +"Where? When?" whispered Jolly Roger, his heart beating with sudden +swiftness. + +Again Yellow Bird passed her hand over her eyes, and as she held it +there for a moment she bowed her head until Jolly Roger could see only +her dew-wet hair and she said, + +"In the Country Beyond, Neekewa." + +Her eyes were looking at him again, big, dark and filled with mystery. + +"And where is this country, Yellow Bird?" he asked, a strange chill +driving the warmth out of his heart. "You mean--up there?" And he +pointed to the gray sky above them. + +"No, it is happiness to come in life, not in death," said Yellow Bird +slowly. "It is not beyond the stars. It is--" + +He waited, leaning toward her. + +"In the Country Beyond," she repeated with a tired little droop of her +head. "And where that is I do not know, Neekewa. I could not pass beyond +the great white cloud that shut me out. But it is--somewhere, I will +find it. And then I will tell you--and The Pigeon." + +She stood up, and swayed in the gray light, like one worn out by hard +travel. Then she passed into the tepee, and Jolly Roger heard her fall +on her blanket-bed. + +And still stranger whisperings filled his heart as he faced the east, +where the first red blush of day drove back the star-mists of dawn. He +heard a step in the soft sand, and Slim Buck stood beside him. And he +asked. + +"Did you ever hear of the Country Beyond?" Slim Buck shook his head, and +both looked in silence toward the rising sun. + +Peter was glad when the camp roused itself out of sleep with waking +voices, and laughter, and the building of fires. He waited eagerly for +Sun Cloud. At last she came out of Yellow Bird's tepee, rubbing her eyes +in the face of the glow in the east, and then her white teeth flashed a +smile of welcome at him. Together they ran down to the edge of the +lake, and Peter wagged his tail while Sun Cloud went out knee-deep and +scrubbed her pretty face with handfuls of the cool water. It was a happy +day for him. He was different from the Indian dogs, and Sun Cloud and +her playmates made much of him. But never, even in their most exciting +play, did he entirely lose track of his master. + +Jolly Roger, to an extent, forgot Peter. He tried to deaden within him +the impulses which Yellow Bird's conjuring had roused. He tried to see +in them a menace and a danger, and he repeated to himself the folly +of placing credence in Yellow Bird's "medicine." But his efforts were +futile, and he was honest enough to admit it. The uneasiness was in +his breast. A new hope was rising up. And with that hope were fear and +suspense, for deep in him was growing stronger the conviction that +what Yellow Bird would tell him would be true. He noted the calm and +dignified stiffness with which Slim Buck greeted the day. The young +chief passed quietly among his people. A word traveled in whispers, +voices and footsteps were muffled and before the sun was an hour high +there was no tepee standing but one on that white strip of beach. And +the one tepee was Yellow Bird's, + +Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird come +out into the day. She saw the food placed at her tepee door. She saw +the empty places where the homes of her people had stood, and in the wet +sand of the beach the marks of their missing canoes. Then she turned her +pale face and tired eyes to the sun, and unbraided her hair so that it +streamed glistening all about her and covered the white sand when she +sat down again in front of the smoke-darkened canvas that had become her +conjurer's house. + +Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp. But Slim +Buck and Jolly Roger remained in the cover of a wooded headland only +half a mile from Yellow Bird. They saw her when she came out. They +watched for an hour after she sat down in the sand. And then Slim Buck +grunted, and with a gesture of his hands said they would go. Jolly Roger +protested. It was not safe for Yellow Bird to remain entirely beyond +their protection. There were bears prowling about. And human beasts +occasionally found their way through the wilderness. But Slim Buck's +face was like a bronze carving in its faith and pride. + +"Yellow Bird only goes with the good spirits," he assured Jolly Roger. +"She does not do witchcraft with the bad. And no harm can come while the +good spirits are with her. It is thus she has brought us happiness and +prosperity since the days of the famine, Neekewa!" + +He spoke these words in Cree, and McKay answered him in Cree as they +turned in the direction of the camp. Half way, Sun Cloud came to meet +them, with Peter at her side. She put a brown little hand in Jolly +Roger's. It was quite new and pleasant to be kissed as Jolly Roger had +kissed her, and she held up her mouth to him again. Then she ran ahead, +with Peter yipping foolishly and happily at her moccasined heels. + +And Jolly Roger said, + +"I wish I was your brother, Slim Buck, and Nada was Yellow Bird's +sister--and that I had many like her," and his eyes followed Sun Cloud +with hungry yearning. + +And as he said these words, Yellow Bird sat with bowed head and closed +eyes, with the soft tress of Nada's hair in her hands. It was the +physical union between them, and all that day, and the night that +followed, Yellow Bird held it in her hand or against her breast as she +struggled to send out the soul that was in her on its mission to Oo-Mee +the Pigeon. In darkness she buried the food that was left her, and +stamped on it with her feet. The sacrifice of her body had begun, and +for two days thereafter Jolly Roger and Slim Buck saw no movement of +life about the lone tepee in the sand. + +But the third morning they saw the smoke of a little greenwood fire +rising straight up from in front of it. + +Slim Buck drew in a deep breath. It was the signal fire. + +"She knows," he said, pointing for Jolly Roger to go. "She is calling +you!" + +The tenseness was gone from the bronze muscles of his face. He was +lonely without Yellow Bird, and the signal fire meant she would be with +him again soon. Jolly Roger walked swiftly over the white beach. +Again he tried to tell himself what folly it all was, and that he was +answering the signal-fire only to humor Yellow Bird and Slim Buck. But +words, even spoken half aloud, did not quiet the eager beating of his +heart. + +Not until he was very near did Yellow Bird come out of the tepee. And it +was then Jolly Roger stopped short, a gasp on his lips. She was changed. +Her radiant hair was still down, polished smooth; but her face was +whiter than he had ever seen it, and drawn and pinched almost as in the +days of the famine. For two days and two nights she had taken no food, +and for two days and two nights she had not slept. But there was triumph +in her big, wide-open eyes, and Jolly Roger felt something strange +rising up in his breast. + +Yellow Bird held out her hands toward him. + +"We have been together, The Pigeon and I," she said. "We have slept +in each other's arms, and the warmth of her head has lain against my +breast. I have learned the secrets, Neekewa--all but one. The spirits +will not tell me where lies the Country Beyond. But it is not up +there--beyond the stars. It is not in death, but in life you will find +it. That they have told me. And you must not go back to where The Pigeon +lives, for you will find black desolation there--but always you must +keep on and on, seeking for the Country Beyond. You will find it. And +there also you will find The Pigeon--and happiness. You cannot fail, +Neekewa, yet my heart stings me that I cannot tell you where that +strange country is. But when I came to it gold and silver clouds shut it +in, and I could see nothing, and yet out of it came the singing of birds +and the promise of sweet voices that it shall be found--if you seek +faithfully, Neekewa. I am glad." + +Each word that she spoke in her soft and tremulous Cree was a new +message of hope in the empty heart of Jolly Roger McKay. The world might +laugh. Men might tap their heads and smile. His own voice might argue +and taunt. But deep in his heart he believed. + +Something of the radiance of the new day came into his face, even as it +was returning into Yellow Bird's. He looked about him--east, west, north +and south--upon the sunlit glory of water and earth, and suddenly he +reached out his arms. + +"I'll find it, Yellow Bird," he cried. "I'll find this place you call +the Country Beyond! And when I do--" + +He turned and took one of Yellow Bird's slim hands in both his own. + +"And when I do, we'll come back to you, Yellow Bird," he said. + +And like a cavalier of old he touched his lips gently to the palm of +Yellow Bird's little brown hand. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird and +Slim Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back to +his own people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in Yellow +Bird's breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces of +the old softened when he came near and spoke to them; little children +followed him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to be +kissed. For the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home. +The northland Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, and +the sun-filled days and the starry nights seemed overflowing with the +promise of all time. Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and +each day Slim Buck urged him to remain with them always. + +But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did not +urge. Each day and night she was watching--and waiting. + +And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass. + +It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it. +This restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body, +still for a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds in +the sky and the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, of +unseen forces chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressive +lifelessness. + +There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as if +in flight. + +There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed. + +In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the +wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness of +death enshrouding it. + +At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was like +oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackened +and seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling the +shore of the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indian +dogs. From them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping of +a jaw, and in the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepees +was the spell of this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of itself. +Men, women and little children twisted and rolled, or lay awake, and +weird and distorted shapes and fancies came in dreams. + +In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the +gray blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud, +tossing on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it lay +across her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with its +silken strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide awake, +she was thinking--thinking as Slim Buck--would never be able to think, +back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and when a +little white boy--the woman's son--had called Yellow Bird "my fairy." + +In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's red +lips parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they were +pleasing days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly in +her mind until the day when the little boy--a man grown--came to save +her tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim Buck +her husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. The +spirits had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept her +still beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, +and Slim Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people were +happy. And all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the gloom +of the sky outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, "the little boy grown +up"--Jolly Roger McKay. + +As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits were +whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster and +her eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to be +accusing her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay had +come in that winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almost +killed, that she and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That was +the beginning, and the thrill of it had got into the blood of Neekewa, +her "little white brother grown up." And now he was out there, alone +with his dog in the night--and the red-coated avengers of the law +were hunting him. They wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the +killing of a man. + +Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid of +Sun Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let the +soul go out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, her +white brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done right to +think of killing. + +Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than he +had already suffered--and that in the Country Beyond he would find +Nada the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did not +disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. But +the unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried to +lift herself to the whisperings above the tepee top. But they were +unintelligible, like many voices mingling, and with them came a dull +fear into her soul. + +She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, and +placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so quietly +that even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. Through the +tepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as if now she +might hear more clearly, and understand. + +For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in the +air, and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there was +no threat of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, with +starlight breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of thunder +or wail of wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to stop its +beating, and her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She began to +understand, and a strange thrill crept into her. The spirits had put a +great burden upon the night so that it might drive sleep from her eyes. +They were warning her. They were telling her of danger, approaching +swiftly, almost impending. And it was peril for the white man who was +sleeping somewhere near. + +Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making no +sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston. + +And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shone +through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in the +gloom. + +Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flat +mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter was +wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bony +body was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, though +he heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of a +fugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent and +velvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. +He, too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this night +of stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless movements +of his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the name which +he had spoken three times in the last five minutes of his sleep. + +It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the old +way, as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his hands +struck the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up. +The sky had cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in that +starlight Jolly Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. At +first he thought it was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raised +to her. Then he saw it was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes looking +at him steadily and strangely as he awakened. + +He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It was +cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenly +her eyes swept from him out into the night. + +"Listen, Neekewa!" + +Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the beating +of her heart. + +"Twice I have heard it," she whispered then. "Neekewa, you must go!" + +"Heard what?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Something--I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And I +saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it all +about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is very +near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?" + +"I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird." + +"And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. "That +sound--as if wood strikes on wood!" + +"The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird." + +She drew her hand away. + +"Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree. "The spirits +have made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloud +twitches and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying out +the name of Nada--Oo-Mee the Pigeon--when I came to you. I know. It is +danger. It is very near. And it is danger for you." + +"And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace were +coming to me, Yellow Bird," reminded Jolly Roger. "The spirits, you +said, promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada again +in that strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spirits +changed their message, because the night is heavy?" + +Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness. + +"No, they have not changed," she whispered. "They have spoken the truth. +They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. They +have tried to tell me where lies this place they call the Country +Beyond--where you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud always +comes between. And they are trying to tell me what the danger is off +there--in the darkness." Suddenly she caught his arm. "Nee-kewa, DID YOU +HEAR?" + +"A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird." + +He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw +Peter's muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake. + +"What is it, Pied-Bot?" he asked. + +Peter whimpered again. + +Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm. + +"Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me--the +red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a night +like this." + +"They are coming," she replied. "I cannot hear or see, but they are +coming!" + +Her fingers tightened. + +"And they are near," she cried softly. + +"You are nervous, Yellow Bird," he said, thinking of the two days and +three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor taken +food, that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. "There +is no danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you." + +"It has warned me," she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue at +his side. "Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not forgotten +that winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine and +sickness--when I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes even in +sleep, fearing she would never open them again. They have not forgotten +how all that winter you robbed the white people over on the Des Chenes, +that we might live. If they remember those things, and lie, I would not +be afraid to curse them. But they do not lie." + +Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange +something was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. She +did not look at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow notes +of a bird, she was saying: + +"You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again for +a long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must believe. +Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The spirits +have said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the Pigeon--and +happiness. But if you go back to the place where you left The Pigeon +when you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will find only +blackness and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. If you +disbelieve--" + +She stopped. + +"You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it the +croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water. +IT WAS A PADDLE!" + +In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened. + +"Yes, a paddle," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. +"Probably it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird." + +She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out to +him. Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars, +and for an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips. + +"Goodby, Neekewa," she whispered. + +And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly she +ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out again +with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched as +Yellow Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, and +stood there, waiting for the strange canoe to pass--or come in. It +was approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, but +growing clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it against +the star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. Before the +canoe reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the water and +hailed it. + +A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped like +a shot beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. His +master's hand warned him, and together they slipped back into the +shadows, and from under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth his +pack, and quietly strapped it over his shoulders while he waited and +listened. + +And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly. + +"It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?" + +A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter--looking up--thought +for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphone +of his hands, and called very clearly out into the night. + +"Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?" + +Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific +danger. There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no sound +anywhere. For a few moments a death-like stillness followed Jolly +Roger's words. + +Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the +decisive clearness of a bullet coming from a gun. + +"Yes, this is Cassidy--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, Royal +Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?" + +"Yes, it's me," replied Jolly Roger. "Does the wager still hold, +Cassidy?" + +"It holds." + +There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again. + +"Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!" + +With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger and +Peter had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas. +Cassidy's Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes they +listened for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and last +came Yellow Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in their +excitement. Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, and +suspicious of something that was in her face. He went back to the beach. +There he caught himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp exclamation +from his lips. + +His canoe and outfit were gone! + +Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter as +Yellow Bird ran to her tepee. + +And from the mist of water--far out--came a voice, the voice of Jolly +Roger McKay. + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + +With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog. + +In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy head +close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up thankfully +to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the spirits had +whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still farther away, +her straining ears heard again the cry, + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In Cassidy's canoe, driving himself with steady strokes deeper into the +mystery of the starlit waters of Wollaston, Jolly Roger felt the night +suddenly filled with an exhilarating tonic. Its deadness was gone. Its +weight had lifted. A ripple broke the star gleams where an increasing +breeze touched the surface of the lake. And the thrill of adventure +stirred in his blood. He laughed as he put his skill and strength in the +sweep of his paddle, and for a time the thought that he was an outlaw, +and in losing Nada had lost everything in life worth righting for, was +not so oppressive. It was the old, joyous laugh, stirred by his sense of +humor, and the trick he had played on Cassidy. He could imagine Cassidy +back on the shore, his temper redder than his hair as he cursed and tore +up the sand in his search for another canoe. + +"We're inseparable," Jolly Roger explained to Peter. "Wherever I go, +Cassidy is sure to follow. You see, it's this way. A long time +ago someone gave Cassidy what they call an assignment, and in that +assignment it says 'go get Jolly Roger McKay, dead or alive'--or +something to that effect. And Cassidy has been on the job ever since. +But he can't quite catch up with me, Pied-Bot. I'm always a little +ahead." + +And yet, even as he laughed, there was in Jolly Roger's heart a yearning +to which he had never given voice. Half a dozen times he might have +killed Cassidy, and an equal number of times Cassidy might have killed +him. But neither had taken advantage of the opportunity to destroy. +They had played the long and thrilling game like men, and because of the +fairness and sportsmanship of the man who hunted him Jolly Roger thought +of Cassidy as he might have thought of a brother, and more than once he +yearned to go to him, and hold out his hand in friendship. Yet he knew +Corporal Cassidy was the deadliest menace the earth held for him, +a menace that had followed him like a shadow through months and +years--across the Barren Lands, along the rim of the Arctic, down the +Mackenzie, and back again--a menace that never tired, and was never +far behind in that ten thousand miles of wilderness they had covered. +Together in the bloodstirring game of One against One they had faced the +deadliest perils of the northland. They had gone hungry, and cold, and +more than once a thousand miles of nothingness lay behind them, and +death seemed preferable to anything that might lie ahead. Yet in that +aloneness, when companionship was more precious than anything else on +earth, neither had cried quits. The game had gone on, Cassidy after his +man--and Jolly Roger McKay fighting for his freedom. + +As he headed his canoe north and east, Jolly Roger thought again of +the wager made weeks ago down at Cragg's Ridge, when he had turned the +tables on Cassidy and when Cassidy had made a solemn oath to resign from +the service if he failed to get his man in their next encounter. He knew +Cassidy would keep his word, and something told him that tonight the +last act in this tragedy of two had begun. He chuckled again as he +pictured the probable course of events on shore. Cassidy, backed by the +law, was demanding another canoe and a necessary outfit of Slim Buck. +Slim Buck, falling back on his tribal dignity, was killing all possible +time in making the preparations. When pursuit was resumed Jolly Roger +would have at least a mile the start of the red-headed nemesis who hung +to his trail. And Wollaston Lake, sixty miles from end to end, and half +as wide, offered plenty of room in which to find safety. + +The rising of the wind, which came from the south and west, was pleasing +to Jolly Roger, and he put less caution and more force into the sweep +of his paddle. For two hours he kept steadily eastward, and then swung a +little north, guiding himself by the stars. With the breaking of dawn he +made out the thickly wooded shore on the opposite side of the lake from +Slim Buck's camp, and before the sun was half an hour high he had drawn +up his canoe at the tip of a headland which gave him a splendid view of +the lake in all directions. + +From this point, comfortably encamped in the cool shadows of a thick +clump of spruce, Jolly Roger and Peter watched all that day for a sign +of their enemy. As far as the eye could reach no movement of human life +appeared on the quiet surface of Wollaston. Not until that hazy hour +between sunset and dusk did he build a fire and cook a meal from the +supplies in Cassidy's pack, for he knew smoke could be discerned much +farther than a canoe. Yet even as he observed this caution he was +confident there was no longer any danger in returning to Yellow Bird and +her people. + +"You see, Pied-Bot," he said, discussing the matter with Peter, while he +smoked a pipeful of tobacco in the early evening, "Cassidy thinks we're +on our way north, as fast as we can go. He'll hit for the upper end +of the Lake and the Black River waterway, and keep right on into the +Porcupine country. It's a big country up there, and we've always taken +plenty of space for our travels. Shall we go back to Yellow Bird, Peter? +And Sun Cloud?" + +Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked the +questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He wanted +to go back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged by a great +loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his loss of Nada, and +understood how empty life had become for him. She had, in a way, become +a part of Nada; her presence raised him out of despair, her voice gave +him hope, her unconquerable spirit--fighting for his happiness--inspired +him until he saw light where there had been only darkness. The impelling +desire to return to her brought him to his feet and down to the pebbly +shore of the lake, where the water rippled softly in the thickening +gloom. But a still more powerful force held him back, and he went to his +blankets, spread over a thick couch of balsam boughs. For hours his eyes +were wide open and sleepless. + +He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt--a charitable +inclination to half believe--gave way in him to a conviction which he +could not fight down. More than once in his years of wilderness life +strange facts had compelled him to give some credence to the power of +the Indian conjurer. Belief in the mastery of the mind was part of his +faith in nature. It had come to him from his mother, who had lived and +died in the strength of her creed. + +"Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true," she had +told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it possible she +had told him the truth? Had her mind actually communed with the mind +of Nada? Had she, through the sheer force of her illimitable faith, +projected her subconscious self into the future that she might show him +the way? His eyes were staring, his ears unhearing, as he thought of +the proof which Yellow Bird had given to him. A few hours ago she had +brought him warning of impending danger. There had been no hesitation +and no doubt. She had come to him unequivocal and sure. Without seeing, +without hearing, she knew Cassidy was stealing upon him through the +night. + +In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. Without +effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, Yellow Bird had +given him a test of her power. It had been a spontaneous and unstaged +thing, a woman's heart reaching out for him--as she had promised that it +would. And yet, even as the simplicity and truth of it pressed upon him, +doubt followed with its questions. If, after this, Yellow Bird had told +him to return to Nada as swiftly as he could, he would have believed, +and this night would have seen him on his way. But she had warned him +against this, predicting desolation and grief if he returned. She had +urged him to go on, somewhere, anywhere, seeking for an illusion and an +unreality which the spirits had named, to her as the Country Beyond. +And when he reached this Country Beyond, wherever it might be, he would +possess Nada again, and happiness for all time. After all, there was +something archaically crude in what he was trying to believe, when he +came to analyze it. Yellow Bird possessed her powers, but they were +definitely limited. And to believe beyond those limitations, to ride +upon the wings of superstition and imagination, was sheer savagery. + +Jolly Roger stretched himself upon his blankets again, repeating this +final argument to himself. But as the night drew closer about him, and +his eyes closed, and sleep came, there was a lightness in his heart +which he had not known for many days. He dreamed, and his dream was of +Nada. He was with her again and it seemed, in this dream, that Yellow +Bird was always watching them, and they could not quite get away from +her. They ran through the jackpine openings where the strawberries and +blue violets grew, and he always ran behind Nada, so he could see her +brown curls flying about her. + +But they never could rid themselves of Yellow Bird, no matter how fast +they ran or where they tried to hide. From somewhere Yellow Bird's +dark eyes would look out at them, and finally, laughing at his own +discomfiture, he drew Nada down beside him in a little fen, white and +yellow and blue with wildflowers, and boldly took her head in his arms +and kissed her--with Yellow Bird looking at them from behind a banksian +clump twenty feet away. So real was the kiss, and so real the warm +pressure of Nada's slim arms about his neck that he awoke with a glad +cry--and sat up to find the dawn had come. + +For a few moments he sat stupidly, looking about him as if not quite +believing the unreality of it all. Then with Peter he went down to the +edge of the lake. + +All that day Peter sensed a quiet change in his master. Jolly Roger did +not talk. He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly when he moved +at all, with a set, strange look in his face. He was making his last +big fight against the desire to return to Cragg's Ridge. Yellow Bird's +predictions, and her warning, had no influence with him now. He was +thinking of Nada alone. She was back there, waiting for him, praying for +his return, ready and happy to become a fugitive with him--to accept her +chances of life or death, of happiness or grief, in his company. A dozen +times the determination to return for her almost won. But each time came +the other picture--a vision of ceaseless flight, of hiding, of hunger +and cold and never ending hardship, and at the last, inevitable as the +dawning of another day--prison, and possibly the hangman. + +Not until late that afternoon did Peter see the old Jolly Roger in the +face of his master. And Jolly Roger said: + +"We've made up our mind, Pied-Bot. We can't go back. We'll hit north and +spend the winter along the edge of the Barren Lands. It's the biggest +country I know of, and if Cassidy comes--" + +He shrugged his shoulders grimly. + +In half an hour they had started, with the sun beginning to sink in the +west. + +For two days Jolly Roger and Peter paddled their way slowly up the +eastern shore of Wollaston. That he had correctly analyzed the mental +arguments which would guide Cassidy in his pursuit Jolly Roger had +little doubt. He would keep to the west shore, and up through the +Hatchet Lake and Black River waterways, as his quarry had never failed +to hit straight for the farther north in time of peril. Meanwhile Jolly +Roger had decided to make his way without haste up the east shore +of Wollaston, and paddle north and east through the Du Brochet and +Thiewiaza River waterways. If these courses were followed, each hour +would add to the distance between them, and when the way was safe they +would head straight for the Barren Lands. + +Peter, and only Peter, sensed the glory of that third afternoon when +they paddled slowly ashore close to the shimmering stream of spring +water that was called Limping Moose Creek. The sun was still two hours +high in the west. There was no wind, and Wollaston was like a mirror; +yet in the still air was the clean, cool tang of early autumn, and +shoreward the world reached out in ridges and billows of tinted forests, +with a September haze pulsing softly over them, fleecy as the misty +shower of a lady's powder puff. It was destined to be a memorable +afternoon for Peter, a going down of the sun that he would never forget +as long as he lived. + +Yet there was no warning of the thing impending, and his eyes saw only +the mystery and wonder of the big world, and his ears heard only the +drowsing murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet scents of +cedars and balsams and of flowering and ripening things. Straight ahead, +beyond the white shore line, was a low ridge, and this ridge--where it +was not purple and black with the evergreen--was red with the crimson +blotches of mountain-ash berries, and patches of fire flowers that +glowed like flame in the setting sun. + +From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly the +voice and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A big jay +was screeching over it all, and between the first ridge and the +second--which rose still higher beyond it--a cloud of crows were +circling excitedly over a mother black bear and her half grown cubs +as they feasted on the red ash berries. But Peter could not smell the +bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows were of less interest than +the wonder and mystery of the shore close at hand. + +He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his +master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes. +The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to +Peter. Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a +chaos of loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams. +Love of life was gone out of him. He saw no beauty. The sun had changed. +The sky was different. The bigness of his wilderness no longer thrilled +him, but oppressed him. + +Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the reason +for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so Jolly Roger +had changed for Peter. + +They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter jumped +out. A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the shore ahead of +him. He perked up his angular ears, and then his nose caught a fresh +scent under his feet where a porcupine had left his trail. And he heard +more clearly the raucous tumult of the jay and the musical chattering of +the red squirrels. + +All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and life +thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days ago. He +adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green willows and +the young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers that fringed the +beginning of the forest. It had rained recently here, and the scents +were fresh and sweet. + +He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its luscious black +berries, and began nibbling at them. A gopher, coming to his supper +bush, gave a little squeak of annoyance, and Peter saw the bright eyes +of the midget glaring at him from under a big fern leaf. Peter wagged +his tail, for the savagery of his existence was qualified by that +mellowing sense of humor which had always been a part of his master. He +yipped softly, in a companionable sort of way. + +And then there smote upon his ears a sound which hardened every muscle +in his body. + +"Throw up your hands, McKay!" + +He turned his head. Close to him stood a man. In an instant he had +recognized him. It was the man whose scent he had first discovered down +at Cragg's Ridge, the man from whom his master was always running away, +the man whose voice he had heard again at Yellow Bird's Camp a few +nights ago--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police. + +Twenty paces away stood McKay. His dunnage was on his back, his paddle +in his hand. And Cassidy, smiling grimly, a dangerous humor in his eyes, +was leveling an automatic at his breast. It was, in that instant, a +tableau which no man could ever forget. Cassidy was bareheaded, and the +sun burned hotly in his red hair. And his face was red, and in the pale +blue of his Irish eyes was a fierce joy of achievement. At last, after +months and years, the thrilling game of One against One was at an end. +Cassidy had made the last move, and he was winner. + +For half a minute after the command to throw up his hands McKay did not +move. And Cassidy did not repeat the command, for he sensed the shock +that had fallen upon his adversary, and was charitable enough to give +him time. And then, with something like a deep sigh from between his +lips, Jolly Roger's body sagged. The dunnage dropped from his shoulder +to the sand. The paddle slipped from his hand. Slowly he raised his arms +above his head, and Cassidy laughed softly. + +A few days ago McKay would have grinned back, coolly, good humoredly, +appreciative of the other's craftsmanship even in the hour of his +defeat. But today there was another soul within him. + +His eyes no longer saw the old Cassidy, brave and loyal to his duty, +a chivalrous enemy, the man he had yearned to love as brother loves +brother, even in the hours of sharpest pursuit. In Cassidy he saw now +the hangman himself. The whole world had turned against him, and in this +hour of his greatest despair and hopelessness a bitter fate had turned +up Cassidy to deal him the finishing blow. + +A swift rage burned in him, even as he raised his hands. It swept +through his brain in a blinding inundation. He did not think of the +law, or of death, or of freedom. It was the unfairness of the thing +that filled his soul with the blackness of one last terrible desire +for vengeance. Cassidy's gun, leveled at his breast, meant nothing. A +thousand guns leveled at his breast would have meant nothing. A choking +sound came from his lips, and like a shot his right hand went to his +revolver holster. + +In that last second or two Cassidy had foreseen the impending thing, and +with the movement of the other's hand he cried out: + +"Stop! For God's sake stop--or I shall fire!" + +Even into the soul of Peter there came in that moment the electrical +thrill of something terrific about to happen, of impending death, of +tragedy close at hand. Once, a long time ago, Peter had felt another +moment such as this--when he had buried his fangs in Jed Hawkins' leg to +save Nada. + +In that fraction of a second which carried Peter through space, Corporal +Cassidy's finger was pressing the trigger of his automatic, for McKay's +gun was half out of its holster. He was aiming at the other's shoulder, +somewhere not to kill. + +The shock of Peter's assault came simultaneously with the explosion of +his gun, and McKay heard the hissing spit of the bullet past his ear. +His arm darted out. And as Peter buried his teeth deeper into Cassidy's +leg, he heard a second shot, and knew that it came from his master. +There was no third. Cassidy drooped, and something like a little laugh +came from him--only it was not a laugh. His body sagged, and then +crumpled down, so that the weight of him fell upon Peter. + +For many seconds after that Jolly Roger stood with his gun in his hand, +not a muscle of his body moving, and with something like stupor in +his staring eyes. Peter struggled out from under Cassidy, and looked +inquisitively from his master to the man who lay sprawled out like a +great spider upon the sand. It was then that life seemed to come back +into Jolly Roger's body. His gun fell, as if it was the last thing in +the world to count for anything now, and with a choking cry he ran to +Cassidy and dropped upon his knees beside him. + +"Cassidy--Cassidy--" he cried. "Good God, I didn't mean to do it! +Cassidy, old pal--" + +The agony in his voice stilled the growl in Peter's throat. McKay saw +nothing for a space, as he raised Cassidy's head and shoulders, and +brushed back the mop of red hair. Everything was a blur before his eyes. +He had killed Cassidy. He knew it. He had shot to kill, and not once in +a hundred times did he miss his mark. At last he was what the law wanted +him to be--a murderer. And his victim was Cassidy--the man who had +played him fairly and squarely from beginning to end, the man who had +never taken a mean advantage of him, and who had died there in the white +sand because he had not shot to kill. With sobbing breath he cried out +his grief, and then, looking down, he saw the miracle in Cassidy's face. +The Irishman's eyes were wide open, and there was pain, and also a grin, +about his mouth. + +"I'm glad you're sorry," he said. "I'd hate to have a bad opinion of +you, McKay. But--you're a rotten shot!" + +His body sagged heavily, and the grin slowly left his lips, and a moan +came from between them. He struggled and spoke. + +"It may be--you'll want help, McKay. If you do--there's a cabin half a +mile up the creek. Saw the smoke--heard axe--I don't blame you. +You're a good sport--pretty quick--but--rotten shot! Oh, +Lord--such--rotten--shot--" + +And he tried vainly to grin up into Jolly Roger's face as he became a +lifeless weight in the other's arms. + +Jolly Roger was sobbing. He was sobbing, in a strange, hard man-fashion, +as he tore open Cassidy's shirt and saw the red wound that went clean +through Cassidy's right breast just under the shoulder. And Peter still +heard that strange sound coming from his lips, a moaning as if for +breath, as his master ran and brought up water, and worked over the +fallen man. And then he got under Cassidy, and rose up with him on his +shoulders, and staggered off with him toward the creek. There he found +a path, a narrow foot trail, and not once did he stop with his burden +until he came into a little clearing, out of which Cassidy had seen the +smoke rising. In this clearing was a cabin, and from the cabin came an +old man to meet him--an old man and a girl. + +At first something shot up into Peter's throat, for he thought it was +Nada who came behind the grizzled and white-headed man. There was the +same lithe slimness in her body, the same brown glint in her hair, and +the same--but he saw then that it was not Nada. She was older. She was +a bit taller. And her face was white when she saw the bleeding burden on +Jolly Roger's back. + +"I shot him," panted McKay. "God knows I didn't mean to! I'm afraid--" + +He did not finish giving voice to the fear that Cassidy was dead--or +dying, and for a moment he saw only the big staring eyes of the girl as +the gray-bearded man helped him with his burden. Not until the Irishman +was on a cot in the cabin did he discover how childishly weak he had +become and what a terrific struggle he had made with the weight on +his shoulders. He sank into a chair, while the old trapper worked over +Cassidy. + +He heard the girl call him grandfather. She was no longer frightened, +and she moved like a swift bird about the cabin, getting water and +bandages and pillows, and the sight of fresh blood and of Cassidy's +dead-white face brought a glow of tenderness into her eyes. McKay, +sitting dumbly, saw that her hands were doing twice the work his own +could have accomplished, and not until he heard a low moan from the +wounded man did he come to her side. + +"The bullet went through clean as a whistle," the old man said. "Lucky +you don't use soft nosed bullets, friend." + +A deep sigh came from Cassidy's lips. His eyelids fluttered, and then +slowly his eyes opened. The girl was bending over him, and Cassidy saw +only her face, and the brown sheen of her hair. + +"He'll live?" Jolly Roger said tremulously. + +The older man remained mute. It was Cassidy, turning his head a little, +who answered weakly. + +"Don't worry, McKay. I'll--live." + +Jolly Roger bent over the cot, between Cassidy and the girl. Gently he +took one of the wounded man's hands in both his own. + +"I'm sorry, old man," he whispered. "You won, fair and square. And I +won't go far away. I'll be waiting for you when you get on your feet. I +promise that. I'll wait." + +A wan smile came over Cassidy's lips, and then he moaned again, and his +eyes closed. The girl thrust Jolly Roger back. + +"No--you better not go far, an' you better wait," she said, and there +was an unspoken thing in the dark glow of her eyes that made him think +of Nada on that day when she told him how Jed Hawkins had struck her in +the cabin at Cragg's Ridge. + +That night Jolly Roger made his camp close to the mouth of the Limping +Moose. And for three days thereafter his trail led only between this +camp and the cabin of old Robert Baron and his granddaughter, Giselle. +All this time Cassidy was telling things in a fever. He talked a great +deal about Jolly Roger. And the girl, nursing him night and day, with +scarcely a wink of sleep between, came to believe they had been great +comrades, and had been inseparable for a long time. Even then she +would not let McKay take her place at Cassidy's side. The third day she +started him off for a post sixty miles away to get a fresh supply of +bandages and medicines. + +It was evening, three days later, when Jolly Roger and Peter returned. +The windows of the cabin were brightly lighted, and McKay came up to one +of these windows and looked in. Cassidy was bolstered up in his cot. +He was very much alive, and on the floor at his side, sitting on a +bear rug, was the girl. A lump rose in Jolly Roger's throat. Quietly he +placed the bundle which he had brought from the post close up against +the door, and knocked. When Giselle opened it he had disappeared into +darkness, with Peter at his heels. + +The next morning he found old Robert and said to him: + +"I'm restless, and I'm going to move a little. I'll be back in two +weeks. Tell Cassidy that, will you?" + +Ten minutes later he was paddling up the shore of Wollaston, and for a +week thereafter he haunted the creeks and inlets, always on the move. +Peter saw him growing thinner each day. There was less and less of cheer +in his voice, seldom a smile on his lips, and never did his laugh ring +out as of old. Peter tried to understand, and Jolly Roger talked to him, +but not in the old happy way. + +"We might have finished him, an' got rid of him for good," he said to +Peter one chilly night beside their campfire. "But we couldn't, just +like we couldn't have brought Nada up here with us. And we're going +back. I'm going to keep that promise. We're going back, Peter, if we +hang for it!" + +And Jolly Roger's jaw would set grimly as he measured the time between. + +The tenth day came and he set out for the mouth of the Canoe River. On +the afternoon of the twelfth he paddled slowly into Limping Moose +Creek. Without any reason he looked at his watch when he started for +old Robert's cabin. It was four o'clock. He was two days ahead of his +promise, and there was a bit of satisfaction in that. There was an +odd thumping at his heart. He had faith in Cassidy, a belief that the +Irishman would call their affair a draw, and tell him to take another +chance in the big open. He was the sort of man to live up to the letter +of a wager, when it was honestly made. But, if he didn't-- + +Jolly Roger paused long enough to take the cartridges from his gun. +There would be no more shooting'--on his part. + +The mellow autumn sun was flooding the open door of the cabin when he +came up. He heard laughter. It was Giselle. She was talking, too. And +then he heard a man's voice--and from far off to his right came the +chopping of an axe. Old Robert was at work. Giselle and Cassidy were at +home. + +He stepped up to the door, coughing to give notice of his approach. And +then, suddenly, he stopped, staring thunderstruck at what was happening +within. + +Terence Cassidy was sitting in a big chair. The girl was behind him. Her +white arms were around his neck, her face was bent down, her lips were +kissing him. + +In an instant Cassidy's eyes had caught him. + +"Come in," he cried, so suddenly and so loudly that it startled the +girl. "McKay, come in!" + +Jolly Roger entered, and the girl stood up straight behind Cassidy's +chair, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with the glow of the +sunset. And Terence Cassidy was grinning in that old triumphant way as +he leaned forward in his chair, gripping the arms of it with both hands. + +"McKay, you've lost," he cried. "I'm the winner!" + +In the same moment he took the girl's hand and drew her from behind his +chair. + +"Giselle, do as you said you were going to do. Prove to him that I've +won." + +Slowly she came to Jolly Roger. Her cheeks were like the red of the +sunset. Her eyes were flaming. Her lips were parted. And dumbly he +waited, and wondered, until she stood close to him. Then, swiftly, her +arms were around his neck, and she kissed him. In an instant she was +back on her knees at the wounded man's side, her burning face hidden +against him, and Cassidy was laughing, and holding out both hands to +McKay. + +"McKay, Roger McKay, I want you to meet Mrs. Terence Cassidy, my wife," +he said. And the girl raised her face, so that her shining eyes were on +Jolly Roger. + +Still dumbly he stood where he was. + +"The Missioner from Du Brochet was here yesterday, and married us," he +heard Cassidy saying. "And we've written out my resignation together, +old man. We've both won. I thank God you put that bullet into me down +on the shore, for it's brought me paradise. And here's my hand on it, +McKay--forever and ever!" + +Half an hour later, when McKay stumbled out into the forest trail again, +his eyes were blinded by tears and his heart choked by a new hope as big +as the world itself. Yellow Bird was right, and God must have been with +her that night when her soul went to commune with Nada's. For Yellow +Bird had proved herself again. And now he believed her. + +He believed in the world again. He believed in love and happiness and +the glory of life, and as he went down the narrow trail to his canoe, +with Peter close behind him, his heart was crying out Nada's name and +Yellow Bird's promise that sometime--somewhere--they two would find +happiness together, as Giselle and Terence Cassidy had found it. + +And Peter heard the chopping of the distant axe, and the song of birds, +and the chattering of squirrels--but thrilling his soul most of all was +the voice of his master, the old voice, the glad voice, the voice he had +first learned to love at Cragg's Ridge in the days of blue violets and +red strawberries, when Nada had filled his world. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +McKay still had his mind on a certain stretch of timber that reached out +into the Barren Lands, hundreds of miles farther north. In this hiding +place, three years before, he had built himself a cabin, and had caught +foxes during half the long winter. Not only the cabin, but the foxes, +were drawing him. Necessity was close upon his heels. What little money +he possessed after leaving Cragg's Ridge was exhausted, his supplies +were gone, and his boots and clothes were patched with deer hide. + +In the Snowbird Lake country, a week after he left Cassidy in his +paradise at Wollaston, he fell in with good fortune. Two trappers had +come in from Churchill. One of them was sick, and the other needed help +in the building of their winter cabin. McKay remained with them for ten +days, and when he continued his journey northward his pack was stuffed +with supplies, and he wore new boots and more comfortable clothes. + +It was the middle of October when he found his old cabin, a thousand +miles from Cragg's Ridge. It was as he had left it three years ago. No +one had opened its door since then. The little box stove was waiting +for a fire. Behind it was a pile of wood. On the table were the old tin +dishes, and hanging from babiche cords fastened to the roof timbers, +out of reach of mice and ermine, were blankets and clothing and other +possessions he had left behind him in that winter break-up of what +seemed like ages ago to him. He raised a small section in the floor, and +there were his traps, thickly coated with caribou grease. For half an +hour before he built a fire he sought eagerly for the things he had +concealed here and there. He found oil, and a tin lamp, and candles, +and as darkness of the first night gathered outside a roaring fire sent +sparks up the chimney, and the little cabin's one window glowed with +light, and the battered old coffee pot bubbled and steamed again, as if +rejoicing at his return. + +With the breaking of another day he immediately began preparations for +the season's trapping. In two days' hunting he killed three caribou, his +winter meat. Then he cut wood, and made his strychnine poison baits, and +marked out his trap-lines. + +The first of November brought the chill whisperings of an early winter +through the Northland. Farther south autumn was dying, or dead. The last +of the red ash berries hung shriveled and frost-bitten on naked twigs, +freezing nights were nipping the face of the earth, the voices of the +wilderness were filled with a new note and the winds held warning for +every man and beast between Hudson's Bay and the Great Slave and from +the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. Seven years before there had come +such a winter, and the land had not forgotten it--a winter sudden and +swift, deadly in its unexpectedness, terrific in its cold, bringing +with it such famine and death as the Northland had not known for two +generations. + +But this year there was premonition. Omen of it came with the first +wailing night winds that bore the smell of icebergs from over the black +forests north and west. The moon came up red, and it went down red, and +the sun came up red in the morning. The loon's call died a month ahead +of its time. The wild geese drove steadily south when they should have +been feeding from the Kogatuk to Baffin's Bay, and the beaver built his +walls thick, and anchored his alders and his willows deep so that he +would not starve when the ice grew heavy. East, west, north and south, +in forest and swamp, in the trapper's cabin and the wolf's hiding-place, +was warning of it. Gray rabbits turned white. Moose and caribou began to +herd. The foxes yipped shrilly in the night, and a new hunger and a new +thrill sent the wolves hunting in packs, while the gray geese streaked +southward under the red moon overhead. + +Through this November, and all of December, Jolly Roger and Peter were +busy from two hours before dawn of each day until late at night. The +foxes were plentiful, and McKay was compelled to shorten his lines +and put out fewer baits, and on the tenth of December he set out for a +fur-trading post ninety miles south with two hundred and forty skins. He +had made a toboggan, and a harness for Peter, and pulling together they +made the trip in three days, and on the fourth started for the cabin +again with supplies and something over a thousand dollars in cash. + +Through the weeks of increasing storm and cold that followed, McKay +continued to trap, and early in February he made another trip to the fur +post. + +It was on their return that they were caught in the Black Storm. It will +be a long time before the northland will forget that storm. It was a +storm in which the Sarcees died to a man, woman and child over on the +Dubawnt waterways, and when trees froze solid and split open with the +sharp explosions of high-power guns. In it, all furred and feathered +life and all hoof and horn along the edge of the Barren Lands from +Aberdeen Lake to the Coppermine was swallowed up. It was in this storm +that streams froze solid, and the man who was cautious fastened a +babiche rope about his waist when he went forth from his cabin for wood +or water, so that his wife might help to pull and guide him back through +that blinding avalanche of wind and freezing fury that held a twisted +and broken world in its grip. + +In the country west of Artillery Lake and south of the Theolon River, +Jolly Roger and Peter were compelled to "dig in." They were in a country +where the biggest stick of wood that thrust itself up out of the snow +was no bigger than McKay's thumb; a country of green grass and succulent +moss on which the caribou fed in season, but a hell on earth when arctic +storm howled and screamed across it in winter. + +Piled up against a mass of rock Jolly Roger found a huge snow drift. +This drift was as long as a church and half as high, with its outer +shell blistered and battered to the hardness of rock by wind and sleet. +Through this shell he cut a small door with his knife, and after that +dug out the soft snow from within until he had a room half as big as his +cabin, and so snug and warm after a little with the body heat of himself +and Peter that he could throw off the thick coat which he wore. + +To Peter, in the first night of this storm, it seemed as though all +the people in the world were shrieking and wailing and sobbing in the +blackness outside. Jolly Roger sat smoking his pipe at intervals in the +gloom, though there was little pleasure in smoking a pipe in darkness. +The storm did not oppress him, but filled him with an odd sense of +security and comfort. The wind shrieked and lashed itself about his +snow-dune, but it could not get at him. Its mightiest efforts to destroy +only beat more snow upon him, and made him safer and warmer. In a way, +there was something of humor as well as tragedy in its wild frenzy, and +Peter heard him laugh softly in the darkness. More and more frequently +he had heard that laugh since those warm days of autumn when they had +last met the red-headed man, Terence Cassidy, of the Royal Northwest +Mounted Police, and his master had shot him on the white shore of +Wollaston. + +"You see," said McKay, caressing Peter's hairy neck in the gloom. +"Everything is turning out right for us, and I'm beginning to believe +more and more what Yellow Bird told us, and that in the end we're going +to be happy--somewhere--with Nada. What do you think, Pied-Bot? Shall we +take a chance, and go back to Cragg's Ridge in the spring?" + +Peter wriggled himself in answer, as a wild shriek of wind wailed over +the huge snow-dune. + +Jolly Roger's fingers tightened at Peter's neck. + +"Well, we're going," he said, as though he was telling Peter something +new. "I'm believing Yellow Bird, Pied-Bot. I'm believing her--now. +What she told us was more than fortune-telling. It wasn't just Indian +sorcery. When she shut herself up and starved for those three days and +nights in her little conjurer's house, just for you and me--SOMETHING +HAPPENED. Didn't it? Wouldn't you say something happened?" + +Peter swallowed and his teeth clicked as he gave evidence of +understanding. + +"She told us a lot of truth," went on Jolly Roger, with deep faith in +his voice "And we must believe, Pied-Bot. She told us Cassidy was coming +after us, and he came. She said the spirits promised her the law would +never get us, and we thought it looked bad when Cassidy had us covered +with his gun on the shore at Wollaston. But something more than luck was +with us, and we shot him. Then we brought him back to life and lugged +him to a cabin, and the little stranger girl took him, and nursed him, +and Cassidy fell in love with her--and married her. So Yellow Bird was +right again, Pied-Bot. We've got to believe her. And she says everything +is coming out right for us, and that we are going back to Nada, and be +happy--" + +Jolly Roger's pipe-bowl glowed in the blackness. + +"I'm going to light the alcohol lamp," he said. "We can't sleep. And I +want a good smoke. It isn't fun when you can't see the smoke. Too bad +God forgot to make you so you could use a pipe, Peter. You don't know +what you are missing--in times like these." + +He fumbled in his pack and found the alcohol lamp, which was fresh +filled and screwed tight. Peter heard him working for a moment in the +darkness. Then he struck a match, and the yellow flare of it lighted up +his face. In his joy Peter whined. It was good to see his master. And +then, in another moment, the little lamp was filling their white-walled +refuge with a mellow glow. Jolly Roger's eyes, coming suddenly out +of darkness, were wide and staring. His face was covered with a scrub +beard. But there was something of cheer about him even in this night of +terror outside, and when he had driven his snowshoe into the snow wall, +and had placed the lamp on it, he grinned companionably at Peter. + +Then, with a deep breath of satisfaction, he puffed out clouds of smoke +from his pipe, and stood up to look about their room. + +"Not so bad, is it?" he asked. "We could have a big house here if +we wanted to dig out rooms--eh, Peter? Parlors, and bed-rooms, and a +library--and not a policeman within a million miles of us. That's the +nice part of it, PIED-BOT--none of the Royal Mounties to trouble us. +They would never think of looking for us in the heart of a big snow-dune +out in this God-forsaken barren, would they?" + +The thought was a pleasing one to Jolly Roger. He spread out his +blankets on the snow floor, and sat down on them, facing Peter. + +"We've got 'em beat," he said, a chuckling note of pride in his voice. +"The world is small when it comes to hiding, Pied-Bot, but all the +people in it couldn't find us here--not in a million years. If we could +only find a place as safe as this--where a girl could live--and had Nada +with us--" + +Many times during the past few weeks Peter had seen the light that +flamed up now in his master's eyes. That, and the strange thrill +in Jolly Roger's voice, stirred him more than the words to which he +listened, and tried to understand. + +"And we're GOING to," finished McKay, almost fiercely, his hands +clenching as he leaned toward Peter. "We have made a big mistake, +Pied-Bot, and it has taken us a long time to see it. It will be hard for +us to leave our north country, but that is what we must do. Maybe Yellow +Bird's good spirits meant that when they said we would find happiness +with Nada in a place called The Country Beyond. There are a lot of +'Countries Beyond,' Peter, and as soon as the spring break-up comes +and we can travel without leaving trails behind us we will go back to +Cragg's Ridge and get Nada, and hit for some place where the law won't +expect to find us. There's China, for instance. A lot of yellow people. +But what do we care for color as long as we have her with us? I say--" + +Suddenly he stopped. And Peter's body grew tense. Both faced the round +hole, half filled with softly packed snow, which McKay had cut as a door +into the heart of the big drift. They had grown accustomed to the tumult +of the storm. Its strange wailings and the shrieking voices which at +times seemed borne in the moaning sweep of it no longer sent shivers +of apprehension through Peter. But in that moment when both turned to +listen there came a sound which was not like the other sounds they had +heard. It was a voice--not one of the phantom voices of the screaming +wind, but a voice so real and so near that for a beat or two even Jolly +Roger McKay's heart stood still. It was as if a man, standing just +beyond their snow barricade, had shouted a name. But there came no +second call. The wind lulled, so that for a space there was stillness +outside. + +Jolly Roger laughed a little uneasily. + +"Good thing we don't believe in ghosts, Peter, or we would swear it was +a Loup-Garou smelling us through the wall!" He thumbed the tobacco down +in his pine, and nodded. "Then--there is South America," he said. "They +have everything down there--the biggest rivers in the world, the biggest +mountains, and so much room that even a Loup-Garou couldn't hunt us out. +She will love it, Pied-Bot. But if it happens she likes Africa better, +or Australia, or the South Sea--Now, what the devil was that?" + +Peter had jumped as if stung, and for a moment Jolly Roger sat tense +as a carven Indian. Then he rose to his feet, a look of perplexity and +doubt in his eyes. + +"What was it, Peter? Can the wind shoot a gun--like THAT?" + +Peter was sniffing at the loosely blocked door of their snow-room. +A whimper rose in his throat. He looked up at Jolly Roger, his eyes +glowing fiercely through the mass of Airedale whiskers that covered +his face. He wanted to dig. He wanted to plunge out into the howling +darkness. Slowly McKay beat the ash out of his pipe and placed the pipe +in his pocket. + +"We'll take a look," he said, something repressive in his voice. "But +it isn't reasonable, Peter. It is the wind. There couldn't be a man out +there, and it wasn't a rifle we heard. It is the wind--with the devil +himself behind it!" + +With a few sweeps of his hands and arms he scooped out the loose snow +from the hole. The opening was on the sheltered side of the drift, and +only the whirling eddies of the storm swept about him as he thrust out +his head and shoulders. But over him it was rushing like an avalanche. +He could hear nothing but the moaning advance of it. And he could see +nothing. He held out his hand before his face, and blackness swallowed +it. + +"We have been chased so much that we're what you might call +super-sensitive," he said, pulling himself back and nodding at Peter +in the gray light of the alcohol lamp. "Guess we'd better turn in, boy. +This is a good place to sleep--plenty of fresh air, no mosquitoes or +black flies, and the police so far away that we will soon forget how +they look. If you say so we will have a nip of cold tea and a bite--" + +He did not finish. For a moment the wind had lessened in fury, as if +gathering a deeper breath. And what he heard drew a cry from him this +time, and a sharper whine from Peter. Out of the blackness of the night +had come a woman's voice! In that first instant of shock and amazement +he would have staked his life that what he heard was not a mad outcry of +the night or an illusion of his brain. It was clear--distinct--a woman's +voice coming from out on the Barren, rising above the storm in an agony +of appeal, and dying out quickly until it became a part of the moaning +wind. And then, with equal force, came the absurdity of it to McKay. A +woman! He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and tried to +laugh. A WOMAN--out in that storm--a thousand miles from nowhere! It was +inconceivable. + +The laugh which he forced from his lips was husky and unreal, and there +was a smothering grip of something at his heart. In the ghostly light of +the alcohol lamp his eyes were wide open and staring. + +He looked at Peter. The dog stood stiff-legged before the hole. His body +was trembling. + +"Peter!" + +With a responsive wag of his tail Peter turned his bristling face up to +his master. Many times Jolly Roger had seen that unfailing warning in +his comrade's eyes. THERE WAS SOME ONE OUTSIDE--or Peter's brain, like +his own, was twisted and fooled by the storm! + +Against his reasoning--in the face of the absurdity of it--Jolly Roger +was urged into action. He changed the snowshoe and replaced the alcohol +lamp so that the glow of light could be seen more clearly from the +Barren. Then he went to the hole and crawled through. Peter followed +him. + +As if infuriated by their audacity, the storm lashed itself over the top +of the dune. They could hear the hissing whine of fine hard snow tearing +above their heads like volleys of shot, and the force of the wind +reached them even in their shelter, bringing with it the flinty sting +of the snow-dust. Beyond them the black barren was filled with a dismal +moaning. Looking up, and yet seeing nothing in the darkness, Peter +understood where the weird shriekings and ghostly cries came from. It +was the wind whipping itself up the side and over the top of the dune. + +Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that mighty +force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again one of those +brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a moment, and its +moaning grew less and less, until it was like the sound of giant chariot +wheels receding swiftly over the face of the earth. Then came the +silence--a few seconds of it--while in the north gathered swiftly the +whispering rumble of a still greater force. + +And in this silence came once more a cry--a cry which Jolly Roger McKay +could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the report of a +rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a woman's voice. As +nearly as he could judge it came from dead ahead, out of the chaos of +blackness, and in that direction he shouted an answer. Then he ran out +into the darkness, followed by Peter. Another avalanche of wind gathered +at their heels, driving them on like the crest of a flood. In the first +force of it Jolly Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and in that +moment he saw very faintly the glow of his light at the opening in the +snow dune. A realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of the +light flashed upon him. Again and again he called into the night. After +that, bowing his head in the fury of the storm, he plunged on deeper +into darkness. + +A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into +forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. In the +heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer doubted it. +And the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? Was it possible she +had followed him after his flight, determined to find him, and share his +fate? His heart pounded. Who else, of all the women in the world, +could be following his trail across the Barrens--a thousand miles from +civilization? He began to shout her name. "Nada--Nada--Nada!" And hidden +in the gloom at his side Peter barked. + +Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the alcohol +lamp died out. Jolly Roger did not look back. Blindly he stumbled ahead, +counting his footsteps as he went, and shouting Nada's name. Twice +he thought he heard a reply, and each time the will-o'-the-wisp voice +seemed to be still farther ahead of him. Then, with a fiercer blast of +the wind beating upon his back, he stumbled and fell forward upon his +face. His hand reached out and touched the thing that had tripped him. +It was not snow. His naked fingers clutched in something soft and furry. +It was a man's coat. He could feel buttons, a belt, and the sudden +thrill of a bearded face. + +He stood up. The wind was wailing off over the Barren again, leaving an +instant of stillness about him. And he shouted: + +"Nada--Nada--Nada!" + +An answer came so quickly that it startled him, not one voice, but +two--three--and one of them the shrill agonized cry of a woman. They +came toward him as he continued to shout, until a few feet away he could +make out a gray blur moving through the gloom. He went to it, staggering +under the weight of the man he had found in the snow. The blur was +made up of two men dragging a sledge, and behind the sledge was a third +figure, moaning in the darkness. + +"I found some one in the snow," Jolly Roger shouted. "Here he is--" + +He dropped his burden, and the last of his words were twisted by a fresh +blast of the storm. But the figure behind the sledge had heard, and +Jolly Roger saw her indistinctly at his feet, shielding the man he had +found with her arms and body, and crying out a name which he could not +understand in that howling of the wind. But a thing like cold steel sank +into his heart, and he knew it was not Nada he had found this night on +the Barren. He placed the unconscious man on the sledge, believing he +was dead. The girl was crying out something to him, unintelligible in +the storm, and one of the men shouted in a thick throaty voice which he +could not understand. Jolly Roger felt the weight of him as he staggered +in the wind, fighting to keep his feet, and he knew he was ready to drop +down in the snow and die. + +"It's only a step," he shouted. "Can you make it?" + +His words reached the ears of the others. The girl swayed through the +darkness and gripped his arm. The two men began to tug at the sledge, +and Jolly Roger seized the rope between them, wondering why there were +no dogs, and faced the driving of the storm. It seemed an interminable +time before he saw the faint glow of the alcohol lamp. The last fifty +feet was like struggling against an irresistible hail from machine-guns. +Then came the shelter of the dune. + +One at a time McKay helped to drag them through the hole which he used +for a door. For a space his vision was blurred, and he saw through the +hazy film of storm-blindness the gray faces and heavily coated forms of +those he had rescued. The man he had found in the snow he placed on his +blankets, and the girl fell down upon her knees beside him. It was then +Jolly Roger began to see more clearly. And in that same instant came a +shock as unexpected as the smash of dynamite under his feet. + +The girl had thrown back her parkee, and was sobbing over the man on the +blankets, and calling him father. She was not like Nada. Her hair was in +thick, dark coils, and she was older. She was not pretty--now. Her face +was twisted by the brutal beating of the storm, and her eyes were nearly +closed. But it was the man Jolly Roger stared at, while his heart choked +inside him. He was grizzled and gray-bearded, with military mustaches +and a bald head. He was not dead. His eyes were open, and his blue +lips were struggling to speak to the girl whose blindness kept her from +seeing that he was alive. And the coat which he wore was the regulation +service garment of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police! + +Slowly McKay turned, wiping the film of snow-sweat from his eyes, and +stared at the other two. One of them had sunk down with his back to the +snow wall. He was a much younger man, possibly not over thirty, and +his face was ghastly. The third lay where he had fallen from exhaustion +after crawling through the hole. Both wore service coats, with holsters +at their sides. + +The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise. He sagged +back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay. + +"Dam' fine of you, old man," he mumbled between blistered lips. +"I'm Porter--'N' Division--taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort +Churchill--Tavish and his daughter. Made a hell of a mess of it, haven't +I?" + +He struggled to his knees. + +"There's brandy in our kit. It might help--over there," and he nodded +toward the girl and the gray-bearded man on the blankets. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found the +sledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, and he +saw Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the alcohol lamp, +where he waited to help him with the dunnage. In those seconds he fought +to get a grip on himself. A quarter of an hour ago he had laughed at the +thought of the law. Never had it seemed to be so far away from him, and +never had he been more utterly isolated from the world. His mind was +still a bit dazed by the thing that had happened. The police had not +trailed him. They had not ferreted him out, nor had they stumbled +upon him by accident. It was he who had gone out into the night and +deliberately dragged them in! Of all the trickery fate had played upon +him this was the least to be expected. + +His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the babiche +cordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. "N" Division, he +told himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. He had never heard +of Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the outfit was +evidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very likely +that Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, and +especially of Jolly Roger McKay. This was his one chance. To attempt +an escape through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard. It was +death. + +There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through the +hole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a flask of liquor to +the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at him with eyes +that were widening as the snow-sting left them. Tavish gulped, and his +mittened hand closed on the girl's arm. + +"I'm all right, Jo," he mumbled. "All right--" + +His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug-out. +They were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. Jolly Roger +felt the intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl a swallow of the +brandy, and then passed the flask to Porter. + +"You have saved our lives," said Tavish, in a voice that was clearer. +"I don't just understand how it happened. I remember stumbling in the +darkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind the sledge. Porter +and Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my daughter, was sheltered +under the blankets. After that--" + +He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. He +pointed to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted there was +someone outside, and they had taken a chance by going in search of them. +He was John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm had caught him fifty +miles from his cabin. He was traveling without a dog-sledge, and had +only a pack-outfit. + +Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening to him. +One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the wilderness +man of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a strange sort of +way. And then, as if catching himself, he nodded, and began rubbing his +frosted face with handfuls of snow. + +Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of the +dunnage sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than the +other two. Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes turned to +Jolly Roger. They were large, fine eyes, wide open and clear now. There +was something of splendid strength about her as she smiled at McKay. She +was not of the hysterical sort. He could see that. + +"If we could have some hot soup," she suggested. "May we?" + +There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to express in +words. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind her, and watched +her as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed the cheeks of the +bearded man with snow. + +"There's an alcohol stove in the other pack," said Breault, with his +hard, narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. "By the way, +what did you say your name was?" + +"Cummings--John Cummings." + +Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger felt +stealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup and ate +bannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy fur garment that +enveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. Her eyes were bright, and +in her voice was a tremble of happiness at finding warmth and life where +she had expected death. Porter's friendliness was almost brotherly. He +explained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had deserted them, +stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams and one of +their sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a drift into +which they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth as a +table. They had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because they +expected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in the +storm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought, that +Superintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should have +given up the ghost so easily. + +Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with the +possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet Jolly +Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially attentive. +There was something repressive and mysterious about the man, and the +girl would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he happened +to speak, and the softness of her mouth would harden in an instant. He +understood the significance of her gladness, and of Porter's, for twice +he saw their hands come together, and their fingers entwine. And in +their eyes was something which they could not hide when they looked at +each other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know that Breault +was the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached from Athabasca +Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two thousand-mile +stretch of the Three River Country he was known as Shingoos, the Ferret. + +The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's +shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and breathed +deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at the pale +face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay. + +"She's mine," he whispered. "We're going to be married." + +Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand. + +He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat. + +"I know how you feel," he said. "When I heard her calling out there--it +made me think--of a girl down south." + +"Down south?" queried Porter. "Why down south--if you care for her--and +you up here?" + +McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor +Porter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was +listening. + +Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the storm +had caught his attention. + +"We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm going +to dig out another room--for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll need the +convenience of a private room before we're able to move. It's an easy +job--and passes the time away." + +"I'll help," offered Porter. + +For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. During that +hour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile curled his thin +lips as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last Porter turned in, and +slept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished his +room, and was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door out of +the drift, when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which Porter +had used. + +"I'll take my turn," he said. "I'm a bit nervous, and not at all sleepy, +Cummings." He began digging into the snow. "Been long in this country?" +he asked. + +"Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a silver +and a black." + +Breault grunted. + +"You must have met Cassidy, then," he said casually, without looking at +McKay. "Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country." + +Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging. + +"Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I like +him. You know him?" + +"Entered the service together," said Breault. "But he's unlucky. For +two or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. Jolly +Roger, they call him--Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?" + +Jolly Roger nodded. + +"Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've heard +I--rather like him." + +"Who--Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?" + +"Both." + +For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. They +were mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining half +closed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKay +felt their penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him, +warning him of a menace deadlier than the storm. + +"Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?" + +"No." + +"You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The man +lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that information, +will you?" + +Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel. + +"Yes, I will." + +He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow slits +of Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox. + +"You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for sticking +up that free trader's post a few years ago." + +Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of snow. + +"I'll tell him that, too," he said, chuckling at the obviousness of +the other's trap. "What do you think my cabin is, Breault--a Rest for +Homeless Outlaws?" + +Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger caught it +over his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his load, Breault said: + +"You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the winter +somewhere up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south--" + +Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel. + +"--who would like to see him," finished Breault. + +When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting his +pipe. + +"I remember--Cassidy told me about this girl," said Jolly Roger. "He +said--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the girl. So if I +happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to the girl, it will +help out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is there any reward tacked to +it? Anything in it for me?" + +Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, +puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about his +thin lips. + +"Listen to the storm," he said. "I think it's getting worse--Cummings!" + +Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his bright +eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger. + +"Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--" + +Tight fingers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spoken +Peter's name since the rescue of Breault. + +"Peter--Peter--" + +The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made no +response to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and challenging. +In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his arms. + +The Ferret laughed. + +"He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, and +I also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, if you ever +happen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, with whiskers on +him like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny name for a dog, isn't +it?" + +He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head. + +"I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And--Mother of +Heaven!--listen to the wind." + +"Yes, it's a bad night," said McKay. + +He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was beating +fast. He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over the Barren more +fiercely than before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter into +his eyes. This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meant +death. And Breault knew it. He was in a trap--a trap built by himself. +That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had. There +was only one way out--and that meant fight. + +He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not look +at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. He +left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread +out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a +hole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for +ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust +of snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault. The +Ferret was sitting up, and leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an +arm's length away. He reached over, and touched him on the shoulder. + +Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears to +hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porter +was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly. +Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. Then +Breault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear only +the indistinct monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly the +change that came into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he stared +toward the inner room, making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and the +girl. + +The Ferret stopped him. + +"Don't get excited. Let them sleep." + +McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the two +men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultant +satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. Jolly +Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then he +lightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out in +the darkness until his hand found Peter. + +"They think they've got us, boy," he whispered, "They think they've got +us!" + +Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter was +wide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands and +knees to the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out the +steady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way around +the wall of his room until he came to a place where the snow was very +soft. + +"An air-drift," he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. "We'll +fool 'em, boy. And we'll fight--if we have to." + +He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air-drift like +a gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, heaving his body +up and down and sideways to pack the light snow, leaving a round tunnel +two feet in diameter behind him. Within an hour he had come to the +outer crust on the windward side of the big snow-dune. He did not break +through this crust, which was as tough as crystal-glass, but lay quietly +for a time and listened to the sweep of the wind outside. It was warm, +and very comfortable, and he had half-dozed off before he caught himself +back into wakefulness and returned to his room. The mouth of his tunnel +he packed with snow. After that he wound the blanket about him and gave +himself up calmly to sleep. + +Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly Roger +in what would have been the early dawn outside the snow-dune. McKay felt +his restless movement, and opened his eyes. A faint light was illumining +his room, and he sat up. In the outer room the alcohol lamp was burning +again. He could hear movement, and voices that were very low and +indistinct. Carefully he dug out once more the little hole in the snow +wall, and widened the slit. + +Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and close +beside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and fallen over +her shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her wide-open eyes as +they stared at the door between the two rooms. McKay could see her hand +clasping Porter's arm. Porter was talking, with his face so close to her +bent head that his lips touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger could +understand no word that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering the +exciting secret of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, for +a moment, a shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick, +sibilant whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a finger +at her lips, and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then his +fingers closed about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. McKay +watched the long kiss between them. The girl drew away quickly then, and +Porter tucked the blanket about her when she lay down beside her father. +After that he stretched out again beside Breault. + +Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a bit +nervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the alcohol +lamp. And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her of +the interesting discovery which Breault had made--and to kiss her. McKay +stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer hear the +storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent. + +Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The last +time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, Josephine +Tavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay watched her as she +rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. She bent over Porter and +Breault to make sure they were asleep, and then came straight toward the +door of his room. + +He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped closely +about Peter. + +"Be quiet, boy," he whispered. "Be quiet." + +He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl stood +there, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and before he +closed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward him. In a moment +she was bending over him. He could feel the soft caress of her loose +hair on his face and hands. Then she knelt quietly down beside him, +stroking Peter with her hand, and shook him lightly by the shoulder. + +"Jolly Roger!" she whispered. "Jolly Roger McKay!" + +He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom. + +"Yes," he replied softly. "What is it, Miss Tavish?" + +He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers tightened +at his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, until her hair +cluttered his throat and breast. + +"You are--awake?" + +"Yes." + +"Then--listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must get +away--somewhere. You must go before Breault awakens in the morning. I +think the storm is over--there is no wind--and if you are here when day +comes--" + +Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in the +darkness he found her hand. It clasped his own--firm, warm, thrilling. + +"I thank you for what you have done," she whispered. "But the law--and +Breault--they have no mercy!" + +She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the slit in +the wall until she was with her father again. + +In the gloom he drew Peter close to him. + +"We're up against it again, Pied-Bot," he confided under his breath. +"We've got to take another chance." + +He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was ready, +and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the outer room +then, where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger pantomimed his +desire as she sat up. He wanted something from one of the packs. She +nodded. On his knees he fumbled in the dunnage, and when he rose to +his feet, facing the girl, her eyes opened wide at what he held in his +hand--a small packet of old newspapers her father was taking to the +factor at Fort Churchill. She saw the hungry, apologetic look in his +eyes, and her woman's heart understood. She smiled gently at him, and +her lips formed an unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go. +At the door he looked back. He thought she was beautiful then, with her +shining hair and eyes, and her lips parted, and her hands half reaching +out to him, as if in that moment of parting she was giving him courage +and faith. Suddenly she pressed the palms of her fingers to her mouth +and sent the kiss of benediction to him through the twilight glow of the +snow-room. + +A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close behind +him, there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. Again he was +fleeing from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had predicted in her +sorcery, there were happiness and hope in his going. And always there +was someone to urge him on, and to take a pride in him, like Josephine +Tavish. + +He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and crawled +out into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The sky was heavy +overhead, and the wind had died out. It was the beginning of the brief +lull which came in the second day of the Great Storm. + +McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them. + +"We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied-Bot," he +said. "We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles south." + +He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling straight away +from the first hole he had cut through the shell of the drift. From that +door, made by the outlaw who had saved them, Josephine Tavish watched +the shadowy forms of man and dog until they were lost in the gray-white +chaos of a frozen world. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles southward +from the big dune on the Barren. For a day and a night he made his camp +in the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless tundras reaching to +the Arctic. He believed he was safe, for the unceasing wind and the +blasts of shot-like snow filled his tracks a few moments after they were +made. He struck a straight line for his cabin after that first day and +night in the scrub timber. The storm was still a thing of terrific force +out on the barren, but in the timber he was fairly well sheltered. He +was convinced the police patrol would find his cabin very soon after the +storm had worn itself out. Porter and Tavish did not trouble him. But +from Breault he knew there was no getting away. Breault would nose out +his cabin. And for that reason he was determined to reach it first. + +The second night he did not sleep. His mind was a wild thing--wild as a +Loup-Garou seeking out its ghostly trails; it passed beyond his mastery, +keeping sleep away from him though he was dead tired. It carried him +back over all the steps of his outlawry, visioning for him the score of +times he had escaped, as he was narrowly escaping now; and it pictured +for him, like a creature of inquisition, the tightening net ahead of +him, the final futility of all his effort. And at last, as if moved by +pity to ease his suffering a little, it brought him back vividly to the +green valley, the flowers and the blue skies of Cragg's Ridge--and Nada. + +It was like a dream. At times he could scarcely assure himself that he +had actually lived those weeks and months of happiness down on the edge +of civilization; it seemed impossible that Nada had come like an Angel +into his life down there, and that she had loved him, even when he +confessed himself a fugitive from the law and had entreated him to take +her with him. He closed his eyes and that last roaring night of storm at +Cragg's Ridge was about him again. He was in the little old Missioner's +cabin, with thunder and lightning rending earth and sky outside and Nada +was in his arms, her lips against his, the piteous heartbreak of despair +in her eyes. Then he saw her--a moment later--a crumpled heap down +beside the chair, the disheveled glory of her hair hiding her white face +from him as he hesitated for a single instant before opening the door +and plunging out into the night. + +With a cry he sprang up, dashing the vision from him, and threw fresh +fuel on the fire. And he cried out the same old thought to Peter. + +"It would have been murder for us to bring her, Pied-Bot. It would have +been murder!" + +He looked about him at the swirling chaos outside the rim of light made +by his fire and listened to the moaning of the wind over the treetops. +Beyond the circle of light the dry snow, which crunched like sand under +his feet, was lost in ghostly gloom. It was forty degrees below zero. +And he was glad, even with this sickness of despair in his heart, that +she was not a fugitive with him tonight. + +Yet he built up a little make-believe world for himself as he sat with +a blanket hugged close about him, staring into the fire. In a hundred +different ways he saw her face, a will-o-the-wisp thing amid the flames; +an illusive, very girlish, almost childish face--yet always with the +light of a woman's soul shining in it. That was the miracle which +startled him at last. It seemed as if the fiction he built up in his +despair transformed itself subtly into fact and that her soul had come +to him from out of the southland and was speaking to him with eyes which +never changed or faltered in their adoration, their faith and their +courage. She seemed to come to him, to creep into his arms under the +folds of the blanket and he sensed the soft crush of her hair, the touch +of her lips, the warm encircling of her arms about his neck. Closer to +him pressed the mystery, until the beating of her heart was a living +pulse against him; and then--suddenly, as an irresistible impulse closed +his arms to hold the spirit to him, his eyes were drawn to the heart +of the fire, and he saw there for an instant, wide-eyed and speaking to +him, the face of Yellow Bird the Indian sorceress. The flames crept up +the long braids of her hair, her lips moved, and then she was gone--but +slowly, like a ghost slipping upward into the mist of smoke and night. + +Peter heard his master's cry. And after that Jolly Roger rose up and +threw off the blanket and walked back and forth until his feet trod a +path in the snow. He told himself it was madness to believe, and yet he +believed. Faith fought itself back into that dark citadel of his heart +from which for a time it had been driven. New courage lighted up again +the black chaos of his soul. And at last he fell down on his knees and +gripped Peter's shaggy head between his two hands. + +"Pied-Bot, she said everything would come out right in the end," he +cried, a new note in his voice. "That's what Yellow Bird told us, wasn't +it? Mebby they would have burned her as a witch a long time ago because +she's a sorceress, and says she can send her soul out of her body and +see what we can't see. BUT WE BELIEVE!" His voice choked up, and he +laughed. "They were both here tonight," he added. "Nada--and Yellow +Bird. And I believe--I believe--I know what it means!" + +He stood up again, and Peter saw the old smile on his master's lips as +Jolly Roger looked up into the swirling black canopy of the spruce-tops. +And the wailing of the storm seemed no longer to hold menace and taunt, +but in it he heard the whisper of fierce, strong voices urging upon him +the conviction that had already swept indecision from his heart. + +And then he said, holding out his arms as if encompassing something +which he could not see. + +"Peter, we're going back to Nada!" + +Dawn was a scarcely perceptible thing when it came. Darkness seemed to +fade a little, that was all. Frosty shapes took form in the gloom, +and the spruce-tops became tangible in an abyss of sepulchral shadow +overhead. + +Through this beginning of the barren-land day Jolly Roger set out in the +direction of his cabin and in his blood was that new singing thing of +fire and warmth that more than made up for the hours of sleep he had +lost during the night. The storm was dying out, he thought, and it was +growing warmer; yet the wind whistled and raved in the open spaces and +his thermometer registered the fortieth and a fraction degree below +zero. The air he breathed was softer, he fancied, yet it was still heavy +with the stinging shot of blizzard; and where yesterday he had seen +only the smothering chaos of twisted spruce and piled up snow, there +was now--as the pale day broadened--his old wonderland of savage beauty, +awaiting only a flash of sunlight to transform it into the pure glory of +a thing indescribable. But the sun did not come and Jolly Roger did not +miss it over-much for his heart was full of Nada, and a-thrill with the +inspiration of his home-going. + +"That's what it means, GOING HOME" he said to Peter, who nosed close +in the path of his snowshoes. "There's a thousand miles between us and +Cragg's Ridge, a thousand miles of snow and ice--and hell, mebby. But +we'll make it!" + +He was sure of himself now. It was as if he had come up from out of the +shadow of a great sickness. He had been unwise. He had not reasoned as +a man should reason. The hangman might be waiting for him at Cragg's +Ridge, down on the rim of civilization, but that same grim executioner +was also pursuing close at his heels. He would always be pursuing in the +form of a Breault, a Cassidy, a Tavish, or a Somebody Else of the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police. It would be that way until the end came. And +when the end did come, when they finally got him, the blow would be +easier at Cragg's Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren Land. + +And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that with +Nada he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the sorceress, had +promised for them--that mystery-place of safety and of happiness which +she had called The Country Beyond, where "all would end well." He had +not the faith of Yellow Bird's people; he was not superstitious enough +to believe fully in her sorcery, except that he seized upon it as +a drowning man might grip at a floating sea-weed. Yet was the +under-current of hope so persistent that at times it was near faith. +Up to this hour Yellow Bird's sorcery had brought him nothing but the +truth. For him she had conjured the spirits of her people, and these +spirits, speaking through Yellow Bird's lips, had saved him from Cassidy +at the fishing camp and had performed the miracle on the shore of +Wollaston and had predicted the salvation that had come to him out on +the Barren. And so--was it not conceivable that the other would also +come true? + +But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled through +the hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring himself +physically into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy of her in his +arms once more, the crush of her lips to his, the caress of her hands in +their old sweet way at his face--and to hear her voice, the girl's voice +with the woman's soul behind it, crying out its undying love, as he had +last heard it that night in the Missioner's cabin many months ago. After +this had happened, then--if fate decreed it so--all other things might +end. Breault, the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or that Somebody Else +who was always on his trail. If the game finished thus, he would be +satisfied. + +When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat Jolly +Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter. + +"The big thing we must do is to get there--safely," he said, already +beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then he went on, +building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while he crunched his +luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There was something joyous +and definite in his voice which entered into Peter's blood and body. +There was even a note of excitement in it, and Peter's whiskers bristled +with fresh courage and his eyes gleamed and his tail thumped the snow +comprehendingly. It was like having a master come back to him from the +dead. + +And Jolly Roger even laughed, softly, under his breath. + +"This is February," he said. "We ought to make it late in March. I mean +Cragg's Ridge, Pied-Bot." + +After that they went on, traveling hard to reach their cabin before the +darkness of night, which would drop upon them like a thick blanket at +four o'clock. In these last hours there pressed even more heavily upon +Jolly Roger that growing realization of the vastness and emptiness of +the world. It was as if blindness had dropped from his eyes and he saw +the naked truth at last. Out of this world everything had emptied itself +until it held only Nada. Only she counted. Only she held out her arms to +him, entreating him to keep for her that life in his body which meant +so little in all other ways. He thought of one of the little worn books +which he carried in his shoulder-pack--Jeanne D'Arc. As she had fought, +with the guidance of God, so he believed the blue-eyed girl down at +Cragg's Ridge was fighting for him, and had sent her spirit out in quest +of him. And he was going back to her. GOING! + +The last word, as it came from his lips, meant that nothing would stop +them. He almost shouted it. And Peter answered. + +In spite of their effort, darkness closed in on them. With the first +dusk of this night there came sudden lulls in which the blizzard seemed +to have exhausted itself. Jolly Roger read the signs. By tomorrow there +would be no storm and Breault the Ferret would be on the trail again, +along with Porter and Tavish. + +It was his old craft, his old cunning, that urged him to go on. +Strangely, he prayed for the blizzard not to give up the ghost. +Something must be accomplished before its fury was spent; and he was +glad when after each lull he heard again the moaning and screeching of +it over the open spaces, and the slashing together of spruce tops where +there was cover. In a chaos of gloom they came to the low ridge which +reached across an open sweep of tundra to the finger of shelter where +the cabin was built. An hour later they were at its door. Jolly Roger +opened it and staggered in. For a space he stood leaning against the +wall while his lungs drank in the warmer air. The intake of his breath +made a whistling sound and he was surprised to find himself so near +exhaustion. He heard the thud of Peter's body as it collapsed to the +floor. + +"Tired, Pied-Bot?" + +It was difficult for his storm-beaten lips to speak the words. + +Peter thumped his tail. The rat-tap-tap of it came in one of those lulls +of the storm which Jolly Roger had begun to dread. + +"I hope it keeps up another two hours," he said, wetting his lips to +take the stiffness out of them. "If it doesn't--" + +He was thinking of Breault as he drew off his mittens and fumbled for a +match. It was Breault he feared. The Ferret would find his cabin and his +trail if the storm died out too soon. + +He lighted the tin lamp on his table and after that, assured that +wastefulness would cost him nothing now, he set two bear-drip candles +going, one at each end of the cabin. The illumination filled the single +room. There was little for it to reveal--the table he had made, a chair, +a battered little sheet-iron stove, and the humped up blanket in his +bunk, under which he had stored the remainder of his possessions. Back +of the stove was a pile of dry wood, and in another five minutes the +roar of flames in the chimney mingled with a fresh bluster of the wind +outside. + +Defying the exhaustion of limbs and body, Jolly Roger kept steadily at +work. He threw off his heavier garments as the freezing atmosphere of +the room became warmer, and prepared for a feast. + +"We'll call it Christmas, and have everything we've got, Pied-Bot. +We'll cook a quart of prunes instead of six. No use stinting +ourselves--tonight!" + +Even Peter was amazed at the prodigality of his master. An hour later +they ate, and McKay drank a quart of hot coffee before he was done. Half +of his fatigue was gone and he sat back for a few minutes to finish off +with the luxury of his pipe. Peter, gorged with caribou meat, stretched +himself out to sleep. But his eyes did not close. His master puzzled +him. For after a little Jolly Roger put on his heavy coat and parkee +and pocketed his pipe. After that he slipped the straps of his pack over +head and shoulders and then, even more to Peter's bewilderment, emptied +a quart bottle of kerosene over the pile of dry wood behind the hot +stove. To this he touched a lighted match. His next movement drew from +Peter a startled yelp. With a single thrust of his foot he sent the +stove crashing into the middle of the floor. + +Half an hour later, when Peter and Jolly Roger looked back from the +crest of the ridge, a red pillar of flame lighted up the gloomy chaos of +the unpeopled world they were leaving behind them. The wind was driving +fiercely from the Barren and with it came stinging volleys of the fine +drift-snow. In the teeth of it Roger McKay stared back. + +"It's a good fire," he mumbled in his hood. "Half an hour and it will +be out. There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind keeps up +another two hours--nothing but drift-snow, with no sign of trail or +cabin." + +He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge. Straight south he went, +keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift covered his +snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made. Darkness did not trouble +him now. The open barren was ahead, miles of it, while only a little to +the westward was the shelter of timber. Twice he blundered to the edge +of this timber, but quickly set his course again in the open, with the +wind always quartering at his back. He could only guess how long he kept +on. The time came when he began to count the swing of his snowshoes, +measuring off half a mile, or a mile, and then beginning over again +until at last the achievement of five hundred steps seemed to take an +immeasurable length of time and great effort. Like the ache of a tooth +came the first warning of snowshoe cramp in his legs. In the black night +he grinned. He knew what it meant--a warning as deadly as swimmer's +cramp in deep water. If he continued much longer he would be crawling on +his hands and knees. + +Quickly he turned in the direction of the timber. He had traveled three +hours, he thought, since abandoning his cabin to the flames. Another +half hour, with the caution of slower, shorter steps, brought him to the +timber. Luck was with him and he cried aloud to Peter as he felt himself +in the darkness of a dense cover of spruce and balsam. He freed himself +from his entangled snowshoes and went on deeper into the shelter. It +became warmer and they could feel no longer a breath of the wind. + +He unloaded his pack and drew from it a jackpine torch, dried in his +cabin and heavy with pitch. Shortly the flare of this torch lighted up +their refuge for a dozen paces about them. In the illumination of it, +moving it from place to place, he gathered dry fire wood and with his +axe cut down green spruce for the smouldering back-fire that would last +until morning. By the time the torch had consumed itself the fire was +burning, and where Jolly Roger had scraped away the snow from the thick +carpet of spruce needles underfoot he piled a thick mass of balsam +boughs, and in the center of the bed he buried himself, wrapped warmly +in his blankets, and with Peter snuggled close at his side. + +Through dark hours the green spruce fire burned slowly and steadily. For +a long time there was wailing of wind out in the open. But at last it +died away, and utter stillness filled the world. No life moved in these +hours which followed the giving up of the big storm's last gasping +breath. Slowly the sky cleared. Here and there a star burned through. +But Jolly Roger and Peter, deep in the sleep of exhaustion, knew nothing +of the change. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was Peter who roused Jolly Roger many hours later; Peter nosing about +the still burning embers of the fire, and at last muzzling his master's +face with increasing anxiety. McKay sat up out of his nest of balsam +boughs and blankets and caught the bright glint of sunlight through +the treetops. He rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure. Then he +looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock and peering in the direction of +the open he saw the white edge of it glistening in the unclouded blaze +of a sun. It was the first sun--the first real sun--he had seen for many +days, and with Peter he went to the rim of the barren a hundred yards +distant. He wanted to shout. As far as he could see the white plain was +ablaze with eye-blinding light, and never had the sky at Cragg's Ridge +been clearer than the sky that was over him now. + +He returned to the fire, singing. Back through the months leapt Peter's +memory to the time when his master had sung like that. It was in Indian +Tom's cabin, with Cragg's Ridge just beyond the creek, and it was in +those days before Terence Cassidy had come to drive them to another +hiding place; in the happy days of Nada's visits and of their trysts +under the Ridge, when even the little gray mother mouse lived in a +paradise with her nest of babies in the box on their cabin shelf. He +had almost forgotten but it came back to him now. It was the old Jolly +Roger--the old master come to life again. + +In the clear stillness of the morning one might have heard that shouting +song half a mile away. But McKay was no longer afraid. As the storm +seemed to have cleaned the world so the sun cleared his soul of its last +shadow of doubt. It was not merely an omen or a promise, but for him +proclaimed a certainty. God was with him. Life was with him. His world +was opening its arms to him again--and he sang as if Nada was only a +mile away from him instead of a thousand. + +When he went on, after their breakfast, he laughed at the thought of +Breault discovering their trail. The Ferret would be more than human to +do that after what wind and storm and fire had done for them. + +This first day of their pilgrimage into the southland was a day of glory +from its beginning until the setting of the sun. There was no cloud in +the sky. And it grew warmer, until Jolly Roger flung back the hood of +his parkee and turned up the fur of his cap. That night a million stars +lighted the heaven. + +After this first day and night nothing could break down the hope and +confidence of Jolly Roger and his, dog. Peter knew they were going +south, in which direction lay everything he had ever yearned for; and +each night beside their campfire McKay made a note with pencil and paper +and measured the distance they had come and the distance they had yet +to go. Hope in a little while became certainty. Into his mind urged no +thought of changes that might have taken place at Cragg's Ridge; or, if +the thought did come, it caused him no uneasiness. Now that Jed Hawkins +was dead Nada would be with the little old Missioner in whose care +he had left her, and not for an instant did a doubt cloud the growing +happiness of his anticipations. Breault and the hunters of the law were +the one worry that lay ahead and behind him. If he outwitted them he +would find Nada waiting for him. + +Day after day they kept south and west until they struck the Thelon; and +then through a country unmapped, and at times terrific in its cold +and storm, they fought steadily to the frozen regions of the Dubawnt +waterways. Only once in the first three weeks did they seek human +company. This was at a small Indian camp where Jolly Roger bartered for +caribou meat and moccasins for Peter's feet. Twice between there and +God's Lake they stopped at trappers' cabins. + +It was early in March when they struck the Lost Lake country, three +hundred miles from Cragg's Ridge. + +And here it was, buried under a blind of soft snow, that Peter nosed +out the frozen carcass of a disemboweled buck which Boileau, the French +trapper, had poisoned for wolves. Jolly Roger had built a fire and was +warming half a pint of deer tallow for a baking of bannock, when Peter +dragged himself in, his rear legs already stiffening with the palsy of +strychnine. In a dozen seconds McKay had the warm tallow down Peter's +throat, to the last drop of it; and this he followed with another dose +as quickly as he could heat it, and in the end Peter gave up what he had +eaten. + +Half an hour later Boileau, who was eating his dinner, jumped up in +wonderment when the door of his cabin was suddenly opened by a grim and +white-faced man who carried the limp body of a dog in his arms. + +For a long time after this the shadow of death hung over the Frenchman's +trapping-shack. To Boileau, with his brotherly sympathy and regret that +his poison-bait had brought calamity, Peter was "just dog." But when at +last he saw the strong shoulders of the grim-faced stranger shaking over +Peter's paralyzed body and listened to the sobbing grief that broke in +passionate protest from his white lips, he drew back a little awed. It +seemed for a time that Peter was dead; and in those moments Jolly +Roger put his arms about him and buried his despairing face in Peter's +scraggly neck, calling in a wild fit of anguish for him to come back, to +live, to open his eyes again. Boileau, crossing himself, felt of Peter's +body and McKay heard his voice over him, saying that the dog was not +dead, but that his heart was beating steadily and that he thought +the last stiffening blow of the poison was over. To McKay it was like +bringing the dead back to life. He raised his head and drew away his +arms and knelt beside the bunk stunned and mutely hopeful while Boileau +took his place and began dropping warm condensed milk down Peter's +throat. In a little while Peter's eyes opened and he gave a great sigh. + +Boileau looked up and shrugged his shoulders. + +"That was a good breath, m'sieu," he said. "What is left of the poison +has done its worst. He will live." + +A bit stupidly McKay rose to his feet. He swayed a little, and for the +first time sensed the hot tears that had blinded his eyes and wet his +cheeks. And then there came a sobbing laugh out of his throat and he +went to the window of the Frenchman's shack and stared out into the +white world, seeing nothing. He had stood in the presence of death many +times before but never had that presence choked up his heart as in this +hour when the soul of Peter, his comrade, had stood falteringly for a +space half-way between the living and the dead. + +When he turned from the window Boileau was covering Peter's body with +blankets and a warm bear skin. And for many days thereafter Peter was +nursed through the slow sickness which followed. + +An early spring came this year in the northland. South of the Reindeer +waterway country the snows were disappearing late in March and ice was +rotting the first week in April. Winds came from the south and west and +the sun was warmer and clearer than Boileau had ever known it at the +winter's end in Lost Lake country. It was in this first week of April +that Peter was able to travel, and McKay pointed his trail once more for +Cragg's Ridge. + +He left a part of his winter dunnage at Boileau's shack and went on +light, figuring to reach Cragg's Ridge before the new "goose moon" had +worn itself out in the west. But for a week Peter lagged and until the +darker red in the rims of his eyes cleared away Jolly Roger checked the +impetus of his travel so that the goose moon had faded out and the "frog +moon" of May was in its full before they came down the last slope that +dipped from the Height of Land to the forests and lakes of the lower +country. + +And now, in these days, it seemed to Jolly Roger that a great kindness, +and not tragedy, had delayed him so that his "home coming" was in +the gladness of spring. All about him was the sweetness and mystic +whispering of new life just awakening. It was in the sky and the sun; it +was underfoot, in the fragrance of the mold he trod upon, in the trees +about him, and in the mate-chirping of the birds flocking back from the +southland. His friends the jays were raucous and jaunty again, bullying +and bluffing in the warmth of sunshine; the black glint of crows' wings +flashed across the opens; the wood-sappers and pewees and big-eyed +moose-birds were aflutter with the excitement of home planning; +partridges were feasting on the swelling poplar buds--and then, one +glorious sunset, he heard the chirruping evening song of his first +robin. + +And the next day they would reach Cragg's Ridge! + +Half of that last night he sat up, awake, or smoked in the glow of his +fire, waiting for the dawn. With the first lifting of darkness he was +traveling swiftly ahead of Peter and the morning was only half gone +when he saw far ahead of him the great ridge which shut out Indian Tom's +swamp, and Nada's plain, and Cragg's Ridge beyond it. + +It was noon when he stood at the crest of this. He was breathing hard, +for to reach this last precious height from which he might look upon the +country of Nada's home he had half run up its rock-strewn side. There, +with his lungs gasping for air, his eager eyes shot over the country +below him and for a moment the significance of the thing which he saw +did not strike him. And then in another instant it seemed that his heart +choked up, like a fist suddenly tightened, and stopped its beating. + +Reaching away from him, miles upon miles of it, east, west and +south--was a dead and char-stricken world. + +Up to the foot of the ridge itself had come the devastation of flame, +and where it had swept, months ago, there was now no sign of the +glorious spring that lay behind him. + +He looked for Indian Tom's swamp, and where it had been there was no +longer a swamp but a stricken chaos of ten thousand black stubs, the +shriven corpses of the spruce and cedar and jackpines out of which the +wolves had howled at night. + +He looked for the timber on Sucker Creek where the little old +Missioner's cabin lay, and where he had dreamed that Nada would be +waiting for him. And he saw no timber there but only the littleness and +emptiness of a blackened world. + +And then he looked to Cragg's Ridge, and along the bald crest of it, +naked as death, he saw blackened stubs pointing skyward, painting +desolation against the blue of the heaven beyond. + +A cry came from him, a cry of fear and of horror, for he was looking +upon the fulfilment of Yellow Bird's prediction. He seemed to hear, +whispering softly in his ears, the low, sweet voice of the sorceress, as +on the night when she had told him that if he returned to Cragg's Ridge +he would find a world that had turned black with ruin and that it would +not be there he would ever find Nada. + +After that one sobbing cry he tore like a madman dawn into the valley, +traveling swiftly through the muck of fire and under-foot tangle +with Peter fighting behind him. Half an hour later he stood where the +Missioner's cabin had been and he found only a ruin of ash and logs +burned down to the earth. Where the trail had run there was no longer +a trail. A blight, grim and sickening, lay upon the earth that had been +paradise. + +Peter heard the choking sound in his master's throat and chest. He, too, +sensed the black shadow of tragedy and cautiously he sniffed the +air, knowing that at last they were home--and yet it was not home. +Instinctively he had faced Cragg's Ridge and Jolly Roger, seeing the +dog's stiffened body pointing toward the break beyond which lay Nada's +old home, felt a thrill of hope leap up within him. Possibly the farther +plain had escaped the scourge of fire. If so, Nada would be there, and +the Missioner-- + +He started for the break, a mile away. As he came nearer to it his hope +grew less for he could see where the flames had swept in an inundating +sea along Cragg's Ridge. They passed over the meadow where the thick +young jackpines, the red strawberries and the blue violets had been and +Peter heard the strange sob when they came to the little hollow--the +old trysting place where Nada had first given herself into his master's +arms. And there it was that Peter forgot master and caution and sped +swiftly ahead to the break that cut the Ridge in twain. + +When Jolly Roger came to that break and ran through it he was staggering +from the mad effort he had made. And then, all at once, the last of his +wind came in a cry of gladness. He swayed against a rock and stood there +staring wild-eyed at what was before him. The world was as black ahead +of him as it was behind. But Jed Hawkins' cabin was untouched! The fire +had crept up to its very door and there it had died. + +He went on the remaining hundred yards and before the closed door of +Nada's old home he found Peter standing stiff-legged and strange. He +opened the door and a damp chill touched his face. The cabin was empty. +And the gloom and desolation of a grave filled the place. + +He stepped in, a moaning whisper of the truth coming to his lips. He +heard the scurrying flight of a starved wood-rat, a flutter of loose +papers, and then the silence of death fell about him. The door of Nada's +little room was open and he entered through it. The bed was naked and +there remained only the skeleton of things that had been. + +He moved now like a man numbed by a strange sickness and Peter followed +gloomily and silently in the footsteps of his master. They went outside +and a distance away Jolly Roger saw a thing rising up out of the char of +fire, ugly and foreboding, like the evil spirit of desolation itself. It +was a rude cross made of saplings, up which the flames had licked their +way, searing it grim and black. + +His hands clenched slowly for he knew that under the cross lay the body +of Jed Hawkins, the fiend who had destroyed his world. + +After that he re-entered the cabin and went into Nada's room, closing +the door behind him; and for many minutes thereafter Peter remained +outside guarding the outer door, and hearing no sound or movement from +within. + +When Jolly Roger came out his face was set and white, and he looked +where the thick forest had stood on that stormy night when he ran down +the trail toward Mooney's cabin. There was no forest now. But he found +the old tie-cutters' road, cluttered as it was with the debris of fire, +and he knew when he came to that twist in the trail where long ago Jed +Hawkins had lain dead on his back. Half a mile beyond he came to the +railroad. Here it was that the fire had burned hottest, for as far as +his vision went he could see no sign of life or of forest green alight +in the waning sun. + +And now there fell upon him, along with the desolation of despair, a +something grimmer and more terrible--a thing that was fear. About him +everywhere reached this graveyard of death, leaving no spot untouched. +Was it possible that Nada and the Missioner had not escaped its fury? +The fear settled upon him more heavily as the sun went down and the +gloom of evening came, bringing with it an unpleasant chill and a +cloying odor of things burned dead. + +He did not talk to Peter now. There was a lamp in the cabin and wood +behind the stove, and silently he built a fire and trimmed and lighted +the wick when darkness came. And Peter, as if hiding from the ghosts +of yesterday, slunk into a corner and lay there unmoving and still. +And McKay did not get supper nor did he smoke, but after a long time he +carried his blankets into Nada's room, and spread them out upon her bed. +Then he put out the light and quietly laid himself down where through +the nights of many a month and year Nada had slept in the moon glow. + +The moon was there tonight. The faint glow of it rose in the east and +swiftly it climbed over the ragged shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, flooding +the blackened world with light and filling the room with a soft and +golden radiance. It was a moon undimmed, full and round and yellow; and +it seemed to smile in through the window as if some living spirit in it +had not yet missed Nada, and was embracing her in its glory. And now it +came upon Jolly Roger why she had loved it even more than she had loved +the sun; for through the little window it shut out all the rest of the +world, and sitting up, he seemed to hear her heart beating at his +side and clearly he saw her face in the light of it and her slim arms +out-reaching, as if to gather it to her breast. Thus--many times, she +had told him--had she sat up in her bed to greet the moon and to look +for the smiling face that was almost always there, the face of the Man +in the Moon, her friend and playmate in the sky. + +For a space his heart leapt up; and then, as if discovery of the usurper +in her room had come, a cloud swept over the face of the moon like a +mighty hand and darkness crowded him in. But the cloud sailed on and the +light drove out the gloom again. Then it was that Jolly Roger saw the +Old Man in the Moon was up and awake tonight, for never had he seen his +face more clearly. Often had Nada pointed it out to him in her adorable +faith that the Old Man loved her, telling him how this feature changed +and that feature changed, how sometimes the Old Man looked sick and at +others well, and how there were times when he smiled and was happy and +other times when he was sad and stern and sat there in his castle in the +sky sunk in a mysterious grief which she could not understand. + +"And always I can tell whether I'm going to be glad or sorry by the look +of the Man in the Moon," she had said to him. "He looks down and tells +me even when the clouds are thick and he can only peep through now and +then. And he knows a lot about you, Mister--Jolly Roger--because I've +told him everything." + +Very quietly Jolly Roger got up from the bed and very strange seemed his +manner to Peter as he walked through the outer room and into the night +beyond. There he stood making no sound or movement, like one of the +lifeless stubs left by fire; and Peter looked up, as his master was +looking, trying to make out what it was he saw in the sky. And nothing +was there--nothing that he had not seen many times before; a billion +stars, and the moon riding King among them all, and fleecy clouds as if +made of web, and stillness, a great stillness that was like sleep in the +lap of the world. + +For a little Jolly Roger was silent and then Peter heard him saying, + +"Yellow Bird was right--again. She said we'd find a black world down +here and we've found it. And we're going to find Nada where she told us +we'd find her, in that place she called The Country Beyond--the country +beyond the forests, beyond the tall trees and the big swamps, beyond +everything we've ever known of the wild and open spaces; the country +where God lives in churches on Sunday and where people would laugh at +some of our queer notions, Pied-Bot. It's there we'll find Nada, driven +out by the fire, and waiting for us now in the settlements." + +He spoke with a strange and quiet conviction, the haggard look dying out +of his face as he stared up into the splendor of the sky. + +And then he said. + +"We won't sleep tonight, Peter. We'll travel with the moon." + +Half an hour later, as the lonely figures of man and dog headed for the +first settlement a dozen miles away, there seemed to come for an instant +the flash of a satisfied smile in the face of the Man in the sky. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +From the cabin McKay went first to the great rock that jutted from the +broken shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, and as they stood there Peter heard +the strange something that was like a laugh, and yet was not a laugh, on +his master's lips. But his scraggly face did not look up. There was +an answering whimper in his throat. He had been slow in sensing the +significance of the mysterious thing that had changed his old home since +months ago. During the hours of afternoon, and these moonlit hours that +followed, he tried to understand. He knew this was home. Yet the green +grass was gone, and a million trees had changed into blackened stubs. +The world was no longer shut in by deep forests. And Cragg's Ridge was +naked where he and Nada had romped in sunshine and flowers, and out of +it all rose the mucky death-smell of the flame-swept earth. These things +he understood, in his dog way. But what he could not understand clearly +was why Nada was not in the cabin, and why they did not find her, even +though the world was changed. + +He sat back on his haunches, and Jolly Roger heard again the whimpering +grief in his throat. It comforted the man to know that Peter remembered, +and he was not alone in his desolation. Gently he placed a soot-grimed +hand on his comrade's head. + +"Peter, it was from this rock--right where we're standing now--that I +first saw her, a long time ago," he said, a bit of forced cheer breaking +through the huskiness of his voice. "Remember the little jackpine clump +down there? You climbed up onto her lap, a little know-nothing thing, +and you pawed in her loose curls, and growled so fiercely I could hear +you. And when I made a noise, and she looked up, I thought she was the +most beautiful thing I had ever seen--just a kid, with those eyes like +the flowers, and her hair shining in the sun, an' tear stains on her +cheeks. Tear stains, Pied-Bot--because of that snake who's dead over +there. Remember how you growled at me, Peter?" + +Peter wriggled an answer. + +"That was the beginning," said Jolly Roger, "and this--looks like the +end. But--" + +He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the +grotesque movement of his shadow on the rock. + +"We're going to find her before that end comes," he added defiantly. +"We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us to the +settlements--right up into the face of the law." + +He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the +deadness of the world about them. Again he followed where once had been +the trail that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line of rail +that rambled for eighty miles into the wilderness from Fort William. The +P. D. & W. it was named--Port Arthur, Duluth & Western; but it had +never reached Duluth, and there were those who had nicknamed it Poverty, +Destruction & Want. Many times Jolly Roger had laughed at the queer +stories Nada told him about it; how a wrecking outfit was always carried +behind on the twice-a-week train, and how the crew picked berries in +season, and had their trapping lines, and once chased a bear half way +to Whitefish Lake while the train waited for hours. She called it the +"Cannon Ball," because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine miles +in twenty-four hours. But there was nothing of humor about it as Jolly +Roger and Peter came out upon it tonight. It stretched out both ways +from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from where +they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea. + +Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. And +the whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him, +urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked +for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward. + +But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties +one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and about them, +and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads, +the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For the silver and gold +of the moon and the black muck of the fire refused to mingle, and while +over their heads they could see the tiniest clouds and beyond to the +farthest stars, all was black emptiness when they looked about them upon +what once had been a living earth. Only the two lines of steel caught +the moon-glow and the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs that rose +up out of the earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against the sky. + +To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not hear +or smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed watchfulness +against impending evil. Under many moons he had traveled with his master +in their never-ending flight from the law, and many other nights with +neither moon nor stars had they felt out their trails together. But +always, under him and over him on all sides of him, there had been LIFE. +And tonight there was no life, nor smell of life. There was no chirp of +night bird, or flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry of loon. +He listened in vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the whisper +of wind in treetops. And there was no smell--no musk of mink that had +crossed his path, no taste in the air of the strong scented fox, no +subtle breath of partridge and rabbit and fleshy porcupine. And even +from the far distances there came no sound, no howl of wolf, no castanet +clatter of stout moose horns against bending saplings--not even the howl +of a trapper's dog. + +The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as if +some fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's feet. To +McKay, sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came understanding +that brought with it an uneasiness which changed swiftly into the +chill of a growing fear. The utter lifelessness told him how vast the +destruction of the fire had been. Its obliteration was so great no life +had adventured back into the desolated country, though the conflagration +must have passed in the preceding autumn, many months ago. The burned +country was a grave and the nearest edge of it, judged from the +sepulchral stillness of the night, was many miles away. + +For the first time came the horror of the thought that in such a fire +as this people must have died. It had swept upon them like a tidal wave, +galloping the forests with the speed of a race horse, with only this +thin line of rail leading to the freedom of life outside. In places +only a miracle could have made escape possible. And here, where Nada had +lived, with the pitch-wood forests crowding close, the fire must have +burned most fiercely. In this moment, when fear of the unspeakable set +his heart trembling, his faith fastened itself grimly to the little old +gray Missioner, Father John, in whose cabin Nada had taken refuge many +months ago, when Jed Hawkins lay dead in the trail with his one-eyed +face turned up to the thunder and lightning in the sky. Father John, on +that stormy night when he fled north, had promised to care for Nada, and +in silence he breathed a prayer that the Missioner had saved her from +the red death that had swept like an avalanche upon them. He told +himself it must be so. He cried out the words aloud, and Peter heard +him, and followed closer, so that his head touched his master's leg as +he walked. + +But the fear was there. From a spark it grew into a red-hot spot in +Jolly Roger's heart. Twice in his own life he had raced against death +in a forest fire. But never had he seen a fire like this must have been. +All at once he seemed to hear the roar of it in his ears, the rolling +thunder of the earth as it twisted in the cataclysm of flame, the +hissing shriek of the flaming pitch-tops as they leapt in lightning +fires against the smoke-smothered sky. A few hours ago he had stood +where Father John's Cabin had been and the place was a ruin of char and +ash. If the fire had hemmed them in and they had not escaped-- + +His voice cried out in sudden protest. + +"It can't be, Peter. It can't be! They made the rail--or the lake--and +we'll find them in the settlements. It couldn't happen. God wouldn't let +her die like that!" + +He stopped, and stared into the moon-broken gloom on his left. Something +was there, fifty feet away, that drew him down through the muck which +lay knee deep in the right-of-way ditch. It was what was left of the +cutter's cabin, a clutter of burned logs, a wind scattered heap of +ash. Even there, within arm's reach of the railroad, there had been no +salvation from the fire. + +He waded again through the muck of the ditch, and went on. Mentally +and physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving to achieve +possession of his brain. Over and over he repeated his faith that Nada +and the Missioner had escaped and he would find them in the settlements. +Less than ever he thought of the law in these hours. What happened to +himself was of small importance now, if he could find Nada alive before +the menace caught up with him from behind, or ambushed him ahead. +Yet the necessity of caution impinged itself upon him even in the +recklessness of his determination to find her if he had to walk into the +arms of the law that was hunting him. + +For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed to +turn its face to look at them; and behind them, when they looked back, +the world was transformed into a black pit, while ahead--with the glow +of it streaming over their shoulders--ghostly shapes took form, and +vision reached farther. Twice they caught the silvery gleam of lakes +through the tree-stubs, and again they walked with the rippling murmur +of a stream that kept for a mile within the sound of their ears. But +even here, with water crying out its invitation to life, there was no +life. + +Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster as he +strained his eyes to see ahead. Somewhere near, within a mile or two, +was the first settlement with its sawmill and its bunkhouses, its one +store and its few cabins, with flat mountains of sawdust on one side +of it, and the evergreen forest creeping up to its doors on the other. +Surely they would find life here, where there had been man power to hold +fire back from the clearing. And it was here he might find Nada and +the Missioner, for more than once Father John had preached to the +red-cheeked women and children and the clear-eyed men of the Finnish +community that thrived there. + +But as they drew nearer he listened in vain for the bark of a dog, and +his eyes quested as futilely for a point of light in the wide canopy of +gloom. At last, close together, they rounded a curve in the road, and +crossed a small bridge with a creek running below, and McKay knew his +arm should be able to send a stone to what he was seeking ahead. And +then, a minute later, he drew in a great gasping breath of unbelief and +horror. + +For the settlement was no longer in the clearing between him and the +rim-glow of the moon. No living tree raised its head against the sky, no +sign of cabin or mill shadowed the earth, and where the store had been, +and the little church with its white-painted cross, was only a chaos of +empty gloom. + +He went down, as he had gone to the tie cutter's cabin, and for many +minutes he stared and listened, while Peter seemed to stand without +breathing. Then making a wide megaphone of his hands, he shouted. It was +an alarming thing to do and Peter started as if struck. For there were +only ghosts to answer back and the hollowness of a shriven pit for the +cry to travel in. Nothing was there. Even the great sawdust piles had +shrunk into black scars under the scourge of the fire. + +A groaning agony was in the breath of Jolly Roger's lips as he went back +to the railroad and hurried on Death must have come here, death sudden +and swift. And if it had fallen upon the Finnish settlement, with its +strong women and its stronger men, what might it not have done in the +cabin of the little old gray Missioner--and Nada? + +For a long time after that he forgot Peter was with him. He forgot +everything but his desire to reach a living thing. At times, where the +road-bed was smooth, he almost ran, and at others he paused for a little +to gather his breath and listen. And it was Peter, in one of these +intervals, who caught the first message of life. From a long distance +away came faintly the barking of a dog. + +Half a mile farther on they came to a clearing where no stubs of trees +stood up like question marks against the sky, and in this clearing was a +cabin, a dark blotch that was without light or sound. But from behind it +the dog barked again, and Jolly Roger made quickly toward it. Here there +was no ash under his feet, and he knew that at last he had found an +oasis of life in the desolation. Loudly he knocked with his fist at the +cabin door and soon there was a response inside, the heavy movement of a +man's body getting out of bed, and after that the questioning voice of +a woman. He knocked again and the flare of a lighted match illumined the +window. Then came the drawing of a bar at the door and a man stood there +in his night attire, a man with a heavy face and bristling beard, and a +lamp in his hand. + +"I beg your pardon for waking you," said Jolly Roger, "but I am just +down from the north, hoping to find my friends back here and I have seen +nothing but destruction and death. You are the first living soul I have +found to ask about them." + +"Where were they?" grunted the man. + +"At Cragg's Ridge." + +"Then God help them," came the woman's voice from back in the room. + +"Cragg's Ridge," said the man, "was a burning hell in the middle of the +night." + +Jolly Roger's fingers dug into the wood at the edge of the door. + +"You mean--" + +"A lot of 'em died," said the man stolidly, as if eager to rid himself +of the one who had broken his sleep. "If it was Mooney, he's dead. An' +if it was Robson, or Jake the Swede, or the Adams family--they're dead, +too." + +"But it wasn't," said Jolly Roger, his heart choking between fear and +hope. "It was Father John, the Missioner, and Nada Hawkins, who lived +with him--or with her foster-mother in the Hawkins' cabin." + +The man shook his head, and turned down the wick of his lamp. + +"I dunno about the girl, or the old witch who was her mother," he said, +"but the Missioner made it out safe, and went to the settlements." + +"And no girl was with him?" + +"No, there was no girl," came the woman's voice again, and Peter jerked +up his ears at the creaking of a bed. "Father John stopped here the +second day after the fire had passed, and he said he was gathering up +the bones of the dead. Nada Hawkins wasn't with him, and he didn't say +who had died and who hadn't. But I think--" + +She stopped as the bearded man turned toward her. + +"You think what?" demanded Jolly Roger, stepping half into the room. + +"I think," said the woman, "that she died along with the others. Anyway, +Jed Hawkins' witch-woman was burned trying to make for the lake, and +little of her was left." + +The man with the lamp made a movement as if to close the door. + +"That's all we know," he growled. + +"For God's sake--don't!" entreated Jolly Roger, barring the door with +his arm. "Surely there were some who escaped from Cragg's Ridge and +beyond!" + +"Mebby a half, mebby less," said the man. "I tell you it burned like +hell, and the worst of it came in the middle of the night with a wind +behind it that blew a hurricane. We've twenty acres cleared here, with +the cabin in the center of it, an' it singed my beard and burned her +hair and scorched our hands, and my pigs died out there from the heat of +it. Mebby it's a place to sleep in for the night you want, stranger?" + +"No, I'm going on," said Jolly Roger, the blood in his veins running +with the chill of water. "How far before I come to the end of fire?" + +"Ten miles on. It started this side of the next settlement." + +Jolly Roger drew back and the door closed, and standing on the railroad +once more he saw the light go out and after that the occasional barking +of the settler's dog grew fainter and fainter behind them. + +He felt a great weariness in his bones and body now. With hope struck +down the exhaustion of two nights and a day without sleep seized upon +him and his feet plodded more and more slowly over the uneven ties of +the road. Even in his weariness he fought madly against the thought that +Nada was dead and he repeated the word "impossible--impossible" so often +that it ran in sing-song through his brain. And he could not keep away +from him the white, thin face of the Missioner, who had promised on his +faith In God to care for Nada, and who had passed the settler's cabin +ALONE. + +Another two hours they went on and then came the first of the green +timber. Under the shelter of some balsams Jolly Roger found a resting +place and there they waited for the break of dawn. Peter stretched out +and slept. But Jolly Roger sat with his head and shoulders against the +bole of a tree, and not until the light of the moon was driven away by +the darkness that preceded dawn by an hour or two did his eyes close in +restless slumber. He was roused by the wakening twitter of birds and in +the cold water of a creek that ran near he bathed his face and hands. +Peter wondered why there was no fire and no breakfast this morning. + +The settlement was only a little way ahead and it was very early when +they reached it. People were still in their beds and out of only one +chimney was smoke rising into the clear calm of the breaking day. From +this cabin a young man came, and stood for a moment after he had closed +the door, yawning and stretching his arms and looking up to see what +sort of promise the sky held for the day. After that he went to a stable +of logs, and Jolly Roger followed him there. + +He was unlike the bearded settler, and nodded with a youthful smile of +cheer. + +"Good morning," he said. "You're traveling early, and--" + +He looked more keenly as his eyes took in Jolly Roger's boots and +clothes, and the gray pallor in his face. + +"Just get in?" he asked kindly. "And--from the burnt country?" + +"Yes, from the burnt country. I've been away a long time, and I'm trying +to find out if my friends are among the living or the dead. Did you ever +hear of Father John, the Missioner at Cragg's Ridge?" + +The young man's face brightened. + +"I knew him," he said. "He helped me to bury my brother, three years +ago. And if it's him you seek, he is safe. He went up to Fort William a +week after the fire, and that was in September, eight months past." + +"And was there with him a girl named Nada Hawkins?" asked Jolly Roger, +trying hard to speak calmly as he looked into the other's face. + +The youth shook his head. + +"No, he was alone. He slept in my cabin overnight, and he said nothing +of a girl named Nada Hawkins." + +"Did he speak of others?" + +"He was very tired, and I think he was half dead with grief at what had +happened. He spoke no names that I remember." + +Then he saw the gray look in Jolly Roger's face grow deeper, and saw the +despair which could not hide itself in his eyes. + +"But there were a number of girls who passed here, alone or with +their friends," he said hopefully. "What sort of looking girl was Nada +Hawkins?" + +"A--kid. That's what I called her," said Jolly Roger, in a dead, cold +voice. "Eighteen, and beautiful, with blue eyes, and brown hair that she +couldn't keep from blowing in curls about her face. So like an angel you +wouldn't forget her if you'd seen her--just once." + +Gently the youth placed a hand on Jolly Roger's arm. + +"She didn't come this way," he said, "but maybe you'll find her +somewhere else. Won't you have breakfast with me? I've a stranger in +the cabin, still sleeping, who's going into the fire country from which +you've come. He's hunting for some one, and maybe you can give him +information. He's going to Cragg's Ridge." + +"Cragg's Ridge!" exclaimed Jolly Roger. "What is his name?" + +"Breault," said the youth. "Sergeant Breault, of the Royal Northwest +Mounted Police." + +Jolly Roger turned to stroke the neck of a horse waiting for its morning +feed. But he felt nothing of the touch of flesh under his hand. Cold as +iron went his heart, and for half a minute he made no answer. Then he +said: + +"Thanks, friend. I breakfasted before it was light and I'm hitting out +into the brush west and north, for the Rainy River country. Please don't +tell this man Breault that you saw me, for he'll think badly of me +for not waiting to give him information he might want. But--you +understand--if you loved the brother who died--that it's hard for me to +talk with anyone just now." + +The young man's fingers touched his arm again. + +"I understand," he said, "and I hope to God you'll find her." + +Silently they shook hands, and Jolly Roger hurried away from the cabin +with the rising spiral of smoke. + +Three days later a man and a dog came from the burned country into +the town of Fort William, seeking for a wandering messenger of God who +called himself Father John, and a young and beautiful girl whose name +was Nada Hawkins. He stopped first at the old mission, in whose shadow +the Indians and traders of a century before had bartered their wares, +and Father Augustine, the aged patriarch who talked with him, murmured +as he went that he was a strange man, and a sick one, with a little +madness lurking in his eyes. + +And it was, in fact, a madness of despair eating out the life in Jolly +Roger's heart. For he no longer had hope Nada had escaped the fire, even +though at no place had he found a conclusive evidence of her death. But +that signified little, for there were many of the missing who had not +been found between the last of September and these days of May. What +he did find, with deadly regularity, was the fact that Father John had +escaped--and that he had traveled to safety ALONE. + +And Father Augustine told him that when Father John stopped to rest +for a few days at the Mission he was heading north, for somewhere on +Pashkokogon Lake near the river Albany. + +There was little rest for Peter and his master at Fort William town. +That Breault must be close on their trail, and following it with the +merciless determination of the ferret from which he had been named, +there was no shadow of doubt in the mind of Jolly Roger McKay. So after +outfitting his pack at a little corner shop, where Breault would be slow +to enquire about him, he struck north through the bush toward Dog Lake +and the river of the same name. Five or six days, he thought, would +bring him to Father John and the truth which he dreaded more and more to +hear. + +The despondency of his master had sunk, in some mysterious way, into +the soul of Peter. Without the understanding of language he sensed the +oppressive gloom of tragedy behind and about him and there was a wolfish +slinking in the manner of his travel now, and his confidence was going +as he caught the disease of despair of the man who traveled with him. +But constantly and vigilantly his eyes and scent were questing about +them, suspicious of the very winds that whispered in the treetops. And +at night after they had built their little cooking fire in the deepest +heart of the bush he would lie half awake during the hours of darkness, +the watchfulness of his senses never completely dulled in the stupor of +sleep. + +Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly Roger's +face had grown grayer and thinner. A number of times he had tried to +assure himself what he would do in that moment which was coming when he +would stand face to face with Breault the man-hunter. His caution, after +he left Fort William, was in a way an automatic instinct that worked for +self-preservation in face of the fact that he was growing less and less +concerned regarding Breault's appearance. It was not in his desire +to delay the end much longer. The chase had been a long one, with its +thrills and its happiness at times, but now he was growing tired and +with Nada gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead. If she were dead he +wanted to go to her. That thought was a dawning pleasure in his breast, +and it was warm in his heart when he tied in a hard knot the buckskin +string which locked the flap of his pistol holster. When Breault +overtook him the law would know, because of the significance of this +knot, that he had welcomed the end of the game. + +Never in the northland had there come a spring more beautiful than this +of the year in which McKay and his dog went through the deep wilds to +Pashkokogon Lake. In a few hours, it seemed, the last chill died out of +the air and there came the soft whispers of those bridal-weeks between +May and Summer, a month ahead of their time. But Jolly Roger, for the +first time in his life, failed to respond to the wonder and beauty of +the earth's rejoicing. The first flowers did not fill him with the old +joy. He no longer stood up straight, with expanding chest, to drink in +the rare sweetness of air weighted with the tonic of balsams and cedar +spruce. Vainly he tried to lift up his soul with the song and bustle +of mating things. There was no longer music for him in the flood-time +rushing of spring waters. An utter loneliness filled the cry of the +loon. And all about him was a vast emptiness from which the spirit of +life had fled for him. + +Thus he came at last to a stream in the Burntwood country which ran into +Pashkokogon Lake; and it was this day, in the mellow sunlight of late +afternoon, that they heard coming to them from out of the dense forest +the chopping of an axe. + +Toward this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until in a +little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It was a newly +built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney. + +But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of +evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their way and +came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the axe. It was +then that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, for the man was +Father John the Missioner. + +In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little gray man +seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly Roger had fled to +the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as if only half believing, +a look of joy shining in his face as he realized the truth of what had +happened. "McKay," he cried, reaching out his hands. "McKay, my boy!" + +A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the change +in Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its mark upon it. + +They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and answering +with the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner said: + +"You have heard? Someone has told you?" + +"No," said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. "No one has told +me," and he was thinking of Nada, and her death. + +Father John's fingers tightened. + +"It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about," he spoke in +a low voice. "Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him. + +"No, you didn't kill him," repeated Father John. "On that same night of +the storm when you thought you left him dead in the trail, he stumbled +back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance came soon. + +"A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell from a +ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him buried in sight +of the cabin door--" + +But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the Ferret +and the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck than he was +of another thing. And Father John was saying in a voice that seemed far +away and unreal: + +"We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone would +find you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, and each hour +of the day the same prayer has been in her heart and on her lips. And +now--" + +Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin--someone, a +girl, and she was singing, + +McKay's face went whiter than the gray ash of fire. + +"My God," he whispered huskily. "I thought--she had died!" + +It was only then Father John understood the meaning of what he had seen +in his face. + +"No, she is alive," he cried. "I sent her straight north through the +bush with an Indian the day after the fire. And later I left word for +you with the Fire Relief Committee at Fort William, where I thought you +would first enquire." + +"And it was there," said Jolly Roger, "that I did not enquire at all!" + +In the edge of the clearing, close to the thicket of timber, Nada had +stopped. For across the open space a strange looking creature had raced +at the sound of her voice; a dog with bristling Airedale whiskers, and +a hound's legs, and wild-wolf's body hardened and roughened by months of +fighting in the wilderness. As in the days of his puppyhood, Peter leapt +up against her, and a cry burst from Nada's lips, a wild and sobbing cry +of PETER, PETER, PETER--and it was this cry Jolly Roger heard as he tore +away from Father John. + +On her knees, with her arms about Peter's shaggy head, Nada stared +wildly at the clump of timber, and in a moment she saw a man break out +of it, and stand still, as if the mellow sunlight blinded him, and made +him unable to move. And the same choking weakness was at her own heart +as she rose up from Peter, and reached out her arms toward the gray +figure in the edge of the wood, sobbing, trying to speak and yet saying +no word. + +And a little slower, because of his age, Father John came a moment +later, and peered out with the knowledge of long years from a thicket +of young banksians, and when he saw the two in the open, close in +each other's arms, and Peter hopping madly about them, he drew out a +handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and went back then for the axe which he +had dropped in the timber clump. + +There was a great drumming in Jolly Roger's head, and for a time he +failed even to hear Peter yelping at their side, for all the world was +drowned in those moments by the breaking sobs in Nada's breath and the +wild thrill of her body in his arms; and he saw nothing but the upturned +face, crushed close against his breast, and the wide-open eyes, and the +lips to kiss. And even Nada's face he seemed to see through a silvery +mist, and he felt her arms strangely about his neck, as if it was all +half like a dream--a dream of the kind that had come to him beside his +campfire. It was a little cry from Nada that drove the unreality away. + +"Roger--you're--breaking me," she cried, gasping for her breath in his +arms, yet without giving up the clasp of her own arms about his neck in +the least; and at that he sensed the brutality of his strength, and held +her off a little, looking into her face. + +Pride and happiness and the courage in his heart would have slunk away +could he have seen himself then, as Father John saw him, coming from +the edge of the bush, and as Nada saw him, held there at the end of his +arms. Since the day he had come with Peter to Cragg's Ridge the blade +of a razor had not touched his face, and his beard was like a brush, +and with it his hair unkempt and straggling; and his eyes were red from +sleeplessness and the haunting of that grim despair which had dogged his +footsteps. + +But these things Nada did not see. Or, if she did, there must have been +something beautiful about them for her. For it was not a little girl, +but a woman who was standing there before Jolly Roger now--Nada grown +older, very much older it seemed to McKay, and taller, with her hair no +longer rioting free about her, but gathered up in a wonderful way on the +crown of her head. This change McKay discovered as she stood there, and +it swept upon him all in a moment, and with it the prick of something +swift and terrorizing inside him. She was not the little girl of Cragg's +Ridge. She was a WOMAN. In a year had come this miracle of change, and +it frightened him, for such a creature as this that stood before him +now Jed Hawkins would never have dared to curse or beat, and he--Roger +McKay--was afraid to gather her back into his arms again. + +And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her +shoulders, he saw that which had not changed--the wonder-light in her +eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other day in +Indian Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and squeaked on +the pantry shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay with his broken +leg in the going down of the sun. And as he hesitated it was Nada +herself who came into his arms, and laid her head on his breast, and +trembled and laughed and cried there, while Father John came up and +patted her shoulder, and smiled happily at McKay, and then went on to +the cabin in the clearing. For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed his +face in Nada's hair, and neither said a word, but there was a strange +throbbing of their hearts together, and after a little Nada reached up a +hand to his cheek, and stroked it tenderly, bristly beard and all. + +"I'll never let you run away from me again--Mister--Jolly Roger," she +said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who whispered the +words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also something very +definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious thrill of it as he +raised his face from her hair, and saw once more the sun-filled world +about him. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in +the cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical +happening, but more the mysterious FEEL of something impending and very +near. The day following their arrival in the Pashkokogon country his +master seemed to have forgotten him entirely. It was Nada who noticed +him, but even she was different; and Father John went about, overseeing +two Indians whom he kept very busy, his pale, thin face luminous with an +anticipation which roused Peter's curiosity, and kept him watchful. He +was puzzled, too, by the odd actions of the humans about him. The second +morning Nada remained in her room, and Jolly Roger wandered off into the +woods without his breakfast, and Father John ate alone, smiling +gently as he looked at the tightly closed door of Nada's bedroom. Even +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the sleek-haired Indian woman who cared for the +house, was nervously expectant as she watched for Nada, and Mistoos, +her husband, grunted and grimaced as he carried in from the edge of the +forest many loads of soft evergreens on his shoulders. + +Into the forest Jolly Roger went alone, puffing furiously at his pipe. +He was all a-tremble and his blood seemed to quiver and dance as it ran +through his veins. Since the first rose-flush of dawn he had been awake, +fighting against this upsetting of every nerve that was in him. + +He felt pitiably weak and helpless. But it was the weakness and +helplessness of a happiness too vast for him to measure. It was Nada in +her ragged shoes and dress, with the haunting torture of Jed Hawkins' +brutality in her eyes and face, that he had expected to find, if he +found her at all; someone to fight for, and kill for if necessary, +someone his muscle and brawn would always protect against evil. He had +not dreamed that in these many months with Father John she would change +from "a little kid goin' on eighteen" into--A WOMAN. + +He tried to recall just what he had said to her last night--that he was +still an outlaw, and would always be, no matter how well he lived from +this day on; and that she, now that she had Father John's protection, +was very foolish to care for him, or keep her troth with him, and would +be happier if she could forget what had happened at Cragg's Ridge. + +"You're a WOMAN now," he said. "A WOMAN--" he had emphasized that--"and +you don't need me any more." + +And she had looked at him, without speaking, as if reading what was +inside him; and then, with a sudden little laugh, she swiftly pulled her +hair down about her shoulders, and repeated the very words she had said +to him a long time ago--"Without you--I'd want to die--Mister--Jolly +Roger," and with that she turned and ran into the cabin, her hair flying +riotously, and he had not seen her again since that moment. + +Since then his heart had behaved like a thing with the fever, and it +was beating swiftly now as he looked at his watch and noted the quick +passing of time. + +Back in the cabin Peter was sniffing at the crack under Nada's door, +and listening to her movement. For a long time he had heard her, but not +once had she opened the door. And he wondered, after that, why Oosimisk +and her husband and Father John piled evergreens all about, until the +cabin looked like the little jackpine trysting-place down at Cragg's +Ridge, even to the soft carpet of grass on the floor, and flowers +scattered all about. + +Hopeless of understanding what it meant, he went outside, and waited in +the warm May-day sun until his master came back through the clearing. +What happened after that puzzled him greatly. When he followed Jolly +Roger into the cabin Mistoos and the Leaf Bud were seated in chairs, +their hands folded, and Father John stood behind a small table on which +lay an open book, and he was looking at his watch when they came in. He +nodded, and smiled, and very clearly Peter saw his master gulp, as if +swallowing something that was in his throat. And the ruddiness had gone +completely out of his smooth-shaven cheeks. It was the first time +Peter had seen his master so clearly afraid, and from his burrow in the +evergreens he growled under his breath, eyeing the open door with sudden +thought of an enemy. + +And then Father John was tapping at Nada's door. + +He went back to the table and waited, and as the knob of the door turned +very slowly Jolly Roger swallowed again, and took a step toward it. It +opened, and Nada stood there. And Jolly Roger gave a little cry, so low +that Peter could just hear it, as he held out his hands to her. + +For Nada was no longer the Nada who had come to him in Father John's +clearing. She was the Nada of Cragg's Ridge, the Nada of that wild night +of storm when he had fled into the north. Her hair fell about her, as in +the old days when Peter and she had played together among the rocks and +flowers, and her wedding dress was faded and torn, for it was the dress +she had worn that night of despair when she sent her message to Peter's +master, and on her little feet were shoes broken and disfigured by her +flight in those last hours of her mighty effort to go with the man +she loved. In Father John's eyes, as she stood there, was a great +astonishment; but in Jolly Roger's there came such a joy that, in answer +to it, Nada went straight into his arms and held up her lips to be +kissed. + +Her cheeks were very pink when she stood beside McKay, with Father John +before them, the open book in his hands; and then, as her long lashes +drooped over her eyes, and her breath came a little more quickly, she +saw Peter staring at her questioningly, and made a little motion to +him with her hand. He went to her, and her fingers touched his head as +Father John began speaking. Peter looked up, and listened, and was +very quiet in these moments. Jolly Roger was staring straight at the +balsam-decked wall opposite him, but there was something mighty strong +and proud in the way he held his head, and the fear had gone completely +out of his eyes. And Nada stood very close to him, so that her brown +head lightly touched his shoulder and he could see the silken shimmer of +loose tresses which with sweet intent she had let fall over his arm. And +her little fingers clung tightly to his thumb, as on that blessed night +when they had walked together across the plain below Cragg's Ridge, with +the moon lighting their way. + +Peter, in his dog way, fell a-wondering as he stood there, but kept his +manners and remained still. When it was all over he felt a desire to +show his teeth and growl, for when Father John had kissed Nada, and was +shaking Jolly Roger's hand, he saw his mistress crying in that strange, +silent way he had so often seen her crying in his puppyhood days. Only +now her blue eyes were wide open as she looked at Jolly Roger, and her +cheeks were flushed to the pink of wild rose petals, and her lips were +trembling a little, and there was a tiny something pulsing in her soft +white throat. And all at once there came a smile with the tears, and +Jolly Roger--turning from Father John to find her thus--gathered her +close in his arms, and Peter wagged his tail and went out into the +sun-filled day, where he heard a red squirrel challenging him from a +stub in the edge of the clearing. + +A little later he saw Nada and his master come out of the cabin, and +walk hand in hand across the open into the sweet-smelling timber where +Father John had been chopping with his axe. + +On a fresh-cut log Nada sat down, and McKay sat beside her, still +holding her hand. Not once had he spoken in crossing the open, and it +seemed as though little devils were holding his lips closed now. + +With her eyes looking down at the greening earth under their feet, Nada +said, very softly, + +"Mister--Jolly Roger--are you glad?" + +"Yes," he said. + +"Glad that I am--your wife?" + +The word drew a great, sobbing breath from him, and looking up suddenly +she saw that he was staring over the balsam-tops into the wonderful blue +of the sky. + +"Your WIFE," she whispered, touching his shoulder gently with her lips. + +"Yes, I'm glad," he said. "So glad that I'm--afraid." + +"Then--if you are glad--please kiss me again." + +He stood up, and drew her to him, and held her face between his hands as +he kissed her red lips; and after that he kissed her shining hair again +and again, and when he let her go her eyes were a glory of happiness. + +"And you will never run away from me again?" she demanded, holding him +at arm's length. "Never?" + +"Never!" + +"Then--I want nothing more in this life," she said, nestling against him +again. "Only you, for ever and ever." + +Jolly Roger made no answer, but held her a long time in his arms, with +the soft beating of her heart against him, and listened to the twitter +and song of nesting and mating things about them. In this silence she +lay content, until Peter--growing restless--started quietly into the +golden depths of the forest. + +It was Pied-Bot's going, cautious and soft-footed, as if danger and +menace might lurk just ahead of him, that brought another look into +McKay's eyes as Nada's hand crept to his cheek, and rested there. + +"You love me--very much?" + +"More than life," he answered, and as he spoke he was watching Peter, +questing the soft wind that came whispering from the south. + +Her finger touched his lips, gentle and sweet. + +"And wherever you go, I go--forever and always?" she questioned. + +"Yes, forever and always"--and his eyes were looking through miles upon +miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and pitiless face +of a man who was following his trail, Breault the Ferret. + +His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face against +him. + +"And I pray God you will never be sorry," he said, still looking through +the miles of forest. + +"No, no--sorry I shall never be," she cried softly. "Not if we fly, and +go hungry, and fight--and die. Never shall I be sorry--with you," and he +felt the tightening of her arms. + +And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety smoothness +of her hair, she told him what Father John had already told him--of her +wild effort to overtake him in that night of storm when he had fled +from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's Ridge; and in turn he told her how +Peter came to him in the break of the morning with the treasure which +had saved him heart and soul, and how he had given that treasure into +the keeping of Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston. + +And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time +sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only Yellow +Bird and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she learned how +it was that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in childhood days, and how +he came to be an outlaw for her in later manhood. Her eyes were shining +when he had finished, and her red lips were a-tremble with the quickness +of her breathing. + +"Some day--you'll take me there," she whispered. "Oh, I'm so proud of +you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day--we'll +go!" + +He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had grown in +his heart. + +"Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me +alive--" + +And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found with +Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston. + +And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon when +they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her room. + +In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had been +preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear again. + +And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of her, +for very completely she had transformed herself into a woman again, +from the softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her head to the +coquettish little slippers that set off her dainty feet. And he saw the +white gleam of soft shoulders and tender arms where once had been rags +and bruises, and held there by the slim beauty and exquisite daintiness +of her he stared like a fool, until suddenly she laughed joyously at +his amaze, and ran to him with wide-open arms, and kissed him so soundly +that Peter cocked up his ears a bit startled. And then she kissed Father +John, and after that was mistress at the table, radiant in her triumph +and her eyes starry with happiness. + +And she was no longer shy in speaking his name, but called him +Roger boldly and many times, and twice during that meal of marvelous +forgetfulness--though long lashes covered her eyes when she spoke +it--she called him 'my husband.' + +In truth she was a woman and for the most part Roger McKay--fighting man +and very strong though he was--looked at her in dumb worship, speaking +little, his heart a-throb, and his brain reeling in the marvel of what +at last had come into his possession. + +And yet, even in this hour of supreme happiness that held him half mute, +there was always lurking in the back of his brain a thought of Breault, +the Ferret. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the star dusk of evening the time came when he spoke his fears to +Father John. + +Nada had gone into her room, taking Peter with her, and out under the +cool of the skies Father John's pale face was turned up to the unending +glory of the firmament, and his lips were whispering a prayer of +gratitude and blessing, when Roger laid a hand gently on his arm. + +"Father," he said, "it is a wonderful night." + +"A night of gladness and omen," replied Father John. "See the stars! +They seem to be alive and rejoicing, and it is not sacrilege to believe +they are, giving you their benediction." + +"And yet--I am afraid." + +"Afraid?" + +Father John looked into his eyes, and saw him staring off over the +forest-tops. + +"Yes--afraid for her." + +Briefly he told him of what had happened on the Barren months ago, +and how he had narrowly escaped Breault in coming away from the burned +country. + +"He is on my trail," he said, "and tonight he is not very far away." + +The Missioner's hand rested in a comforting way on his arm. + +"You did not kill Jed Hawkins, my son, and for that we have thanked God +each day and night of our lives--Nada and I. And each evening she has +prayed for you, kneeling at my side, and through every hour of the day +I know she was praying for you in her heart--and I believe in the answer +to prayer such as that, Roger. Her faith, now, is as deep as the sea. +And you, too, must have faith." + +"She is more precious to me than life--a thousand lives, if I had them," +whispered Jolly Roger. "If anything should happen--now--" + +"Yes, if the thing you fear should happen, what then?" cried Father +John, faith ringing like a note of inspiration in his low voice. "What, +then, Roger? You did not kill Jed Hawkins. If the law compels you to pay +a price for the errors it believes you have committed, will that price +be so terribly severe?" + +"Prison, Father. Probably five years." + +Father John laughed softly, the star-glow revealing a radiance in his +face. + +"Five years!" he repeated. "Oh, my boy, my dear boy, what are five years +to pay for such a treasure as that which has come into your possession +tonight? Five short years--only five. And she waiting for you, proud of +you for those very achievements which sent you to prison, planning for +all the future that lies beyond those five short years, growing sweeter +and more beautiful for you as she waits--Roger, is that a very great +sacrifice? Is it too great a price to pay? Five years, and after +that--peace, love, happiness for all time? Is it, Roger?" + +McKay felt his voice tremble as he tried to answer. + +"But she, father--" + +"Yes, yes, I know what you would say," interrupted Father John gently. +"I argued with her, just as you would have argued, Roger. I appealed +to her reason. I told her that if you returned it would mean prison for +you, and strangely I said that same thing--five years. But I found her +selfish, Roger, very selfish--and set upon her desire beyond all reason. +And it was she who asked first those very questions I have asked you +tonight. 'What are five years?' she demanded of me, defying my logic. +'What are five years--or ten--or twenty, IF I KNOW I AM TO HAVE HIM +AFTER THAT?' Yes, she was selfish, Roger. Just that great is her love +for you." + +"Dear God in Heaven," breathed Jolly Roger, and stopped, his eyes +staring wide at the stars. + +"And after that, after I had given in to her selfishness, Roger, she +planned how we--she and I--would live very near to the place where they +imprisoned you, and how each day some sight or sign should pass between +you, and the baby--" + +"The baby, Father?" + +"Thus it seems she dreams, Roger. She, in the wilfulness of her desire +and selfishness--" + +With a choking cry Roger bowed his face in his hands. + +For a moment Father John was silent. And then he said, so very low that +it was almost a whisper, + +"I have passed many years in the wilderness, Roger, many years trying +to look into the hearts of people--and of God. And this--this love of +Nada's--is the greatest of all the miracles I have witnessed in a life +that is now reaching to its three score and five. Do you see the wonder +of it, son? And does it make you happy, and fearless now?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned slowly and went in the +direction of the cabin, leaving Roger alone under the thickening stars. +And McKay's face was like Father John's, filled with a strange and +wonderful radiance when he looked up. But with that light of happiness +was also the fiercer underglow of a great determination. For Nada--for +THE BABY--the worst should not happen; he breathed the thought aloud, +and in the words was a prayer that God might help him, and make +unnecessary the sacrifice from which Father John had taken the sting of +fear. And yet, if that sacrifice came, he saw clearly now that it would +not be a great tragedy but only a brief shadow cast over the +undying happiness in his soul. For they--NADA AND THE BABY--would be +waiting--waiting-- + +Suddenly he was conscious of a sound very near, and he beheld Nada, +taller and slimmer and more beautiful than ever, it seemed to him, in +the starlight. + +"I have told him," Father John had whispered to her only a moment +before. "I have told him, so that he will not fear prison--either for +himself or for you." + +And she had come to him quietly, all of the pretty triumph and +playfulness gone, so that she stood like an angel in the soft glow of +the skies, much older than he had ever seen her before, and smiled at +him with a new and wonderful tenderness as she held out her hands to +him. + +Not until she lay in his arms, looking up at him from under her long +lashes, did he dare to speak. And then, + +"Is it true--what Father John has told me?" he asked. + +"It is true," she whispered, and the silken lashes covered her eyes. + +Her hand crept up to his face in the silence that followed, and rested +there; and with no desire to hear more than the three words she had +spoken he crushed his lips in the sweet coils of her hair, and +together, in that peace ands understanding, they listened to the gentle +whisperings of the night. + +"Roger," she whispered at last. + +"Yes, my NEWA--" + +"What does that mean, Roger?" + +"It means--beloved--wife" + +"Then I like it. But I shall like the others--one of the others--best." + +"My--WIFE." + +"That--that makes me happiest, Roger. Your WIFE. Oh, it is the sweetest +word in the world, that--and--" + +He felt her warm face hide itself softly against his neck. + +"Mother," he added. + +"Yes--Mother," she repeated after him in an awed little voice. "Oh, I +have dreamed of Mothers since I have been old enough to dream, Roger! My +Mother--I never had one that I can remember, except in a dream. It must +be wonderful to--to--have a Mother, Roger." + +"And yet, I think, not quite so wonderful as to BE a Mother, my Nada." + +"Listen!" she whispered. + +"It is the Leaf Bud singing." + +"A love song?" + +"Yes, in Cree." + +She raised her head, so that her eyes were wide open, and looking at +him. + +"Since we came up here all this wonderful world has been promising +song for me, Roger. And since you came back to me it has been +singing--singing--singing--every hour of night and day. Have you ever +dreamed of leaving it, Roger--of going down into that world of towns and +cities of which Father John has told me so much?" + +"Would you like to go there, Nada?" + +"Only to look upon it, and come away. I want to live in the forests, +where I found you. Always and always, Roger." + +She raised herself on tip-toe, and kissed him. + +"I want to live near Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud--please--Mister Jolly +Roger--I do. And Father John will go with us. And we'll be so happy +there all together, Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud and Giselle and I--oh!" + +His arms had tightened so suddenly that the little cry came from her. + +"And yet--I may have to leave you for a little time, Nada. But it +will not be for long. What are five years, when all life reaches out a +paradise before us? They are nothing--nothing--and will pass swiftly--" + +"Yes, they will pass swiftly," she said, so gently that scarce did he +hear. + +But on his breast she gave a little sob which would not choke itself +back, a sob which bravely she smiled through a moment later, and which +he--knowing that it was best--made as if he had not heard. + +And so, this night, while Father John and Peter waited and watched in +the cabin, did they plan their future in the company of the stars. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The Sabbath was a day of glory and peace in the Burntwood country. The +sun rose warm and golden, the birds were singing, and never had the air +seemed sweeter to Father John when he came out quietly from the cabin +and breathed it in the early break of dawn. Best of all he loved this +very beginning of day, before darkness was quite gone, when the world +seemed to be awakening mid sleepy whisperings and sounds came clearly +from a long distance. + +This morning he heard the barking of a dog, a mile away it must have +been, and Peter, who followed close beside him, pricked up his ears at +the sound of it. Father John had noted Peter's vigilance, the cautious +expectancy with which he was always sniffing the air, and the keen +alertness of his eyes and ears. McKay had explained the reason for +it. And this morning, as they made their way down to the pool at +the creekside, Peter's ceaseless watching for danger held a deeper +significance for Father John. All through the night, in spite of his +faith and his words of consolation, he was thinking of the menace which +was following McKay, and which eventually must catch up with him. + +And yet, how short a time was five years! Looking backward, each five +years of his life seemed but a yesterday. It was eight times five years +ago that a sweet-faced girl had first filled his life, as Nada filled +Jolly Roger's now, and through the thirty years since he had lost her he +could still hear her voice as clearly as though he had held her in his +arms only a few hours ago, so swift had been the passing of time. But +looking ahead, and not backward, five years seemed an eternity of time, +and the dread of it was in Father John's heart as he stood at the side +of the pool, with the first pink glow of sunrise coming to him over the +forest-tops. + +Five years, and he was an old man now. A long and dreary wait it would +be for him. But for youth, the glorious youth of Roger and Nada, it +would seem very short when in later years they looked back upon it. And +for a time as he contemplated the long span of life that lay behind +him, and the briefness of that which lay ahead, a yearning selfishness +possessed the soul of Father John, an almost savage desire to hold those +five years away from the violation of the law--not alone for Nada's sake +and Roger McKay's--but for his own. In this twilight of a tragic life a +great happiness had come to him in the love of these two, and thought of +its menace, its desecration by a pitiless and mistaken justice, roused +in him something that was more like the soul of a fighting man than the +spirit of a missioner of God. + +Vainly he tried to stamp out the evil of this resentment, for evil he +believed it to be. And shame possessed him when he saw the sweet glory +in Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness that was in Roger +McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, and the hidden fear +which he could not vanquish. + +And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, being +Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and he preached +to them in the little mission house which they had helped him to build +of logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in Cree, and partly in English, +and his message was one of hope and inspiration, pointing out the silver +linings that always lay beyond the darkness of clouds. To McKay, holding +Nada's hand in his own as they listened, Father John's words brought a +great and comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and voice as she led in +Cree the song, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," he heard and saw the living +fire of that faith, and had Breault come in through the open doorway +then he would have accepted him calmly as the beginning of that +sacrifice which he had made up his mind to make. + +In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John heard +again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of questions +about her, and for the first time the Missioner learned of the +inspiration which the Indian woman's sorcery had been to Jolly Roger. + +"It was foolish," McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and faith +which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. "But--it helped me." + +"It wasn't foolish," replied Nada quickly. "Yellow Bird DID come to me. +And--SHE KNEW." + +"No true faith is folly," said Father John, in his soft, low voice. "The +great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was inspired by a great +confidence, and confidence and faith give to the mind a power which it +is utterly incapable of possessing without them. I believe in the mind, +children. I believe that in some day to come it will reach those heights +where it will unlock the mystery of life itself to us. I have seen many +strange things in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, and not the +least of these have been the achievements of the primitive mind. And it +seems to me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that has come true. +And has it occurred to you--" + +He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear in +his heart was driving him to say these things. + +"What, father," questioned Nada, bending toward him. + +"I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost childish +curiosity, and you will laugh at me, my dear. I am wondering if it has +occurred to Roger the mysterious 'Country Beyond' of which Yellow +Bird dreamed might be the great country down there--south--BEYOND THE +BORDER--the United States?" + +Something which he could not control seemed to drive the words from +his lips, and in an instant he saw that Nada had seized upon their +significance. Her eyes widened. The blue in them grew darker, and Roger +observed her fingers grip suddenly in the softness of her dress as she +turned from Father John to look at him. + +"Or--it might be China, or Africa, or the South Seas," he tried to +laugh, remembering his old visions. "It might be--anywhere." + +Nada's lips trembled, as if she were about to speak; and then very +quietly she sat, with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and Father +John knew she was not expressing the thought in her heart when she said, + +"Someday I want to tell Yellow Bird how much I love her." + +Now in these hours since he and his master had come to the Burntwood +it seemed to Peter that he had lost something very great, for in his +happiness McKay had taken but scant notice of him, and Nada seemed to +have found a greater joy than that which a long time ago she had found +in his comradeship. So now, as she saw him lying in his loneliness a +short distance away, Nada suddenly ran to him, and together they went +into the thick screen of the balsams, Peter yipping joyously, and Nada +without so much as turning her head in the direction of Roger and Father +John. But even in that bird-like swiftness with which she had left them, +Father John had caught the look in her eyes. + +"I have made a mistake," he confessed humbly. "I have sinned, because in +her I have roused the temptation to urge you to fly away with her--down +there--south. She is a woman, and being a woman she has infinite +faith in Yellow Bird, for Yellow Bird helped to give you to her. She +believes--" + +"And I--I--also believe," said McKay, staring at the green balsams. + +"And yet--it is better for you to remain. God means that judgment and +happiness should come in their turn." + +Jolly Roger rose to his feet, facing the south. + +"It is a temptation, father. It would be hard to give her up--now. If +Breault would only wait a little while. But if he comes--NOW--" + +He walked away slowly, following through the balsams where Nada and +Peter had gone. Father John watched him go, and a trembling smile came +to his lips when he was alone. In his heart he knew he was a coward, +and that these young people had been stronger than he. For in their +happiness and the faith which he had falsely built up in them they had +resigned themselves to the inevitable, while he, in these moments of +cowardice, had shown them the way to temptation. And yet as he stood +there, looking in the direction they had gone, he felt no remorse +because of what he had done, and a weight seemed to have lifted itself +from his shoulders. + +For a time the more selfish instincts of the man rose in him, fighting +down the sacrificial humility of the great faith of which he was a +messenger. The new sensation thrilled him, and in its thrill he felt his +heart beating a little faster, and hope rising in him. Five years were +a long time--FOR HIM. That was the thought which kept repeating itself +over and over in his brain, and with it came that other thought, that +self-preservation was the first law of existence, and therefore could +not be a sin. Thus did Father John turn traitor to his spoken words, +though his calm and smiling face gave no betrayal of it when Nada and +Roger returned to the cabin an hour later, their arms filled with red +bakneesh vines and early wildflowers. + +Nada's cheeks were as pink as the bakneesh, and her eyes as blue as the +rock-violets she wore on her breast. + +And Father John knew that Jolly Roger was no longer oppressed by +the fear of a menace which he was helpless to oppose, for there was +something very confident in the look of his eyes and the manner in which +they rested upon Nada. + +Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early +evening. He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada again, +hugging his shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him in the old, +excited way. And strange memory of a bundle came back to Peter, for very +quietly, as if unseen ears might be listening to her, Nada gathered many +things in a pile on the table, and made another bundle. This bundle she +thrust under her bed, just as a long time ago she had thrust a similar +bundle under a banksian clump in the meadowland below Cragg's Ridge. + +Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of Breault. +The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, and Breault +would surely go there before questing from cabin to cabin for his +victim. + +So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making a +sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, saying he +had business at the post that day, and without wakening them had made an +early start. This note Nada read to McKay when they sat at breakfast. + +"Quite frequently he has gone like that," Nada explained. "He loves the +forests at night--in the light of the moon." + +"But last night there was no moon," said Roger. + +"Yes--" + +"And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it was +very dark." + +"You heard him go?" + +"Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he wrote +that note in the candle-glow." + +"Roger, what do you mean?" + +McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed her +shining hair and questioning eyes. + +"It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to the +post to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in his heart +he wants us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. For he is sure +that he knows what Yellow Bird meant by 'The Country Beyond.' It is the +great big world outside the forests, a world so big that if need be we +can put ourselves ten thousand miles away from the trails of the mounted +police. That is the thought which is urging him to the post to look for +Breault." + +Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with +eagerness she said, + +"Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night--and it is under +the bed." + +He held her more closely. + +"And you are willing to go with me--anywhere?" + +"Yes, anywhere." + +"To the end of the earth?" + +Her crumpled head nodded against his breast. + +"And leave Father John?" + +"Yes, for you. But I think--sometime--he will come to us." + +Her fingers touched his cheek. + +"And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part +of the world, Roger." + +"Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us," he +laughed happily. + +"I'd love the desert, Roger." + +"Or an uninhabited island?" + +Against him her head nodded again. + +"I'd love life anywhere--WITH YOU." + +"Then--we'll go," he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of the +joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, steadying +his voice until it was almost cold. "But it means giving up everything +you've dreamed of, Nada--these forests you love, Father John, Yellow +Bird, Sun Cloud--" + +"I have only one dream," she interrupted him softly. + +"And five years will pass very quickly," he continued. "Possibly it will +not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love will be free +to us forever. Gladly will I remain and take my punishment if in the end +it will make us happier, Nada." + +"I have only one dream," she repeated, caressing his cheek with her +hand, "and that is you, Roger. Wherever you take me I shall be the +happiest woman in the world." + +"WOMAN," he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud. + +"Yes, I am a woman--now" + +"And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg's Ridge," he cried +with sudden passion, crushing her close to him. "I'd lose my life +sooner than I would lose her, Nada--the little girl with flying hair and +strawberry stain on her nose, and who believed so faithfully in the Man +in the Moon. Always I shall worship her as the little goddess who came +down to me from somewhere in heaven!" + +Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John's return, he +saw more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown the +glory of Nada's wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at the miracle +of it. There was something vastly sweet in the change of her. She was +no longer the utterly dependent little thing, possibly caring for him +because he was big and strong and able to protect her; she was a woman, +and loved him as a woman, and not because of fear or helplessness. And +then came the thrilling mystery of another thing. He found himself, +in turn, beginning to depend upon her, and in their planning her calm +decision and quiet reasoning strengthened him with new confidence and +made his heart sing with gladness. With his eyes on the smooth and +velvety coils of hair which she had twisted woman-like on her head, he +said, + +"With your hair like that you are my Margaret of Anjou, and the other +way--with it down you are my little Nada of Cragg's Ridge. And I--I +don't quite understand why God should be so good to me." + +And this day Peter was trying in his dumb way to analyze the change. The +touch of Nada's hand thrilled him, as it did a long time ago, and still +he sensed the difference. Her voice was even softer when she put her +cheek down to his whiskered face and talked to him, but in it he missed +that which he could not quite bring back clearly through the lapse of +time--the childish comradeship of her. Yet he began to worship her anew, +even more fiercely than he had loved the Nada of old. He was content now +to lie with his nose touching her foot or dress; but when in the sunset +of early evening she went into her room, and came out a little later +with her curling hair clouding her shoulders and breast, and tied with +a faded ribbon she had brought from Cragg's Ridge, he danced about her, +yelping joyously, and she accepted the challenge in a wild race with him +to the edge of the clearing. + +Panting and flushed she ran back to Jolly Roger, and rested in his arms. + +And it was McKay, with his face half hidden in her riotous hair, who saw +a figure come suddenly out of the forest at the far end of the clearing. +It was Father John. He saw him pause for an instant, and then stagger +toward them, swaying as if about to fall. + +The sudden stopping of his breath--the tightening of his arms--drew +Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the little old +Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the clearing. With a cry she +was out of McKay's arms and running toward him. + +Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His face +was tense and his breath came in choking gasps. But he tried to smile as +he clutched a hand at his breast. + +"I have hurried," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, "and I +am--winded--" + +He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger. + +"Roger--I have hurried to tell you--Breault is coming. He cannot be far +behind me. Possibly half a mile, or a mile--" + +In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his hands. + +"I find--at last--that I was mistaken, child," he said, very calmly now. +"I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be taken by Breault. +You must go. There is no time to lose. If Breault does not stumble off +the trail in this gloom he will be here in a few minutes. Come." + +Not a word did Nada say as they went to the cabin, and McKay saw her +tense face as pale as an ivory cameo in the twilight. But something in +the up-tilt of her chin and the poise of her head assured him she was +prepared, and unafraid. + +In the cabin the Leaf Bud met them, and to her Nada spoke quickly. There +was understanding between them, and Oosimisk dragged in a filled pack +from the kitchen while Nada ran into her room and came out with the +bundle. + +Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast +throbbing with excitement. + +"There is nothing more to make ready," she said. "Yellow Bird has +been with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare. We have +everything we need." + +And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about his +neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face. + +"Father, you will come to us?" she whispered. "You promise that?" + +The Missioner's arms closed about her, and he bowed his face against her +lips and cheek. + +"I pray God that it may be so," he said. + +Nada's arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came a +warning growl from outside the cabin door. + +"Peter!" she cried. + +In another moment Father John had extinguished the light. + +"Go, my children," he commanded. "You must be quick. Twenty paces below +the pool is a canoe. I had one of my Indians leave it there yesterday, +and it is ready. Roger--Nada--" + +He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness. + +"God bless you--both! And go south--always south. Now go--go! I think I +hear footsteps--" + +He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with his +pack. Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he fastened +his fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back. + +"Good-bye," he whispered huskily. "Good-bye--Nada--Roger--" + +A sob came back out of the gloom. + +"Good-bye, father." + +And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift footsteps +of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing. + +Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him as he +closed the door. + +"It's best for you to stay, Peter," he tried to explain. "It's best for +you to stay--with me. For I think they are going a far distance, and +will come to a land where you would shrivel up and die. Besides, you +could not go in the canoe. So be good, and remain with me, Peter--with +me--" + +And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a strange +little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in darkness for +a light. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a match +and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John's waxen face grew out +of the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and scratched with, his paws +at the closed door. + +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark eyes +staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe. + +In the old Missioner's face came a trembling smile and a look of triumph +as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze, + +"All is well, Oosimisk," he said quietly, speaking in Cree. "They are +safely away, and will not be caught. Continue with your duties and let +no one see that anything unusual has happened. Breault will come very +soon." + +He straightened his shoulders, as if to give himself confidence and +strength, and then he called Peter, and comforted the dog whose master +and mistress were fleeing through the dark. + +"They have reached the pool," he said, seating himself and holding +Peter's shaggy head between his hands. "They have just about reached the +pool, and Breault must be entering the clearing on the other side. Roger +cannot miss the canoe--twenty paces down and with nothing to shadow +it overhead; I think he has found it by this time, and in another half +minute they will be off. And it is very black down the Burntwood, with +deep timber close to the water, and for many miles no man can follow by +night along its shores." Suddenly his hands tightened, and the Leaf Bud, +watching him slyly, saw the last of suspense go out of his face. +"And now--they are safe," he cried exultantly. "They must be on their +way--and Breault has not come across the clearing!" + +He rose to his feet, and began pacing back and forth, while Peter +sniffed yearningly at the door again. Oosimisk, with the caution of her +race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, +and Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the +man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he walked +back and forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps. Peter, with +a sigh, gave up his scratching and settled himself on his haunches close +to Nada's door. + +Father John, in passing him, paused to lay a hand on his head. + +"Some day it may please God to let us go to them," he consoled, speaking +for himself even more than for Peter. "Some day, when they are far +away--and safe." + +He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf Bud +came a low, swift word of warning. + +She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean rattled +under her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing even as the +cabin door opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in it. + +The unexpectedness of his appearance, without the sound of a warning +footstep outside, was amazing even to Peter. In the open door he stood +for a moment, his thin, ferret-like face standing out against the black +background of the night, and his strange eyes, apparently half closed +yet bright as diamonds, sweeping the interior without effort but with +the quickness of lightning. + +There was something deadly and foreboding about him as he stood here, +and Peter growled low in his throat. Recognition flashed upon him in an +instant. It was the man of the snow-dune, away up on the Barren, the man +whom he had mistrusted from the beginning, and from whom they had fled +into the face of the Big Storm months ago. His mind worked swiftly, even +as swiftly as Breault's in its way, and without any process of reasoning +he sensed menace and enmity in this man's appearance, and associated +with it the mysterious flight of Jolly Roger and Nada. + +Breault had nodded, without speaking. Then his eyes rested on Peter, +and his face broke into a twisted sort of smile. It was not altogether +unpleasant, yet was there something about it which made one shiver. It +spoke the character of the man, pitiless, determined, omniscient almost, +as if the spirit of a grim and unrelenting fate walked with him. + +Again he nodded, and held out a hand. + +"Peter," he called. "Come here, Peter!" + +Peter flattened his ears a fraction of an inch, but did not move. Even +that fraction of an inch caught Breault's keen eyes. + +"Still a one-man dog," he observed, stepping well inside the cabin, and +facing Father John. "Where is McKay, Father?" + +He had not closed the door, and Peter saw his chance. The Leaf Bud saw +him pass like a shot out into the night, but as he went she made no +effort to call him back, for her ears were wide open as Breault repeated +his question, + +"Where is McKay, Father?" + +Peter heard the man-hunter's voice from the darkness outside. For barely +an instant he paused, picking up the fresh scent of Nada and Jolly +Roger. It was easy to follow--straight to the pool, and from the pool +twenty paces down-stream, where a little finger of sand and pebbles had +been formed by the eddies. In this bar was fresh imprint of the canoe, +and here the footprints ended. + +Peter whimpered, peering into the tunnel of darkness between forest +trees, where the water rippled and gurgled softly on its way into +a deeper and more tangled wilderness. He waded belly-deep into the +current, half determined to swim; and then he waited, listening +intently, but could hear no sound of voice or paddle stroke. + +Yet he knew Jolly Roger and Nada could not be far away. + +He returned to the edge of the pool, and began sniffing his way +down-stream, pausing every two or three minutes to listen. Now and +then he caught the presence of those he sought, in the air, but those +intervals in which he stopped to catch sound of voice or paddle lost him +time, so the canoe was traveling faster than Peter. + +Half way between himself and the bow of that canoe McKay could dimly +make out Nada's pale face in the star glow that filtered like a mist +through the tops of the close-hanging trees. + +Scarcely above his breath he laughed in joyous confidence. + +"At last my dream is coming true, Nada," he whispered. "You are mine. +And we are going into another world. And no one will ever find us +there--no one but Father John, when we send him word. You are not +afraid?" + +Her voice trembled a little in the gloom. + +"No, I am not afraid. But it is dark--so dark--" + +"The moon will be with us again in a few nights--your moon, with the Old +Man smiling down on us. I know how the Man in the Moon must feel when +he's on the other side of the world, and can't see you, Nada." + +Her silence made him lean toward her, striving to get a better view of +her face where the starlight broke through an opening in the tree-tops. + +And in that moment he heard a little breath that was almost a sob. + +"It's Peter," she said, before he could speak. "Oh, Roger, why didn't we +bring Peter?" + +"Possibly--we should have," he replied, skipping a stroke with his +paddle. "But I think we have done the best thing for Peter. He is a +wilderness dog, and has never known anything different. Over there, +where we are going--" + +"I understand. And some day, Father John will bring him?" + +"Yes. He has promised that. Peter will come to us when Father John +comes." + +She had turned, looking into the pit-gloom ahead of them, so dark that +the canoe seemed about to drive against a wall. Under its bow the water +gurgled like oil. + +"We are entering the big cedar swamp," he explained. "It is like Blind +Man's Buff, isn't it? Can you see?" + +"Not beyond the bow of the canoe, Roger." + +"Work back to me," he said, "very carefully." + +She came, obediently. + +"Now turn slowly, so that you face the bow, and lean back with your head +against my knees." + +This also, she did. + +"This is much nicer," she whispered, nestling her head comfortably +against him. "So much nicer." + +By leaning over until his back nearly cracked he was able to find her +lips in the darkness. + +"I was thinking of the brush that overhangs the stream," he explained +when he had straightened himself. "Sitting up as you were it might have +caused you hurt." + +There was a little silence between them, in which his paddle caught +again its slow and steady rhythm. Then, + +"Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger--and of the hurt it might +cause me?" + +"Yes, only of that," and he chuckled softly. + +"Then I don't think it nice here at all," she complained. "I shall sit +up straight so the brush may put my eyes out!" + +But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to +interrupt his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant with her +hand. + +"It's there," she purled, as if utterly comforted. "I wanted to be +sure--it is so dark!" + +With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic tunnel +ahead, they were happy. Staring straight before him, though utterly +unable to see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and in every +breath he drew the exquisite thrill of a miracle. And the same thrill +swept into him and through him from the softly breathing body of Nada. +Light or darkness made no difference now. Together, inseparable from +this time forth, they had started on the one great adventure of their +lives, and for them fear had ceased to exist. The night sheltered +them. Its very blackness held in its embrace a warmth of welcome and +of unending hope. Twice in the next half hour he put his hand to Nada's +face, and each time she pressed her lips against it, sweet with that +confidence which so completely possessed her soul. + +Very slowly they moved through the swamp, for because of the gloom +his paddle-strokes were exceedingly short, and he was feeling his +way. Frequently he ran into brush, or struck the boggy shore, and +occasionally Nada would hold lighted matches while he extricated the +canoe from tree-tops and driftwood that impeded the way. He loved the +brief glimpses he caught of her face in the match-glow, and twice he +deliberately wasted the tiny flares that he might hold the vision of her +a little longer. + +At last he began to feel the pulse of a current against his paddle, +and soon after that the star-mist began filtering through the thinning +tree-tops again, so that he knew they were almost through the swamp. +Another half-hour and they were free of it, with a clear sky overhead +and the cheering song of running water on both sides of them. + +Nada sat up, and it was now so light that he could see the soft shimmer +of her hair in the starlight. He also saw a pretty little grimace in her +face, even as she smiled at him. + +"I--I can't move," she exclaimed. "UGH! my feet are asleep--" + +"We'll go ashore and stretch ourselves," said McKay, who had looked at +his watch in the light of the last match. "We've two hours the start of +Breault, and there is no other canoe." + +He began watching the shore closely, and it was not long before he made +out the white smoothness of a sandbar on their right. Here they landed +and for half an hour rested their cramped limbs. + +Then they went on, and in his heart McKay blessed the deep swamp that +lay between them and Breault. + +"I don't think he can make it without a canoe, even if he guesses we +went this way," he explained to Nada. "And that means--we are safe." + +There was a cheery ring in his voice which would have changed to the +deadness of cold iron could he have looked back into that sluggish pit +of the Burntwood through which they had come, or could he have seen into +the heart of the still blacker swamp. + +For through the swamp, feeling his way in the black abysses and amid the +monster-ghosts of darkness, came Peter. + +And down the Burntwood, between the boggy mucklips of the swamp, a man +followed with slow but deadly surety, guiding with a long pole two light +cedar timbers which he had lashed together with wire, and which bore him +safely and in triumph where the canoe had gone before him. + +This man was Breault, the man-hunter. + +"The swamp will hold him!" McKay was saying again, exultantly. "Even if +he guesses our way, the swamp will hold him back, Nada." + +"But he won't know the way we have come," cried Nada, the faith in +her voice answering his own. "Father John will guide him in another +direction." + +Back in the pit-gloom, with a grim smile now and then relaxing the +tight-set compression of his thin lips, and with eyes that stared like a +night-owl's into the gloom ahead of him, Breault poled steadily on. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Dripping from the bog-holes and lathered with mud, it was the mystery of +Breault's noiseless presence somewhere near him in the still night that +drew Peter continually deeper into the swamp. + +Half a dozen times he caught the scent of him in a quiet air that +seemed only now and then to rise up in his face softly, as if stirred by +butterflies' wings. Always it came from ahead, and Peter's mind worked +swiftly to the decision that where Breault was there also would be Nada +and Jolly Roger. Yet he caught the scent of neither of these two, and +that puzzled him. + +Many times he found himself at the edge of the black lip of water, but +never quite at the right time to see a shadow in its darkness, or hear +the sound of Breault's pole. + +But in the swamp, as he went on, he saw nothing but shadow, and heard +weird and nameless sounds which made his blood creep, even though his +courage was now full-grown within him. + +He was not frightened at the ugly sputter of the owls, as in the days of +old. Their throaty menace and snapping beaks did not stop him nor turn +him aside. The slashing scrape of claws in the bark of trees and the +occasional crackling of brush were matters of intimate knowledge, and +he gave but little attention to them in his eagerness to reach those +who had gone ahead of him. What troubled him, and filled his eyes with +sudden red glares, were the oily gurgles of the pitfalls which tried to +suck him down; the laughing madness of muck that held him as if living +things were in it, and which spluttered and coughed when he freed +himself. + +Half blinded at times, so that even the black shadows were blotted out, +he went on. And at last, coming again to the edge of the stream, he +heard a new kind of sound--the slow, steady dipping of Breault's pole. + +He hurried on, finding harder ground under his feet, and came +noiselessly abreast of the man on his raft of cedar timbers. He could +almost hear his breathing. And very faintly he could see in the vast +gloom a shadow--a shadow that moved slowly against the background of a +still deeper shadow beyond. + +But there was no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and whatever desire +had risen in him to make himself known was smothered by caution and +suspicion. After this he did not go ahead of Breault, but kept behind +him or abreast of him, within sound of the dipping pole. And every +minute his heart thumped expectantly, and he sniffed the new air for +signs of those he most desired to find. + +Dawn was breaking in the sky when they came out of the swamp, and the +first flush of the sun was lighting up the east when Breault headed his +improvised craft for the sandbar upon which Nada and McKay had rested +many hours before. + +Breault was tired, but his eyes lighted up when he saw the footprints in +the sand, and he chuckled--almost good humoredly. As a matter of fact +he was in a good humor. But one would not have reckoned it as such in +Breault. A hard man, the forests called him; a man with the hunting +instincts of the fox and the wolf and the merciless persistency of the +weazel--a man who lived his code to the last letter of the law, without +pity and without favoritism. At least so he was judged, and his hard, +narrow eyes, his thin lips and his cynically lined face seldom betrayed +the better thoughts within him, if he possessed any at all. In the +Service he was regarded as a humanly perfect mechanism, a bit of +machinery that never failed, the dreaded Nemesis to be set on the trail +of a wrong-doer when all others had failed. + +But this morning, with every bone and muscle in him aching from his long +night of tedious exertion, the chuckle grew into a laugh as he looked +upon the telltale signs in the sand. + +He stretched himself and his tired bones cracked. + +Breault did not think aloud. But he was saying to himself. + +"There, against that rock, Jolly Roger McKay sat There is the imprint of +only one person sitting. The girl was in his arms. Here are little holes +where her outstretched heels rested in the sand. She is wearing shoes +and not moccasins." + +He grinned as he drew his service pack from the two-log cedar raft. + +"Plenty of time now," he continued to think. "They are mine this +time--sure. They believe they have fooled me, and they haven't. That's +fatal. Always." + +Not infrequently, when entirely alone, Breault let a little part of +himself loose, as if freeing a prisoner from bondage for a short time. +For instance, he whistled. It was not an unpleasant whistle, but rather +oddly reminiscent of tender things he remembered away back somewhere; +and as he fried his bacon and steamed a handful of desiccated potatoes +he hummed a song, also rather pleasant to ears that were as closely +attentive as Peter's. + +For Peter had crept up through a tangle of ground-scrub and lay not +twenty paces away, smelling of the bacon hungrily, and watching intently +from his concealment. + +Peter knew the fox and the wolf, but he did not know Breault, and he +did not guess why the man's whistling grew a little louder, nor why his +humming voice grew stronger. But after a time, with his back and not his +face toward Peter, Breault called in the most natural and matter-of-fact +voice in the world, + +"Come on, Peter. Breakfast is ready!" + +Peter's jaws dropped in amazement. And as Breault turned toward him, his +thin face a-grin, and continued to invite him in a most companionable +way, he forgot his concealment entirely and stood up straight, ready +either to fight or fly. + +Breault tossed him a dripping slice of bacon which he held in his hand. +It fell within a foot of Peter's nose, and Peter was ravenously hungry. +The delicious odor of it demoralized his senses and his caution. For a +few seconds he resisted, then thrust himself out toward it an inch at a +time, made a sudden grab, and swallowed it at one gulp. + +Breault laughed outright, and with the first of the sun striking into +his face he did not look like an enemy to Peter. + +A second slice of bacon followed the first, and then a third--until +Breault was frying another mess over the fire. + +"That's partial payment for what you did up on the Barren," he was +saying inside himself. "If it hadn't been for you--" + +He didn't even imagine the rest. Nor after that did he pay the slightest +attention to Peter. For Breault knew dogs possibly even better than he +knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give Peter to understand +that he was interested in him at all. He washed his dishes, whistling +and humming, reloaded his pack on the raft, and once more began poling +his way downstream. + +Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but felt a +further sense of abandonment. After all, this man was not his enemy, and +he was leaving him as his master and mistress had left him. He whined. +And Breault was not out of sight when he trotted down to the sandbar, +and quickly found the scent of Nada and McKay. Purposely Breault had +left a lump of desiccated potato as big as his fist, and this Peter ate +as ravenously as he had eaten the bacon. Then, just as Breault knew he +would do, he began following the raft. + +Breault did not hurry, and he did not rest. There was something almost +mechanically certain in his slow but steady progress, though he knew +it was possible for the canoe to outdistance him three to one. He was +missing nothing along the shore. Three times during the forenoon he saw +where the canoe had landed, and he chuckled each time, thinking of the +old story of the tortoise and the hare. He stopped for not more than two +or three minutes at each of these places, and was then on his way again. + +Peter was fascinated by the unexcited persistency of the man's movement. +He followed it, watched it, and became more and more interested in the +unvarying monotony of it. There were the same up-and-down strokes of +the long pole, the slight swaying of the upstanding body, the same eddy +behind the cedar logs--and occasionally wisps of smoke floating behind +when the pursuer smoked his pipe. Not once did Peter see Breault turn +his head to look behind him. Yet Breault was seeing everything. Five +times that morning he saw Peter, but not once did he make a sign or call +to him. + +He drove his raft ashore at twelve o'clock to prepare his dinner, and +after he had built a fire, and his cooking things were scattered about, +he straightened himself up and called in that same matter-of-fact way, +as if expecting an immediate response, + +"Here, Peter!--Peter!--Come in, Boy!" + +And Peter came. Fighting against the last instinct that held him back he +first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at Breault. Breault +paid no attention to him for a few moments, but sliced his bacon. When +the perfume of the cooking meat reached Peter's nose he edged himself +a little nearer, and with a whimpering sigh flattened himself on his +belly. + +Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, + +"Hungry again, Peter?" he inquired casually. + +He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over from +breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the strips to +Peter. As he did this he was thinking to himself, + +"Why am I doing this? I don't want the dog. He will be a nuisance. He +will eat my grub. But it's fair. I'm paying a debt. He helped to save me +up on the Barren." + +Thus did Breault, the man without mercy, the Nemesis, briefly analyze +the matter. And he cooked five pieces of bacon for Peter. + +During the rest of that day Peter made no effort to keep himself in +concealment as he followed Breault and his raft. This afternoon Breault +shot a fawn, and when he made camp that night both he and Peter feasted +on fresh meat. This broke down the last of Peter's suspicion, and +Breault laid a hand on his head. He did not particularly like the feel +of the hand, but he tolerated it, and Breault grunted aloud, with a note +of commendation in his hard voice. + +"A one-man dog--never anything else." + +Half a dozen times during the day Peter had found the scent of Nada and +Roger where they had come ashore, and from this night on he associated +Breault as a necessary agent in his search for them. And with Breault he +went, instinctively guessing the truth. + +The next day they found where Nada and McKay had abandoned the canoe, +and had struck south through the wilderness. This pleased Breault, who +was tired of his poling. This third night there was a new moon, and +something about it stirred in Peter an impulse to run ahead and overtake +those he was seeking. But a still strong instinct held him to Breault. + +Tonight Breault slept like a dead man on his cedar boughs. He was up and +had a fire built an hour before dawn, and with the first gray streaking +of day was on the trail again. He made no further effort to follow signs +of the pursued, for that was a hopeless task. But he knew how McKay was +heading, and he traveled swiftly, figuring to cover twice the distance +that Nada might travel in the same given time. It was three o'clock in +the afternoon when he came to a great ridge, and on its highest pinnacle +he stopped. + +Peter had grown restless again, and a little more suspicious of Breault. +He was not afraid of him, but all that day he had found no scent of Nada +or Jolly Roger, and slowly the conviction was impinging itself upon him +that he should seek for himself in the wilderness. + +Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. + +"I'll keep my eye on the dog," he thought. "He has a nose, and an +uncanny sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. +I believe McKay and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they have +traveled more slowly than I thought, and haven't passed this ridge; or +it may be they are down there, in the plain. If so I should catch sign +of smoke or fire--in time." + +For an hour he kept watch over the plain through his binoculars, seeking +for a wisp of smoke that might rise at any time over the treetops. He +did not lose sight of Peter, questing out in widening circles below him. +And then, quite unexpectedly, something happened. In the edge of a +tiny meadow an eighth of a mile away Peter was acting strangely. He was +nosing the ground, gulping the wind, twisting eagerly back and forth. +Then he set out, steadily and with unmistakable decision, south and +west. + +In a flash Breault was on his feet, had caught up his pack, and was +running for the meadow. And there he found something in the velvety +softness of the earth which brought a grim smile to his thin lips as he, +too, set out south and west. + +The scent he had found, hours old, drew Peter on until in the edge of +the dusk of evening it brought him to a foot-worn trail leading to the +Hudson's Bay Company post many miles south. In this path, beaten by the +feet of generations of forest dwellers, the hard heels of McKay's boots +had made their imprint, and after this the scent was clearer under +Peter's nose. But with forest-bred caution he still traveled slowly, +though his blood was burning like a pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost +as swiftly followed Breault behind him. + +Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, +lighting his way between the two walls of the forest. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran under deep +forests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch of the Nelson +River flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to meet the promise +of day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, stirring sleepily to the +pulse of an awakening earth. Through it came the first low twitter of +birdsong, a sound that seemed to swell and grow until it filled the +world. Yet was it still a sound of sleep, of half wakefulness, and the +mist was thinning away when, a ruffled little breast sent out its full +throat-song from the tip of a silver birch that overhung the stream. + +The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was no +stir of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there had been +much to wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. But the girl +was no longer there to sing back at him. The cedar and balsam shelter +dripped with morning dew, the place where fire had been was black +and dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song in +triumph. + +Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him. She +lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsong +seemed to come to her from a great distance away. She smiled, and her +lips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was about to answer it. And then +the song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she sank +back into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a long +time, and out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag her. + +There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and she +opened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of Jolly +Roger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he was not +looking at her. It must be late, she thought, for the light was strong +in his face, warm with the first golden flow of the sun. She smiled, and +sat up, and shook her soft curls with a happy little laugh. + +"Roger--" + +And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she saw +Peter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew her breath +short and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through her heart. + +Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in from the +timber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying them with an +odd smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this man was Breault. + +There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat there, in +spite of the fact that for a few moments he neither spoke nor moved. His +eyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, and his lips were like the +blades of two knives set together. Yet he was smiling, or half smiling, +not in a comforting or humorous way, but with exultation and triumph. +From looking at him one would never have guessed that Breault loved his +joke. + +He nodded. + +"Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And--good morning, Mrs. Jolly Roger +McKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is duty. I am +Breault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." + +McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin face +widened. + +"I know, it's hard," he said. "But you've got Peter to thank for it. +Peter led me to you." + +He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with his +automatic. + +"Would you mind stepping out, McKay?" he asked. + +In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, and +Nada rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands. + +"No need of those things, Breault," he said. "I'll go peaceably." + +"Still--it's safer," argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. "Hold +out one hand, please--" + +The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. + +"I'm Breault--not Terence Cassidy," he chuckled. "Never take a chance, +you know. Never!" + +Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet +snapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin. + +"Got you both now, haven't I?" he gloated. "Can't get away, can you?" He +put his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. "How do you like married life, +Mrs. Jolly Roger?" + +McKay's face was whiter than Nada's. + +"You coward!" he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "You low-down miserable +coward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean you are going to +keep my wife ironed like this?" + +"Sure," said Breault. "I'm going to make you pay for some of the trouble +I've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, you know. And a +woman, too. And probably you've lied to her like the very devil." + +"He hasn't!" protested Nada fiercely. "You're a--a--" + +"Say it," nodded Breault good humoredly. "By all means say it, Mrs. +Jolly Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you," and while he +waited he loaded his pipe and lighted it. + +"You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with good +friends like you," he apologized cynically. "In other words you're a +couple of hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of evidence about +you. He says that you, McKay, should be hung the moment we catch you. +He warned me not to take a chance--that you'd slit my throat in the dark +without a prick of conscience. And I'm a valuable man in the Service. It +can't afford to lose me." + +McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer. + +"Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things," Breault +went on. "And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we can have +breakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He saved us up on +the Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about that?" + +He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of birchbark +which he had already placed under dry cedar wood which McKay had +gathered the preceding evening. + +"That's where MY trouble began--up there on the Barren, Mrs. Jolly +Roger," he continued, ignoring McKay. "You see the three of us, +Superintendent Tavish, and Porter--who is now his son-in-law--and I +had a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever in the +history of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of a husband +of yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's only a dog. But +McKay is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful opportunity of dying +in an unusual way by hunting us up and dragging us into his shelter. A +shabby trick, don't you think? And inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish is +about the biggest man in the Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, and +Miss Tavish was saved along with us--why, they reckoned something ought +to be done about it." + +Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel to +the fire. + +"And so--" + +He rose and stood before them again. + +"And so--they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running you +down with a pardon, McKay--a pardon forgiving you for all your sins, +forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!" + +He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, and held +it out now--not to McKay--but to Nada. + +Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile still on +his lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold sort of laughter, +it was as if Breault tortured them with a last horrible joke. Then, +suddenly, Nada seized the envelope and tore it open, while McKay stared +at Breault, believing, and yet not daring to speak. + +It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, that +told him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her hand +she smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came up +grinning behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in the +handcuffs. + +"I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you," +he said, attending to the fire again. "For instance, that red-headed +good-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building a four-room +bungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will be finished by +the time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow Bird, and a redskin who +calls himself Slim Buck, sent word that you will always be welcome in +their hunting grounds. And a pretty little thing named Sun Cloud sent as +many kisses as there are leaves on the trees--" + +He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, glorious eyes +of the girl upon him. + +"But the funniest thing of all is the baby," he went on, preparing to +slice bacon. "They're going to have one pretty soon--Cassidy's wife, I +mean. They've given it a name already. If it's a boy it's Roger--if it's +a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, aren't +they? A couple of young fools--" + +Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life of +Frangois Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in a pair of +arms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and pitiless mouth +a pair of soft red lips pressed for a single thrilling instant. "Well, +I'll be damned," he gasped, dropping his bacon and staggering to his +feet like a man who had been shot. "I'll be--CUSSED!" + +And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young spruce +at the edge of the timber, without saying another word or once looking +behind him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly Roger and +Peter waited, but Frangois Breault did not return. For a strange and +unaccountable man was he, a hard and pitiless man and a deadly hunter +who knew no fear. Yet the wilderness swallowed him, a coward at +last--running away from the two red lips that had kissed him. + +So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of mercy; +and at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew that +something glad had happened, and offered up its gratitude in a sudden +burst of song. + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + +***** This file should be named 4743.txt or 4743.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4743/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks, and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Country Beyond + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4743] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 12, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + +A ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +AUTHOR OF THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN, THE FLAMING FOREST, ETC. + + + + + +A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned the tide of a +mighty battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time destroyed the +homes of a million people. Thus have trivial things played their +potent parts in the history of human lives; yet these things Peter +did not know. + + + + + +THE COUNTRY BEYOND + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Not far from the rugged and storm-whipped north shore of Lake +Superior, and south of the Kaministiqua, yet not as far south as +the Rainy River waterway, there lay a paradise lost in the heart +of a wilderness world--and in that paradise "a little corner of +hell." + +That was what the girl had called it once upon a time, when +sobbing out the shame and the agony of it to herself. That was +before Peter had come to leaven the drab of her life. But the hell +was still there. + +One would not have guessed its existence, standing at the bald top +of Cragg's Ridge this wonderful thirtieth day of May. In the +whiteness of winter one could look off over a hundred square miles +of freezing forest and swamp and river country, with the gleam of +ice-covered lakes here and there, fringed by their black spruce +and cedar and balsam--a country of storm, of deep snows, and men +and women whose blood ran red with the thrill that the hardship +and the never-ending adventure of the wild. + +But this was spring. And such a spring as had not come to the +Canadian north country in many years. Until three days ago there +had been a deluge of warm rains, and since then the sun had +inundated the land with the golden warmth of summer. The last +chill was gone from the air, and the last bit of frozen earth and +muck from the deepest and blackest swamps, North, south, east and +west the wilderness world was a glory of bursting life, of +springtime mellowing into summer. Ridge upon ridge of yellows and +greens and blacks swept away into the unknown distances like the +billows of a vast sea; and between them lay the valleys and +swamps, the lakes and waterways, glad with the rippling song of +running waters, the sweet scents of early flowering time, and the +joyous voice of all mating creatures. + +Just under Cragg's Ridge lay the paradise, a meadow-like sweep of +plain that reached down to the edge of Clearwater Lake, with +clumps of poplars and white birch and darker tapestries of spruce +and balsams dotting it like islets in a sea of verdant green. The +flowers were two weeks ahead of their time and the sweet perfumes +of late June, instead of May, rose up out of the plain, and +already there was nesting in the velvety splashes of timber. + +In the edge of a clump of this timber, flat on his belly, lay +Peter. The love of adventure was in him, and today he had sallied +forth on his most desperate enterprise. For the first time he had +gone alone to the edge of Clearwater Lake, half a mile away; +boldly he had trotted up and down the white strip of beach where +the girl's footprints still remained in the sand, and defiantly he +had yipped at the shimmering vastness of the water, and at the +white gulls circling near him in quest of dead fish flung ashore. +Peter was three months old. Yesterday he had been a timid pup, +shrinking from the bigness and strangeness of everything about +him; but today he had braved the lake trail on his own nerve, and +nothing had dared to come near him in spite of his yipping, so +that a great courage and a great desire were born in him. + +Therefore, in returning, he had paused in the edge of a great +clump of balsams and spruce, and lay flat on his belly, his sharp +little eyes leveled yearningly at the black mystery of its deeper +shadows. The bit of forest filled a cup-like depression in the +plain, and was possibly half a rifle-shot distance from end to +end--but to Peter it was as vast as life itself. And something +urged him to go in. + +And as he lay there, desire and indecision struggling for mastery +within him, no power could have told Peter that destinies greater +than his own were working through the soul of the dog that was in +him, and that on his decision to go in or not to go in--on the +triumph of courage or cowardice--there rested the fates of lives +greater than his own, of men, and women, and of little children +still unborn. A glass of wine once lost a kingdom, a nail turned +the tide of a mighty battle, and a woman's smile once upon a time +destroyed the homes of a million people. Thus have trivial things +played their potent parts in the history of human lives, yet these +things Peter did not know--nor that his greatest hour had come. + +At last he rose from his squatting posture, and stood upon his +feet. He was not a beautiful pup, this Peter Pied-Bot--or Peter +Club-foot, as Jolly Roger McKay--who lived over in the big cedar +swamp--had named him when he gave Peter to the girl. He was, in a +way, an accident and a homely one at that. His father was a blue- +blooded fighting Airedale who had broken from his kennel long +enough to commit a MESALLIANCE with a huge big footed and peace- +loving Mackenzie hound--and Peter was the result. He wore the +fiercely bristling whiskers of his Airedale father at the age of +three months; his ears were flappy and big, his tail was knotted, +and his legs were ungainly and loose, with huge feet at the end of +them--so big and heavy that he stumbled frequently, and fell on +his nose. One pitied him at first--and then loved him. For Peter, +in spite of his homeliness, had the two best bloods of all dog +creation in his veins. Yet in a way it was like mixing nitro- +glycerin with olive oil, or dynamite and saltpeter with milk and +honey. + +Peter's heart was thumping rapidly as he took a step toward the +deeper shadows. He swallowed hard, as if to clear a knot out of +his scrawny throat. But he had made up his mind. Something was +compelling him, and he would go in. Slowly the gloom engulfed him, +and once again the whimsical spirit of fatalism had chosen a +trivial thing to work out its ends in the romance and tragedy of +human lives. + +Grim shadows began to surround Peter, and his ears shot up, and a +scraggly brush stood out along his spine. But he did not bark, as +he had barked along the shore of the lake, and in the green opens. +Twice he looked back to the shimmer of sunshine that was growing +more and more indistinct. As long as he could see this, and knew +that his retreat was open, there still remained a bit of that +courage which was swiftly ebbing in the thickening darkness. But +the third time he looked back the light of the sun was utterly +gone! For an instant the knot rose up in his throat and choked +him, and his eyes popped, and grew like little balls of fire in +his intense desire to see through the gloom. Even the girl, who +was afraid of only one thing in the world, would have paused where +Peter stood, with a little quickening of her heart. For all the +light of the day, it seemed to Peter, had suddenly died out. Over +his head the spruce and cedar and balsam tops grew so thick they +were like a canopy of night. Through them the snow never came in +winter, and under them the light of a blazing sun was only a +ghostly twilight. + +And now, as he stood there, his whole soul burning with a desire +to see his way out, Peter began to hear strange sounds. Strangest +of all, and most fearsome, was a hissing that came and went, +sometimes very near to him, and always accompanied by a grating +noise that curdled his blood. Twice after that he saw the shadow +of the great owl as it swooped over him, and he flattened himself +down, the knot in his throat growing bigger and more choking. And +then he heard the soft and uncanny movement of huge feathered +bodies in the thick shroud of boughs overhead, and slowly and +cautiously he wormed himself around, determined to get back to +sunshine and day as quickly as he could. It was not until he had +made this movement that the real chill of horror gripped at his +heart. Straight behind him, directly in the path he had traveled, +he saw two little green balls of flame! + +It was instinct, and not reason or experience, which told Peter +there was menace and peril in these two tiny spots blazing in the +gloom. He did not know that his own eyes, popping half out of his +head, were equally terrifying in that pit of silence, nor that +from him emanated a still more terrifying thing--the scent of dog. +He trembled on his wobbly legs as the green eyes stared at him, +and his back seemed to break in the middle, so that he sank +helplessly down upon the soft spruce needles, waiting for his +doom. In another flash the twin balls of green fire were gone. In +a moment they appeared again, a little farther away. Then a second +time they were gone, and a third time they flashed back at him--so +distant they appeared like needle-points in the darkness. +Something stupendous rose up in Peter. It was the soul of his +Airedale father, telling him the other thing was running away! And +in the joy of triumph Peter let out a yelp. In that night-infested +place, alive with hiding things, the yelp set loose weird +rustlings in the tangled treetops, strange murmurings of chortling +voices, and the nasty snapping of beaks that held in them the +power to rend Peter's skinny body into a hundred bits. From deeper +in the thicket came the sudden crash of a heavy body, and with it +the chuckling notes of a porcupine, and a HOO-HOO-HOO-EE of +startled inquiry that at first Peter took for a human voice. And +again he lay shivering close to the foot-deep carpet of needles +under him, while his heart thumped against his ribs, and his +whiskers stood out in mortal fear. There followed a weird and +appalling silence, and in that stillness Peter quested vainly for +the sunlight he had lost. And then, indistinctly, but bringing +with it a new thrill, he heard another sound. It was a soft and +distant rippling of running water. He knew that sound. It was +friendly. He had played among the rocks and pebbles and sand where +it was made. His courage came back, and he rose up on his legs, +and made his way toward it. Something inside him told him to go +quietly, but his feet were big and clumsy, and half a dozen times +in the next two minutes he stumbled on his nose. At last he came +to the stream, scarcely wider than a man might have reached +across, rippling and plashing its way through the naked roots of +trees. And ahead of him Peter saw light. He quickened his pace, +until at the last he was running when he came out into the edge of +the meadowy plain, with its sweetness of flowers and green grass +and song of birds, and its glory of blue sky and sun. + +If he had ever been afraid, Peter forgot it now. The choking went +out of his throat, his heart fell back in its place, and the +fierce conviction that he had vanquished everything in the world +possessed him. He peered back into the dark cavern of evergreen +out of which the streamlet gurgled, and then trotted straight away +from it, growling back his defiance as he ran. At a safe distance +he stopped, and faced about. Nothing was following him, and the +importance of his achievements grew upon him. He began to swell; +his fore-legs he planted pugnaciously, he hollowed his back, and +began to bark with all the puppyish ferocity that was in him. And +though he continued to yelp, and pounded the earth with his paws, +and tore up the green grass with his sharp little teeth, nothing +dared to come out of the black forest in answer to his challenge! + +His head was high and his ears cocked jauntily as he trotted up +the slope, and for the first time in his three months of existence +he yearned to give battle to something that was alive. He was a +changed Peter, no longer satisfied with the thought of gnawing +sticks or stones or mauling a rabbit skin. At the crest of the +slope he stopped, and yelped down, almost determined to go back to +that black patch of forest and chase out everything that was in +it. Then he turned toward Cragg's Ridge, and what he saw seemed +slowly to shrink up the pugnaciousness that was in him, and his +stiffened tail drooped until the knotty end of it touched the +ground. + +Three or four hundred yards away, out of the heart of that cup- +like paradise which ran back through a break in the ridge, rose a +spiral of white smoke, and with the sight of that smoke Peter +heard also the chopping of axe. It made him shiver, and yet he +made his way toward it. He was not old enough--nor was it in the +gentle blood of his Mackenzie mother--to know the meaning of hate; +but something was growing swiftly in Peter's shrewd little head, +and he sensed impending danger whenever he heard the sound of the +axe. For always there was associated with that sound the cat-like, +thin-faced man with the red bristle on his upper lip, and the one +eye that never opened but was always closed. And Peter had come to +fear this one eyed man more than he feared any of the ghostly +monsters hidden in the black pit of the forest he had braved that +day. + +But the owls, and the porcupine, and the fiery-eyed fox that had +run away from him, had put into Peter something which was not in +him yesterday, and he did not slink on his belly when he came to +the edge of the cup between the broken ridge, but stood up boldly +on his crooked legs and looked ahead of him. At the far edge of +the cup, under the western shoulder of the ridge, was a thick +scattering of tall cedars and green poplars and white birch, and +in the shelter of these was a cabin built of logs. A lovelier spot +could not have been chosen for the home of man. The hollow, from +where Peter stood, was a velvety carpet of green, thickly strewn +with flowers and ferns, sweet with the scent of violets and wild +honey-suckle, and filled with the song of birds. Through the +middle of it purled a tiny creek which disappeared between the +ragged shoulders of rock, and close to this creek stood the cabin, +its log walls smothered under a luxuriant growth of wood-vine. But +Peter's quizzical little eyes were not measuring the beauty of the +place, nor were his ears listening to the singing of birds, or the +chattering of a red-squirrel on a stub a few yards away. He was +looking beyond the cabin, to a chalk-white mass of rock that rose +like a giant mushroom in the edge of the trees--and he was +listening to the ringing of the axe, and straining his ears to +catch the sound of a voice. + +It was the voice he wanted most of all, and when this did not come +he choked back a whimper in his throat, and went down to the +creek, and waded through it, and came up cautiously behind the +cabin, his eyes and ears alert and his loosely jointed legs ready +for flight at a sign of danger. He wanted to set up his sharp +yipping signal for the girl, but the menace of the axe choked back +his desire. At the very end of the cabin, where the wood-vine grew +thick and dense, Peter had burrowed himself a hiding-place, and +into this he skulked with the quickness of a rat getting away from +its enemies. From this protecting screen he cautiously poked forth +his whiskered face, to make what inventory he could of his chances +for supper and a safe home-coming. + +And as he looked forth his heart gave a sudden jump. + +It was the girl, and not the man who was using the axe today. At +the big wood-pile half a stone's throw away he saw the shimmer of +her brown curls in the sun, and a glimpse of her white face as it +was turned for an instant toward the cabin. In his gladness he +would have leaped out, but the curse of a voice he had learned to +dread held him back. + +A man had come out of the cabin, and close behind the man, a +woman. The man was a long, lean, cadaverous-faced creature, and +Peter knew that the devil was in him as he stood there at the +cabin door. His breath, if one had stood close enough to smell it, +was heavy with whiskey. Tobacco juice stained the corners of his +mouth, and his one eye gleamed with an animal-like exultation as +he nodded toward the girl with the shining curls + +"Mooney says he'll pay seven-fifty for her when he gets his tie- +money from the Government, an' he paid me fifty down," he said. +"It'll help pay for the brat's board these last ten years--an' +mebby, when it comes to a show-down, I can stick him for a +thousand." + +The woman made no answer. She was, in a way, past answering with a +mind of her own. The man, as he stood there, was wicked and cruel, +every line in his ugly face and angular body a line of sin. The +woman was bent, broken, a wreck. In her face there was no sign of +a living soul. Her eyes were dull, her heart burned out, her hands +gnarled with toil under the slavedom of a beast. Yet even Peter, +quiet as a mouse where he lay, sensed the difference between them. +He had seen the girl and this woman sobbing in each other's arms. +And often he had crawled to the woman's feet, and occasionally her +hand had touched him, and frequently she had given him things to +eat. But it was seldom he heard her voice when the man was near. + +The man was biting off a chunk of black tobacco. Suddenly he +asked, + +"How old is she, Liz?" + +And the woman answered in a strange and husky voice. + +"Seventeen the twelfth day of this month." + +The man spat. + +"Mooney ought to pay a thousand. We've had her better'n ten years +--an' Mooney's crazy as a loon to git her. He'll pay!" + +"Jed--" The woman's voice rose above its hoarseness. "Jed--it +ain't right!" + +The man laughed. He opened his mouth wide, until his yellow fangs +gleamed in the sun, and the girl with the axe paused for a moment +in her work, and flung back her head, staring at the two before +the cabin door. + +"Right?" jeered the man. "Right? That's what you been preachin' me +these last ten years 'bout whiskey-runnin,' but it ain't made me +stop sellin' whiskey, has it? An' I guess it ain't a word that'll +come between Mooney and me--not if Mooney gits his thousand." +Suddenly he turned upon her, a hand half raised to strike. "An' if +you whisper a word to her--if y' double-cross me so much as the +length of your little finger--I'll break every bone in your body, +so help me God! You understand? You won't say anything to her?" + +The woman's uneven shoulders drooped lower. + +"I won't say ennything, Jed. I--promise." + +The man dropped his uplifted hand with a harsh grunt. + +"I'll kill y' if you do," he warned. + +The girl had dropped her axe, and was coming toward them. She was +a slim, bird-like creature, with a poise to her head and an up- +tilt to her chin which warned that the man had not yet beaten her +to the level of the woman. She was dressed in a faded calico, +frayed at the bottom, and with the sleeves bobbed off just above +the elbows of her slim white arms. Her stockings were mottled with +patches and mends, and her shoes were old, and worn out at the +toes. + +But to Peter, worshipping her from his hiding place, she was the +most beautiful thing in the world. Jolly Roger had said the same +thing, and most men--and women, too--would have agreed that this +slip of a girl possessed a beauty which it would take a long time +for unhappiness and torture to crush entirely out of her. Her eyes +were as blue as the violets Peter had thrust his nose among that +day. And her hair was a glory, loosed by her exertion from its +bondage of faded ribbon, and falling about her shoulders and +nearly to her waist in a mass of curling brown tresses that at +times had made even Jed Hawkins' one eye light of with admiration. +And yet, even in those times, he hated her, and more than once his +bony fingers had closed viciously in that mass of radiant hair, +but seldom could he wring a scream of pain from Nada. Even now, +when she could see the light of the devil in his one gleaming eye, +it was only her flesh--and not her soul--that was afraid. + +But the strain had begun to show its mark. In the blue of her eyes +was the look of one who was never free of haunting visions, her +cheeks were pallid, and a little too thin, and the vivid redness +of her lips was not of health and happiness, but a touch of the +color which should have been in her face, and which until now had +refused to die. + +She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm. + +"I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her," she +cried in a fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming +loathing and hatred at him. "If you hit her once more--something +is going to happen. If you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand +it. But--look at her! You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled +her--an' you oughta die!" + +The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him +Peter felt something he had never felt before. For the first time +in his life he had no desire to run away from the man. Something +rose up from his bony little chest, and grew in his throat, until +it was a babyish snarl so low that no human ears could hear it. +And in his hiding-place his needle-like fangs gleamed under +snarling lips. + +But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his +fingers in the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if +something was choking him, and turned away with a toss of his +arms. + +"You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?" he said, +and disappeared around the end of the cabin. + +The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but +she was trembling. + +"I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any +more," she comforted. "If he does, I'll end him. I will! I'll +bring the police. I'll show 'em the places where he hides his +whiskey. I'll--I'll put him in jail, if I die for it!" + +The woman's bony hands clutched at one of Nada's. + +"No, no, you mustn't do that," she pleaded. "He was good to me +once, a long time ago, Nada. It ain't Jed that's bad--it's the +whiskey. You mustn't tell on him, Nada--you mustn't!" + +"I've promised you I won't--if he don't hit you any more. He kin +shake me by the hair if he wants to. But if he hits you--" + +She drew a deep breath, and also passed around the end of the +cabin. + +For a few moments Peter listened. Then he slipped back through the +tunnel he had made under the wood-vine, and saw Nada walking +swiftly toward the break in the ridge. He followed, so quietly +that she was through the break, and was picking her way among the +tumbled masses of rock along the farther foot of the ridge, before +she discovered his presence. With a glad cry she caught him up in +her arms and hugged him against her breast. + +"Peter, Peter, where have you been?" she demanded. "I thought +something had happened to you, and I've been huntin' for you, and +so has Roger--I mean Mister Jolly Roger." + +Peter was hugged tighter, and he hung limply until his mistress +came to a thick little clump of dwarf balsams hidden among the +rocks. It was their "secret place," and Peter had come to sense +the fact that its mystery was not to be disclosed. Here Nada had +made her little bower, and she sat down now upon a thick rug of +balsam boughs, and held Peter out in front of her, squatted on his +haunches. A new light had come into her eyes, and they were +shining like stars. There was a flush in her cheeks, her red lips +were parted, and Peter, looking up--and being just dog--could +scarcely measure the beauty of her. But he knew that something had +happened, and he tried hard to understand. + +"Peter, he was here ag'in today--Mister Roger--Mister Jolly +Roger," she cried softly, the pink in her cheeks growing brighter. +"And he told me I was pretty!" + +She drew a deep breath, and looked out over the rocks to the +valley and the black forest beyond. And her fingers, under Peter's +scrawny armpits, tightened until he grunted. + +"And he asked me if he could touch my hair--mind you he asked me +that, Peter!--And when I said 'yes' he just put his hand on it, as +if he was afraid, and he said it was beautiful, and that I must +take wonderful care of it!" + +Peter saw a throbbing in her throat. + +"Peter--he said he didn't want to do anything wrong to me, that +he'd cut off his hand first. He said that! And then he said--if I +didn't think it was wrong--he'd like to kiss me--" + +She hugged Peter up close to her again. + +"And--I told him I guessed it wasn't wrong, because I liked him, +and nobody else had ever kissed me, and--Peter--he didn't kiss me! +And when he went away he looked so queer--so white-like--and +somethin' inside me has been singing ever since. I don't know what +it is, Peter. But it's there!" + +And then, after a moment. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I wish Mister Jolly Roger would take us +away!" + +The thought drew a tightening to her lips, and the pucker of a +frown between her eyes, and she sat Peter down beside her and +looked over the valley to the black forest, in the heart of which +was Jolly Roger's cabin. + +"It's funny he don't want anybody to know he's there, ain't it--I +mean--isn't it, Peter?" she mused. "He's livin' in the old shack +Indian Tom died in last winter, and I've promised not to tell. He +says it's a great secret, and that only you, and I, and the +Missioner over at Sucker Creek know anything about it. I'd like to +go over and clean up the shack for him. I sure would." + +Peter, beginning to nose among the rocks, did not see the flash of +fire that came slowly into the blue of the girl's eyes. She was +looking at her ragged shoes, at the patched stockings, at the +poverty of her faded dress, and her fingers clenched in her lap. + +"I'd do it--I'd go away--somewhere--and never come back, if it +wasn't for her," she breathed. "She treats me like a witch most of +the time, but Jed Hawkins made her that way. I kin remember--" + +Suddenly she jumped up, and flung back her head defiantly, so that +her hair streamed out in a sun-filled cloud in a gust of wind that +came up the valley. + +"Some day, I'll kill 'im," she cried to the black forest across +the plain. "Some day--I will!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering +in her brain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her +unhappiness, so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of +it. But today the betrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in +a hard little voice she had told Jolly Roger--the stranger who had +come into the black forest--how her mother and father had died of +the same plague more than ten years ago, and how Jed Hawkins and +his woman had promised to keep her for three silver fox skins +which her father had caught before the sickness came. That much +the woman had confided in her, for she was only six when it +happened. And she had not dared to look at Jolly Roger when she +told him of what had passed since then, so she saw little of the +hardening in his face as he listened. But he had blown his nose-- +hard. It was a way with Jolly Roger, and she had not known him +long enough to understand what it meant. And a little later he had +asked her if he might touch her hair--and his big hand had lain +for a moment on her head, as gently as a woman's. + +Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that +hand. It had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as +Peter's vanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the +same for him. Peter was no longer afraid, and the girl was no +longer afraid, and together they went along the slope of the +ridge, until they came to a dried-up coulee which was choked with +a wild upheaval of rock. Here Peter suddenly stopped, with his +nose to the ground, and then his legs stiffened, and for the first +time the girl heard the babyish growl in his throat. For a moment +she stood very still, and listened, and faintly there came to her +a sound, as if someone was scraping rock against rock. The girl +drew in a quick breath; she stood straighter, and Peter--looking +up--saw her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And then she bent +down, and picked up a jagged stick. + +"We'll go up, Peter," she whispered. "It's one of his hiding- +places!" + +There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no +longer afraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating +little heart as he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl +on tip-toe, and Peter making no sound with his soft footpads, so +that Jed Hawkins was still on his knees, with his back toward +them, when they came out into a square of pebbles and sand between +two giant masses of rock. Yesterday, or the day before, both Peter +and Nada would have slunk back, for Jed was at his devil's work, +and only evil could come to the one who discovered him at it. He +had scooped out a pile of sand from under the edge of the biggest +rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy leather flasks from a jug +which he had pulled from the hole. And then he paused to drink. +They could hear the liquor gurgling down his throat. + +Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot +the man whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he +saw who it was, and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, +his two big fists clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her. + +"You damned--spy!" he cried chokingly. "If you was a man--I'd kill +you!" + +The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spots +flamed in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her +eyes. And there was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, +as she said tauntingly. + +"If I was a man, Jed Hawkins--you'd run!" + +He took a step toward her. + +"You'd run," she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a +tighter grip of her stick. "I ain't ever seen you hit anything but +a woman, an' a girl, or some poor animal that didn't dare bite +back. You're a coward, Jed Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey- +sellin' coward--and you oughta die!" + +Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this +moment between the two big rocks. It held something in the air, +like the impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the +world. He forgot himself, and looked up at his mistress, a +wonderful, slim little thing standing there at last unafraid +before the future--and in his dog heart and soul a part of the +truth came to him, and he planted his big feet squarely in front +of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had never snarled before +in his life. + +And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he +had humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without +suspicion until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After +that--after he had delivered her to the other's shack--it would +all be up to Mooney, he figured. And this was what had come of his +peace-loving efforts! She was taking advantage of him, defying +him, spying upon him--the brat he had fed and brought up for ten +years! Her beauty as she stood there did not hold him back. It was +punishment she needed, a beating, a hair-pulling, until there was +no breath left in her impudent body. He sprang forward, and Peter +let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her stick. But she was a +moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his right hand shot +forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of her hair. + +It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, +this hour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. +All things in the world were blotted out for him except one--the +six inches of naked shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and +his shoe. He dove in. His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, +sank into it. And a wild and terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins +as he loosed the girl's hair. Peter heard the yell, and his teeth +sank deeper in the flesh of the first thing he had ever hated. It +was the girl, more than Peter, who realized the horror of what +followed. The man bent down and his powerful fingers closed round +Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his wind suddenly shut off, +and his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew back the arm that held +him, as he would have drawn it back to fling a stone. + +With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, +and Peter went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him +fiercely across the face, and in that same moment there was a +sickening, crushing thud as Peter's loosely-jointed little body +struck against the face of the great rock. When Nada turned Peter +was groveling in the sand, his hips and back broken down, but his +bright eyes were on her, and without a whimper or a whine he was +struggling to drag himself toward her. Only Jolly Roger could tell +the story of how Peter's mother had died for a woman, and in this +moment it must have been that her spirit entered into Peter's +soul, for the pain of his terrible hurt was forgotten in his +desire to drag himself back to the feet of the girl, and die +facing her enemy--the man. He did not know that he was dragging +his broken body only an inch at a time through the sand. But the +girl saw the terrible truth, and with a cry of agony which all of +Hawkin's torture could not have wrung from her she ran to him, and +fell upon her knees, and gathered him tenderly in her arms. Then, +in a flash, she was on her feet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little +demon. + +"For that--I'll kill you!" she panted. "I will. I'll kill you!" + +The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, +but he was coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, +and as the man's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind +her a wild fear possessed her--fear for Peter, and not for +herself. Very soon Hawkins was left behind, cursing at the +futility of the pursuit, and at the fate that had robbed him of an +eye. + +Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran +Nada, her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching +Peter to her breast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and +piteously, just as once upon a time she had heard a baby cry--a +little baby that was dying. And her soul cried out in agony, for +she knew that Peter, too, was dying. And as she stumbled onward-- +on toward the black forest, she put her face down to Peter and +sobbed over and over again his name. + +"Peter--Peter--Peter--" + +And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her +voice even in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed +her cheek, and the girl's breath came in a great sob as she +staggered on. + +"It's all right now, Peter," she crooned. "It's all right, baby. +He won't hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to +Mister Roger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy-- +" + +Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside +her, just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when +the baby died. For their grief, in God's reckoning of things, was +the same; and little Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing +that had made them one in flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face +closer in her neck, crying softly to her, and content to die there +close to the warmth of the creature he loved. + +"Don't cry, baby," she soothed. "Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll +soon be all right--all right--" And the sob came again into her +throat, and clung there like a choking fist, until they came to +the edge of the big forest. + +She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not +until then did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully +that there was no difference at all between the dying baby's face +and dying Peter's, except that one had been white and soft, and +Peter's was different--and covered with hair. + +"God'll take care o' you, Peter," she whispered. "He will--God, +'n' me, and Mister Roger--" + +She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not +even God, would ever take care of Peter again--in life. His still +little face and the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. +For Peter's back was broken, and he was going--going even now--as +she ran moaningly with him through the deep aisles of the forest. +But before he died, before his heart stopped beating in her arms, +she wanted to reach Jolly Roger's friendly cabin, in the big swamp +beyond the creek. It was not that he could save Peter, but +something told her that Jolly Roger's presence would make Peter's +dying easier, both for Peter and for her, for in this first glad +spring of her existence the stranger in the forest shack had +brought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her life; and they +had set him up, she and Peter, as they would have set up a god on +a shrine. + +So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good +half mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She +was staggering, and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and +when she saw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she +remembered what Jolly Roger had said about the flooding of the +creek, and her eyes widened. Then she looked down at Peter, +piteously limp and still in her arms, and she drew a quick breath +and made up her mind. She knew that at this shallow place the +water could not be more than up to her waist, even at the flood- +tide. But it was running like a mill-race. + +She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them +there for a moment, and kissed him. + +"We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. "We ain't afraid, are we, +baby? We'll make it--sure--sure--we'll make it--" + +She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to +her knees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the +water seemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and +tugging at her as the water deepened to her waist. In another +moment she was fighting, fighting to hold her feet, struggling to +keep the forces from driving her downstream. And then came the +supreme moment, close to the shore for which she was striving. She +felt herself giving away, and she cried out brokenly for Peter not +to be afraid. And then something drove pitilessly against her +body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter close with the +other--and caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded like a +handle from the black and slippery log the flood-water had brought +down upon her. + +"We're all right, Peter," she cried, even in that moment when she +knew she had lost. "We're all ri--" + +And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with +her went Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush +of the flood. + +Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow +she was not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been +of the flood-rush of waters that smashed down the creeks in +springtime. An inundating roar was over her, under her, and all +about her; it beat in a hissing thunder against the drums of her +ears, yet it did not frighten her as she had sometimes been +frightened. Even in that black chaos which was swiftly suffocating +the life from her, unspoken words of cheer for Peter formed in her +heart, and she struggled to hold him to her, while with her other +hand she fought to raise herself by the stub of the log to which +she clung. For she was not thinking of him as Peter, the dog, but +as something greater--something that had fought for her that day, +and because of her had died. + +Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big +log, turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space +her weight had destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the +water swirled but did not rush, her brown head appeared, and then +her white face, and with a last mighty effort she thrust up Peter +so that his dripping body was on the log. Sobbingly she filled her +lungs with air. But the drench of water and her hair blinded her +so that she could not see. And she found all at once that the +strength had gone from her body. Vainly she tried to drag herself +up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised herself a little, +so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like a mighty arm +from the log. + +With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was +gone, and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins +himself had often pulled it, and for a few moments the current +pounded against her body and the tree-limb swayed back and forth +as it held her there by her hair. + +If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She +could see now, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool +into which the log was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, +suddenly, her heart seemed to stop its beating, and her eyes +widened, and in that moment of astounding miracle she forgot that +she was hanging by her hair in the ugly lip of the flood, with +slippery hands beating and pulling at her from below. For she saw +Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making his way toward the +shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be his dead body +drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his head was +above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling-- + +Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something +gave way. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged +into the current, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the +pool struck out with all her last strength until her feet touched +bottom, and she could stand. She wiped the water from her eyes, +sobbing in her breathless fear--her mighty hope. Peter had reached +the shore. He had dragged himself out, and had crumpled down in a +broken heap--but he was facing her, his bright eyes wide open and +questing for her. Slowly Nada went to him. Until now, when it was +all over, she had not realized how helplessly weak she was. +Something was turning round and round in her head, and she was so +dizzy that the shore swam before her eyes, and it seemed quite +right to her that Peter should be alive--and not dead. She was +still in a foot of water when she fell on her knees and dragged +herself the rest of the way to him, and gathered him in her arms +again, close up against her wet, choking breast. + +And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a +twig overhead; and the water that a little while before had sung +of death rippled with its old musical joy, and about them the +birds sang, and very near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels +chattered and played in a mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair +brightened in the sun, and began to ripple into curls at the end, +and Peter's bristling whiskers grew dry--so that half an hour +after she had dragged herself out of the water there was a new +light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her cheeks that was like +the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a rose. + +"We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter," she +whispered, a little thrill in her voice. + +She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked up +Peter--and winced when he gave a little moan. + +"He'll fix you, Peter," she comforted. "An' it'll be so nice over +here--with him." + +Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun- +filled forest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world +filled her soul, and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill +in the touch of the soft earth under her feet. + +"Flowers," she cried softly. "Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, +Peter--" She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of +light and life about her. And then, "I guess we'll go to Mister +Jolly Roger now," she said. + +She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and +rebellious glory about her, and the violet light grew a little +darker in her eyes, and the color a bit deeper in her cheeks as +she walked on into the forest over the faintly worn foot-trail +that led to the old cabin where Jolly Roger was keeping himself +away from the eyes of men. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +From the little old cabin of dead Indian Tom, built in a grassy +glade close to the shore of Sucker Creek, came the sound of a +man's laughter. In this late afternoon the last flooding gold of +the sun filled the open door of the poplar shack. The man's +laughter, like the sun on the mottled tapestry of the poplar-wood, +was a heart-lightening thing there on the edge of the great swamp +that swept back for miles to the north and west. It was the sort +of laughter one seldom hears from a man, not riotous of over-bold, +but a big, clean laughter that came from the soul out. It was an +infectious thing. It drove the gloom out of the blackest night. It +dispelled fear, and if ever there were devils lurking in the edge +of old Indian Tom's swamp they slunk away at the sound of it. And +more than once, as those who lived in tepee and cabin and far-away +shack could testify, that laugh had driven back death itself. + +In the shack, this last day of May afternoon, stood leaning over a +rough table the man of the laugh--Roger McKay, known as Jolly +Roger, outlaw extraordinary, and sought by the men of every Royal +Northwest Mounted Police patrol north of the Height of Land. + +It was incongruous and inconceivable to think of him as an outlaw, +as he stood there in the last glow of the sun--an outlaw with the +weirdest and strangest record in all the northland hung up against +his name. He was not tall, and neither was he short, and he was as +plump as an apple and as rosy as its ripest side. There was +something cherubic in the smoothness and the fullness of his face, +the clear gray of his eyes, the fine-spun blond of his short- +cropped hair, and the plumpness of his hands and half-bared arms. +He was a priestly, well-fed looking man, was this Jolly Roger, +rotund and convivial in all his proportions, and some in great +error would have called him fat. But it was a strange kind of +fatness, as many a man on the trail could swear to. And as for +sin, or one sign of outlawry, it could not be found in any mark +upon him--unless one closed his eyes to all else and guessed it by +the belt and revolver holster which he wore about his rotund +waist. In every other respect Jolly Roger appeared to be not only +a harmless creature, but one especially designed by the Creator of +things to spread cheer and good-will wherever he went. His age, if +he had seen fit to disclose it, was thirty-four. + +There seemed, at first, to be nothing that even a contented man +might laugh at in the cabin, and even less to bring merriment from +one on whose head a price was set--unless it was the delicious +aroma of a supper just about ready to be served. On a little stove +in the farthest corner of the shack the breasts of two spruce +partridges were turning golden brown in a skittle, and from the +broken neck of a coffee pot a rich perfume was rising with the +steam. Piping hot in the open oven half a dozen baked potatoes +were waiting in their crisp brown jackets. + +From the table Jolly Roger turned, rubbing his hands and chuckling +as he went for a third time to a low shelf built against the cabin +wall. There he carefully raised a mass of old papers from a box, +and at the movement there came a protesting squeak, and a little +brown mouse popped up to the edge of it and peered at him with a +pair of bright little questioning eyes. + +"You little devil!" he exulted. "You nervy little devil!" + +He raised the papers higher, and again looked upon his discovery +of half an hour ago. In a soft nest lay four tiny mice, still +naked and blind, and as he lowered the mass of papers the mother +burrowed back to them, and he could hear her squeaking and +chirruping to the little ones, as if she was trying to tell them +not to be afraid of this man, for she knew him very well, and it +wasn't in his mind to hurt them. And Jolly Roger, as he returned +to the setting of his table, laughed again--and the laugh rolled +out into the golden sunset, and from the top of a spruce at the +edge of the creek a big blue-jay answered it in a riotous +challenge. + +But at the bottom of that laugh, if one could have looked a bit +deeper, was something more than the naked little mice in the nest +of torn-up paper. Today happiness had strangely come this gay- +hearted freebooter's way, and he might have reached out, and +seized it, and have kept it for his own. But in the hour of his +opportunity he had refused it--because he was an outlaw--because +strong within him was a peculiar code of honor all his own. There +was nothing of man-made religion in the soul of Roger McKay. +Nature was his god; its manifestations, its life, and the air it +gave him to breathe were the pages which made up the Book that +guided him. And within the last hour, since the sun had begun to +drop behind the tips of the tallest trees, these things had told +him that he was a fool for turning away from the one great thing +in all life--simply because his own humors of existence had made +him an outcast and hunted by the laws of men. So the change had +come, and for a space his soul was filled with the thrill of song +and laughter. + +Half an hour ago he believed that he had definitely made up his +mind. He had forced himself into forgetfulness of laws he had +broken, and the scarlet-coated men who were ever on the watch for +his trail. They would never seek him here, in the wilderness +country close to the edge of civilization, and time, he had told +himself in that moment of optimism, would blot out both his +identity and his danger. Tomorrow he would go over to Cragg's +Ridge again, and then-- + +His mind was crowded with a vision of blue eyes, of brown curls +glowing in the pale sun, of a wistful, wide-eyed little face +turned up to him, and red lips that said falteringly, "I don't +think it's wrong for you to kiss me--if you want to, Mister Jolly +Roger!" + +Boldly he had talked about it to the bright-eyed little mother- +mouse who peered at him now and then over the edge of her box. + +"You're a little devil of iniquity yourself," he told her. "You're +a regular Mrs. Captain Kidd, and you've eaten my cheese, and +chawed my snowshoe laces, and robbed me of a sock to make your +nest. I ought to catch you in a trap, or blow your head off. But I +don't. I let you live--and have a fam'ly. And it's you who have +given me the Big Idea, Mrs. Captain Kidd. You sure have! You've +told me I've got a right to have a nest of my own, and I'm going +to have it--an' in that nest is going to be the sweetest, +prettiest little angel that God Almighty ever forgot to make into +a flower! Yessir. And if the law comes--" + +And then, suddenly, the vision clouded, and there came into Jolly +Roger's face the look of a man who knew--when he stood the truth +out naked--that he was facing a world with his back to the wall. + +And now, as the sun went down, and his supper waited--that cloud +which came to blot out his picture grew deeper and more sinister, +and the chill of it entered his heart. He turned from his table to +the open door, and his fingers drew themselves slowly into +clenched fists, and he looked out quietly and steadily into his +world. The darkening depths of the forest reached out before his +eyes, mottled and painted in the fading glory of the sun. It was +his world, his everything--father, mother, God. In it he was born, +and in it he knew that some day he would die. He loved it, +understood it, and night and day, in sunshine and storm, its +mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company. But it held no +message for him now. And his ears scarcely heard the raucous +scolding of the blue-jay in the fire-tipped crest of the tall +black spruce. + +And then that something which was bigger than desire came up +within him, and forced itself in words between his grimly set +lips. + +"She's only a--a kid," he said, a fierce, low note of defiance in +his voice. "And I--I'm a damned pirate, and there's jails waiting +for me, and they'll get me sooner or later, sure as God lets me +live!" + +He turned from the sun to his shadowing cabin, and for a moment a +ghost of a smile played in his face as he heard the little mother- +mouse rustling among her papers. + +"We can't do it," he said. "We simply can't do it, Mrs. Captain +Kidd. She's had hell enough without me taking her into another. +And it'd be that, sooner or later. It sure would, Mrs. Captain +Kidd. But I'm glad, mighty glad, to think she'd let me kiss her-- +if I wanted to. Think of that, Mrs. Captain Kidd!--if I wanted to. +Oh, Lord!" + +And the humor of it crept in alongside the tragedy in Jolly +Roger's heart, and he chuckled as he bent over his partridge +breasts. + +"If I wanted to," he repeated. "Why, if I had a life to give, I'd +give it--to kiss her just once! But, as it happens, Mrs. Captain +Kidd--" + +Jolly Roger's breath cut itself suddenly short, and for an instant +he grew tense as he bent over the stove. His philosophy had taught +him one thing above all others, that he was a survival of the +fittest--only so long as he survived. And he was always guarding +against the end. His brain was keen, his ears quick, and every +fibre in him trained to its duty of watchfulness. And he knew, +without turning his head, that someone was standing in the doorway +behind him. There had come a faint noise, a shadowing of the +fading sun-glow on the wall, the electrical disturbance of another +presence, gazing at him quietly, without motion, and without +sound. After that first telegraphic shock of warning he stabbed +his fork into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled +loudly--and then with a lightning movement was facing the door, +his forty-four Colt leveled waist-high at the intruder. + +Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his +side. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +He stared. And the face in the doorway stared back at him. + +"Nada!" he gasped. "Good Lord, I thought--I thought--" He +swallowed as he tried to lie. "I thought--it might be a bear!" + +He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little +figure of Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet. Her +blue eyes were shining at him, wide and startled. Her cheeks were +flushed. A strange look had frozen on her parted red lips, and her +hair was falling loose in a cloud of curling brown tresses about +her shoulders. Jolly Roger, dreaming of her in his insane +happiness of a few minutes ago, sensed nothing beyond the beauty +and the unexpectedness of her in this first moment. Then--swiftly +--he saw the other thing. The last glow of the sun glistened in her +wet hair, her dress was sodden and clinging, and little pools of +water were widening slowly about her ragged shoes. These things he +might have expected, for she had to cross the creek. But it was +the look in her eyes that startled him, as she stood there with +Peter, the mongrel pup, clasped tightly in her arms. + +"Nada, what's happened?" he asked, laying his gun on the table. +"You fell in the creek--" + +"It--it's Peter," she cried, with a sobbing break in her voice. +"We come on Jed Hawkins when he was diggin' up some of his +whiskey, and he was mad, and pulled my hair, and Peter bit him-- +and then he picked up Peter and threw him against a rock--and he's +terribly hurt! Oh, Mister Jolly Roger--" + +She held out the pup to him, and Peter whimpered as Jolly Roger +took his wiry little face between his hands, and then lifted him +gently. The girl was sobbing, with passionate little catches in +her breath, but there were no tears in her eyes as they turned for +an instant from Peter to the gun on the table. + +"If I'd had that," she cried, "I'd hev killed him!" + +Jolly Roger's face was coldly gray as he knelt down on the floor +and bent over Peter. + +"He--pulled your hair, you say?" + +"I--forgot," she whispered, close at his shoulder. "I wasn't goin' +to tell you that. But it didn't hurt. It was Peter--" + +He felt the damp caress of her curls upon his neck as she bent +over him. + +"Please tell me, Mister Jolly Roger--is he hurt--bad?" + +With the tenderness of a woman Jolly Roger worked his fingers over +Peter's scrawny little body. And Peter, whimpering softly, felt +the infinite consolation of their touch. He was no longer afraid +of Jed Hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is +simple in its measurement of blessings, and to Peter it was a +great happiness to lie here, broken and in pain, with the face of +his beloved mistress over him and Jolly Roger's hands working to +mend his hurt. He whimpered when Jolly Roger found the broken +place, and he cried out like a little child when there came the +sudden quick snapping of a bone--but even then he turned his head +so that he could thrust out his hot tongue against the back of his +man-friend's hand. And Jolly Roger, as he worked, was giving +instructions to the girl, who was quick as a bird to bring him +cloth which she tore into bandages, so that at the end of ten +minutes Peter's right hind leg was trussed up so tightly that it +was as stiff and as useless as a piece of wood. + +"His hip was dislocated and his leg-bone broken," said Jolly Roger +when he had finished. "He is all right now, and inside of three +weeks will be on his feet again." + +He lifted Peter gently, and made him a nest among the blankets in +his bunk. And then, still with that strange, gray look in his +face, he turned to Nada. + +She was standing partly facing the door, her eyes straight on him. +And Jolly Roger saw in them that wonderful something which had +given his storm-beaten soul a glimpse of paradise earlier that +day. They were blue, so blue that he had never seen violets like +them--and he knew that in her heart there was no guile behind +which she could hide the secret they were betraying. A yearning +such as had never before come into his life urged him to open his +arms to her, and he knew that she would have come into them; but a +still mightier will held them tense and throbbing at his side. Her +cheeks were aflame as she looked at him, and he told himself that +God could not have made a lovelier thing, as she stood there in +her worn dress and her ragged shoes, with that light of glory in +her face, and her damp hair waving and curling about her in the +last light of the day. + +"I knew you'd fix him, Mister-Roger," she whispered, a great pride +and faith and worship in the low thrill of her voice. "I knew it!" + +Something choked Jolly Roger, and he turned to the stove and began +spearing the crisp brown potatoes on the end of a fork. And he +said, with his back toward her, + +"You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat--and then I'll +go home with you, as far as the Ridge." + +Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and +comfortable in Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face +on his fore-paws his bright eyes followed every movement of these +two who so completely made up his world. He heard that sweet +little laugh which came only now and then from Nada's lips, when +for a moment she was happy; he saw her shake out her hair in the +glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted, and he observed Jolly +Roger standing at the stove--looking at her as she did it--a +worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes turned +toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to +nothing of definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed +happiness, for--somehow--there was always that feeling when they +were with Jolly Roger, no matter whether the sun was shining or +the day was dark and filled with gloom. Many times in his short +life he had seen grief and tears in Nada's face, and had seen her +cringe and hide herself at the vile cursing and witch-like voice +of the man and woman back in the other cabin. But there was +nothing like that in Jolly Roger's company. He had two eyes, and +he was not always cursing, and he did not pull Nada's hair--and +Peter loved him from the bottom of his soul. And he knew that his +mistress loved him, for she had told him so, and there was always +a different look in her eyes when she was with Jolly Roger, and it +was only then that she laughed in that glad little way--as she was +laughing now. + +Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, +her face flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring +his coffee. And then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the +nicest of the partridge breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes +calm and quiet as he looked at the adorable sweetness of her +across the table from him. To Nada there was nothing of shame in +what lay behind the happiness in the violet radiance of her eyes. +Jolly Roger had brought to her the only happiness that had ever +come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed Hawkins and his +witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought of this +stranger who for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's +cabin. And, like Peter, she loved him. The innocence of it lay +naked in her eyes. + +"Nada," said Jolly Roger. "You're seventeen--" + +"Goin' on eighteen," she corrected quickly. "I was seventeen two +weeks ago!" + +The quick, undefined little note of eagerness in her voice made +his heart thump. He nodded, and smiled. + +"Yes, going on eighteen," he said. "And pretty soon some young +fellow will come along, and see you, and marry you--" + +"O-o-o-h-h-h!" + +It was a little, strange cry that came to her lips, and Jolly +Roger saw a quick throbbing in her bare throat. and her eyes were +so wide-open and startled as she looked at him that he felt, for a +moment, as if the resolution in his soul was giving way. + +"Where are you goin', Mister Roger?" + +"Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere--not for a time, at least. But +you--you'll surely be going away with some one--some day." + +"I won't," she denied hotly. "I hate men! I hate all but you, +Mister Jolly Roger. And if you go away--" + +"Yes, if I go away-- + +"I'll kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Involuntarily she reached out a slim hand to the big gun on the +corner of the table. + +"I'll kill 'im, if you go away," she threatened again, "He's +broken his wife, and crippled her, and if it wasn't for her I'd +have gone long ago. But I've promised, and I'm goin' to stay-- +until something happens. And if you go--now--" + +At the choking throb in her throat and the sudden quiver that came +to her lips, Jolly Roger jumped up for the coffee pot, though his +cup was still half full. + +"I won't go, Nada," he cried, trying to laugh. "I promise--cross +my heart and hope to die! I won't go--until you tell me I can." + +And then, feeling that something had almost gone wrong for a +moment, Peter yipped from his nest in the bunk, and the gladness +in Nada's eyes thanked Jolly Roger for his promise when he came +back with the coffee pot. Standing behind her, he made pretense of +refilling her cup, though she had scarcely touched it, and all the +time his eyes were looking at her beautiful head, and he saw again +the dampness in her hair. + +"What happened in the creek, Nada?" he asked. + +She told him, and at the mention of his name Peter drew his +bristling little head erect, and waited expectantly. He could see +Jolly Roger's face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a +quick smile flashing over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly +Roger leaned a little toward her in the lampglow, and said, + +"You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever +hits you again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it-- +will you tell me?" Nada hesitated. + +"If you don't--I'll take back my promise, and won't stay," he +added. + +"Then--I'll promise," she said. "If he does it, I'll tell you. But +I ain't--I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins +will sure kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep +him here? And--o-o-o-h!--if I could only stay, too--" + +The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant +a flood of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger +turned again to the stove, and made as if he had not seen the +blush or heard her last words, so that the shame of her +embarrassment was gone as quickly as it had come. + +"Yes, I'll keep Peter," he said over his shoulder. And in his +heart another voice which she could not hear, was crying, "And I'd +give my life if I could keep you!" + +Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger +and Nada out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half +an hour later. It was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed +only the mosquito-screen, leaving the door wide open, and Peter +could hear their footsteps disappearing slowly into the deep gloom +of the forest. It was a little before moonrise, and under the +spruce and cedar and thick balsam the world was like a black pit. +It was very still, and except for the soft tread of their own feet +and the musical ripple of water in the creek there was scarcely a +sound in this first hour of the night. In Jolly Roger there rose +something of exultation, for Nada's warm little hand lay in his as +he guided her through the darkness, and her fingers had clasped +themselves tightly round his thumb. She was very close to him when +he paused to make sure of the unseen trail, so close that her +cheek rested against his arm, and--bending a little--his lips +touched the soft ripples of her hair. But he could not see her in +the gloom, and his heart pounded fiercely all the way to the ford. + +Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like +Jolly Roger. + +"I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada," he said. + +Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of +losing him there in the blackness that lay about them like a great +ink-blotch. And she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all +the power in his soul fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from +putting his arms about her slim little body and crying out the +worship that was in him. + +"I ain't--I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet," he heard her +whisper then. "You're so big and strong, Mister Roger--" + +Gently he freed his thumb from her fingers, and picked her up, and +held her high, so that she was against his breast and above the +deepest of the water. Lightly at first Nada's arms lay about his +shoulders, but as the flood began to rush higher and she felt him +straining against it,--her arms tightened, until the clasp of them +was warm and thrilling round Jolly Roger's neck. She gave a big +gasp of relief when he stood her safely down upon her feet on the +other side. And then again she reached out, and found his hand, +and twined her fingers about his big thumb--and Jolly Roger went +on with her over the plain toward Cragg's Ridge, dripping wet, +just as the rim of the moon began to rise over the edge of the +eastern forests. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed an interminable wait to Peter, back in the cabin. Jolly +Roger had put out the light, and when the moon came up the glow of +it did not come into the dark room where Peter lay, for the open +door was to the west, and curtains were drawn closely at both +windows. But through the door he could see the first mellowing of +the night, and after that the swift coming of a soft, golden +radiance which swallowed all darkness and filled his world with +the ghostly shadows which seemed alive, yet never made a sound. It +was a big, splendid moon this night, and Peter loved the moon, +though he had seen it only a few times in his three months of +life. It fascinated him more than the sun, for it was always light +when the sun came, and he had never seen the sun eat up darkness, +as the moon did. Its mystery awed him, but did not frighten. He +could not quite understand the strange, still shadows which were +always unreal when he nosed into them, and it puzzled him why the +birds did not fly about in the moon glow, and sing as they did in +the day-time. And something deep in him, many generations older +than himself, made his blood run faster when this thing that ate +up darkness came creeping through the sky, and he was filled with +a yearning to adventure out into the strange glow of it, quietly +and stealthily, watching and listening for things he had never +seen or heard. + +In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon +the open door, and for a long time he listened only for the +returning footsteps of Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts +to drag himself to the edge of the bunk, but the movement sent +such a cutting pain through him that he did not make a third. And +outside, after a time, he heard the Night People rousing +themselves. They were very cautious, these Night People, for +unlike the creatures of the dawn, waking to greet the sun with +song and happiness, most of them were sharp-fanged and long- +clawed-rovers and pirates of the great wilderness, ready to kill. +And this, too, Peter sensed through the generations of northland +dog that was in him. He heard a wolf howl, coming faintly through +the night from miles away, and something told him it was not a +dog. From nearer came the call of a moose, and that same sense +told him he had heard a monster bear which his eyes had never +seen. He did not know of the soft-footed, night-eyed creatures of +prey--the fox, the lynx, the fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine, +nor of the round-eyed, feathered murderers in the tree-tops--yet +that same something told him they were out there among the +shadows, under the luring glow of the moon. And a thing happened, +all at once, to stab the truth home to him. A baby snowshoe +rabbit, a third grown, hopped out into the open close to the cabin +door, and as it nibbled at the green grass, a gray catapult of +claw and feathers shot out of the air, and Peter heard the crying +agony of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into the thick spruce +tops. Even then--unafraid--Peter wanted to go out into the moon +glow! + +At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and +Jolly Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and +stopped in front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and +looking into the west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over +the tree-tops. There was a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but +he choked it back. Jolly Roger was strangely quiet, and Peter +could not hear Nada, and as he sniffed, and gulped the lump in his +throat, he seemed to catch the breath of something impending in +the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and sat down in darkness near +the table, and for a long time Peter kept his eyes fixed on the +shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and listened to his +breathing, until he could stand it no longer, and whined. + +The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match--and then +blew the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and +stroked him with his hand. + +"Peter," he said in a low voice, "I guess we've got a job on our +hands. You began it today--and I've got to finish it. We're goin' +to kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Peter snuggled closer. + +"Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me," Jolly Roger +went on in the darkness, "but until tonight I never made up my +mind to kill a man. I'm ready--now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again +we're goin' to kill him! Understand, Pied-Bot?" + +He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a +nest for Peter on the floor, and stretched himself out in the +bunk; and after that, for a long time, there seemed to be +something heavier than the gloom of night in the cabin for Peter, +and he listened and waited and prayed in his dog way for Nada's +return, and wondered why it was that she left him so long. And the +Night People held high carnival under the yellow moon, and there +was flight and terror and slaughter in the glow of it--and Jolly +Roger slept, and the wolf howled nearer, and the creek chortled +its incessant song of running water, and in the end Peter's eyes +closed, and a red-eyed ermine peeped over the sill into the man- +and dog-scented stillness of the outlaw's cabin. + +For many days after this first night in the cabin, Peter did not +see Nada. There was more rain, and the creek flooded higher, so +that each time Jolly Roger went over to Cragg's Ridge he took his +life in his hands in fording the stream. Peter saw no one but +Jolly Roger, and at the end of the second week he was going about +on his mended leg. But there would always be a limp in his gait, +and always his right hind-foot would leave a peculiar mark in the +trail. + +These two weeks of helplessness were an education in Peter's life +and were destined to leave their mark upon him always. He learned +to know Jolly Roger, not alone from seeing events, but through an +intuitive instinct that grew swiftly somewhere in his shrewd head. +This instinct, given widest scope in these weeks of helplessness, +developed faster than any other in him, until in the end, he could +judge Jolly Roger's humor by the sound of his approaching +footsteps. Never was there a waking hour in which he was not +fighting to comprehend the mystery of the change that had come +over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and each day that +passed put her farther away from him, yet he also sensed the fact +that Jolly Roger went to her, and when the outlaw returned to the +cabin Peter was filled with a yearning hope that Nada was +returning with him. + +But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about +Jolly Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man +which was greater than all other things in his world. And in these +days Jolly Roger found in Peter's comradeship and growing +understanding a comforting outlet for the things which at times +consumed him. Peter saw it all--hours when Jolly Roger's voice and +laughter filled the cabin with cheer and happiness, and others +when his face was set in grim lines, with that hard, far-away look +in his eyes that Peter could never quite make out. It was at such +times, when Jolly Roger held a choking grip on the love in his +heart, that he told Peter things which he had never revealed to a +human soul. + +In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the +creek, he said to Peter, + +"We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight. +Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for +her. I'd die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a +prison cell--if I could have her with me. And that's dangerous, +Peter, because we can't have her. It's impossible, boy. She +doesn't guess why I'm here. She doesn't know I've been outlawin' +it for years, and that I'm hiding here because the Police would +never think of looking for Jolly Roger McKay this close to +civilization. If I told her, she would think I was worse than Jed +Hawkins, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her I've outlawed +with my wits instead of a gun, and that I've never criminally hurt +a person in my life. No, she wouldn't believe that, Peter. And +she--she cares for me, Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And she's +got faith in me, and would go with me to the Missioner's tomorrow. +I know it. I can see it, feel it, and I--" + +His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck. + +"Peter," he whispered in the thickening darkness. "I believe +there's a God, but He's a different sort of God than most people +believe in. He lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in +the birds, the sky, in everything--and I hope that God will strike +me dead if I do what isn't right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he +strikes me dead!" + +And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly +in his bunk, and slept but little + +But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding +over the wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he +cooked their breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling +thing about this man. With gloom and oppression fastened upon him +he would rise up suddenly, and start whistling or singing, and +once he said to Peter, + +"I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, +no matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see +it. A laugh never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung." + +Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By +that time he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the +fording-place, and there he would wait, sometimes hours at a +stretch, while his comrade and master went over to Cragg's Ridge. +But frequently Jolly Roger would not cross, but remained with +Peter, and would lie on his back at the edge of a grassy knoll +they had found, reading one of the little old-fashioned red books +which Peter knew were very precious to him. Often he wondered what +was between the faded red covers that was so interesting, and if +he could have read he would have seen such titles as "Margaret of +Anjou," "History of Napoleon," "History of Peter the Great," +"Caesar," "Columbus the Discoverer," and so on through the twenty +volumes which Jolly Roger had taken from a wilderness mail two +years before, and which he now prized next to his life. + +This afternoon, as they lay in the sleepy quiet of June, Jolly +Roger answered the questioning inquisitiveness in Peter's face and +eyes. + +"You see, Pied-Bot, it was this way," he said, beginning a little +apologetically. "I was dying for something to read, and I figgered +there'd be something on the Mail--newspapers, you know. So I +stopped it, and tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I +didn't take anything else--that time. There's twenty of them, and +they weigh nine pounds, and in the last two years I've toted them +five thousand miles. I wouldn't trade them for my weight in gold, +and I'm pretty heavy. I named you after one of them--Peter. I +pretty near called you Christopher Columbus. And some day we've +got to take these books to the man they were going to, Peter. I've +promised myself that. It seems sort of like stealing the soul out +of someone. I just borrowed them, that's all. And I've kept the +address of the owner, away up on the edge of the Barrens. Some day +we're going to make a special trip to take the books home." + +Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and +following the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada +standing quietly on the opposite side of the stream, looking at +them. In a moment Peter knew her, and he was trembling in every +muscle when Jolly Roger caught him up under his arm, and with a +happy laugh plunged through the creek with him. For a good five +minutes after that Jolly Roger stood aside watching Peter and +Nada, and there was a glisten of dampness in his eyes when he saw +the wet on Nada's cheeks, and the whimpering joy of Peter as he +caressed her face and hands. Three weeks had been a long time to +Peter, but he could see no difference in the little mistress he +worshipped. There were still the radiant curls to hide his nose +in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, the warm thrill of her body +as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know that she had new +shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had gone from +her red lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could +no longer hide the old haunted look in her eyes. + +But Jolly Roger saw the look, and the growing pallor, and had +noted them for two weeks past. And later that afternoon, when Nada +returned to Cragg's Ridge, and he re-crossed the stream with +Peter, there was a hard and terrible look in his eyes which Peter +had caught there more and more frequently of late. And that +evening, in the twilight of their cabin, Jolly Roger said, + +"It's coming soon, Peter. I'm expecting it. Something is happening +which she won't tell us about. She is afraid for me. I know it. +But I'm going to find out--soon. And then, Pied-Bot, I think we'll +probably kill Jed Hawkins, and hit for the North." + +The gloom of foreboding that was in Jolly Roger's voice and words +seemed to settle over the cabin for many days after that, and more +than ever Peter sensed the thrill and warning of that mysterious +something which was impending. He was developing swiftly, in flesh +and bone and instinct, and there began to possess him now the +beginning of that subtle caution and shrewdness which were to mean +so much to him later on. An instinct greater than reason, if it +was not reason itself, told him that his master was constantly +watching for something which did not come. And that same instinct, +or reason, impinged upon him the fact that it was a thing to be +guarded against. He did not go blindly into the mystery of things +now. He circumvented them, and came up from behind. Craft and +cunning replaced mere curiosity and puppyish egoism. He was quick +to learn, and Jolly Roger's word became his law, so that only once +or twice was he told a thing, and it became a part of his +understanding. While the keen, shrewd brain of his Airedale father +developed inside Peter's head, the flesh and blood development of +his big, gentle, soft-footed Mackenzie hound mother kept pace in +his body. His legs and feet began to lose their grotesqueness. +Flesh began to cover the knots in his tail. His head, bristling +fiercely with wiry whiskers, seemed to pause for a space to give +his lanky body a chance to catch up with it. And in spite of his +big feet, so clumsy that a few weeks ago they had stumbled over +everything in his way, he could now travel without making a sound. + +So it came to pass, after a time, that when Peter heard footsteps +approaching the cabin he made no effort to reveal himself until he +knew it was Jolly Roger who was coming. And this was strangely in +spite of the fact that in the five weeks since Nada had brought +him from Cragg's Ridge no one but Jolly Roger and Nada had set +foot within sight of the shack. It was an inborn caution, growing +stronger in him each day. There came one early evening when Peter +made a discovery. He had returned with Jolly Roger from a fishing +trip farther down the creek, and scarcely had he set nose to the +little clearing about the cabin when he caught the presence of a +strange scent. He investigated it swiftly, and found it all about +the cabin, and very strong close up against the cabin door. There +were no doubts in Peter's mind. A man had been there, and this man +had gone around and around the cabin, and had opened the door, and +had even gone inside, for Peter found the scent of him on the +floor. He tried, in a way, to tell Jolly Roger. He bristled, and +whined, and looked searchingly into the darkening edge of the +forest. Jolly Roger quested with him for a few moments, and when +he failed to find marks in the ground he began cleaning a fish for +supper, and said. + +"Probably a wolverine, Pied-Bot. The rascal came to see what he +could find while we were away." + +But Peter was not satisfied. He was restless all that night. +Sounds which had been familiar now held a new significance for +him. The next day he was filled with a quiet but brooding +expectancy. He resented the intrustion of the strange footprints. +It was, in his process of instinctive reasoning, an encroachment +upon the property rights of his master, and he was--true to the +law of his species--the guardian of those rights. + +The fourth evening after the stranger's visit to the cabin Jolly +Roger was later than usual in returning from Cragg's Ridge. Peter +had been on a hunting adventure of his own, and came to the cabin +at sunset. But he never came out of cover now without standing +quietly for a few moments, getting the wind, and listening. And +tonight, poking his head between some balsams twenty yards from +the shack, he was treated to a sudden thrill. The cabin door was +open. And standing close to this door, looking quietly and +cautiously about, stood a stranger. He was not like Jed Hawkins, +was Peter's first impression. He was tall, with a wide-brimmed +hat, and wore boots with striped trousers tucked into them, and on +his coat were bits of metal which caught the last gleams of the +sun. Peter knew nothing of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. But +he sensed danger, and he remained very quiet, without moving a +muscle of his head or body, while the stranger looked about, with +a hand on his unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he entered the +cabin, and closed the door after him, did Peter move back into the +deeper gloom of the forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked +through cover to the foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, +across which Jolly Roger would come from Cragg's Ridge. + +There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. +Peter did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. +He remained sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears +flattened, and in his whole attitude no sign of gladness at his +master's coming. With every instinct of caution developed to the +highest degree within him, Jolly Roger was lightning quick to +observe the significance of small things. He spoke to Peter, +caressed him with his hand, and moved on along the foot-trail +toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him moodily, and after a +few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches again. Jolly +Roger was puzzled. + +"What is it, Peter?" he asked. "Are you afraid of that wolverine-- +" + +Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, +and his eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail +beyond the outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he +disappeared around a twist in the path. There he stopped, and +peered back. Peter was not following him, but still sat where he +had left him. A quicker breath came to Jolly Roger's lips, and he +went back to Peter. For fully a minute he stood beside him, +watching and listening, and not once did the reddish glare in +Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. Jolly Roger's eyes +had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on his knees beside +Peter, and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear. + +"You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying +to tell me?" + +Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes +from ahead. + +There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his +feet, and he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the +forest, and in the gloom that was gathering there his hand carried +the big automatic. Peter followed him now, and Jolly Roger swung +in a wide circle, so that they came up on that forest side of the +cabin where there was no window. And here Jolly Roger knelt down +beside Peter again, and whispered to him. + +"You stay here, Pied-Bot. Understand? You stay here." + +He pressed him down gently with his hand, so that Peter +understood. Then, slinking low, and swift as a cat, Jolly Roger +ran to the end of the cabin where there was no window. With his +head close to the ground he peered out cautiously at the door. It +was closed. Then he looked at the windows. To the west the +curtains were up, as he had left them. And to the east-- + +A whimsical smile played at the corners of his mouth. Those +curtains he had kept tightly drawn. One of them was down now. But +the other was raised two inches, so that one hidden within the +cabin could watch the approach from the trail! + +He drew back, and under his breath he chuckled. He recognized the +sheer nerve of the thing, the clever handiwork of it. Someone was +inside the cabin, and he was ready to stake his life it was +Cassidy, the Irish bloodhound of "M" Division. If anyone ferreted +him out way down here on the edge of civilization he had gambled +with himself that it would be Cassidy. And Cassidy had come-- +Cassidy, who had hung like a wolf to his trails for three years, +who had chased him across the Barren Lands, who had followed him +up the Mackenzie, and back again--who had fought with him, and +starved with him, and froze with him, yet had never brought him to +prison. Deep down in his heart Jolly Roger loved Cassidy. They had +played, and were still playing, a thrilling game, and to win that +game had become the life's ambition of each. And now Cassidy was +in there, confident that at last he had his man, and waiting for +him to step into the trap. + +To Jolly Roger, in the face of its possible tragedy, there was a +deep-seated humor in the situation. Three times in the last year +and a half had he turned the tables on Cassidy, leaving him +floundering in the cleverly woven webs which the man-hunter had +placed for his victim. This was the fourth time. And Cassidy would +be tremendously upset! + +Praying that Peter would remain quiet, Jolly Roger took off his +shoes. After that he made no more sound than a ferret as he crept +to the door. An inch at a time he raised himself, until he was +standing up, with his ear half an inch from the crack that ran +lengthwise of the frame. Holding his breath, he listened. For an +interminable time, it seemed to him, there was no sound from +within. He guessed what Cassidy was doing--peering through that +slit of window under the curtain. But he was not absolutely sure. +And he knew the necessity of making no error, with Cassidy in +there, gripping the butt of his gun. + +Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet +distinct, were moving from the window toward the door. Half way +they paused, and turned to one of the windows looking westward. +But it was evident the watcher was not expecting his game from +that direction, for after a moment's silence he returned to the +window through which he could see the trail. This time Jolly Roger +was sure. Cassidy was again peering through the window, with his +back toward him, and every muscle in the forest rover's body +gathered for instant action. In another moment he had flung open +the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to find +himself looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun. + +For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly +Roger's, Peter lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly +popping from his head in his eagerness to see what was happening. +He heard voices, and then the wild thrill of Jolly Roger's +laughter, and restraining himself no longer he trotted cautiously +to the open door of the cabin. In a chair sat the stranger with +the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, with his hands securely tied +behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling about, filling a +shoulder-pack in the last light of the day. + +"Cassidy, I oughta kill you," Jolly Roger was saying as he worked, +an exultant chuckle in his voice. "You don't give me any peace. No +matter where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I +ever invited you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant +flowers over you, now that I've got the chance. But I'm too +chicken-hearted. Besides, I like you. By the time you get tired of +chasing me you should be a pretty good man-hunter. But just now +you lack finesse, Cassidy--you lack finesse. "And Jolly Roger's +chuckle broke into another laugh. + +Cassidy heaved out a grunt. + +"It's luck--just damned luck!" he growled. + +"If it is, I hope it keeps up," said Jolly Roger. "Now, look here, +Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it. If you don't get me next +time--if you fail, and I turn the trick on you once more--will you +quit?" + +Cassidy's eyes gleamed in the thickening dusk. + +"If I don't get you next time--I'll hand in my resignation!" + +The laughter went out of Jolly Roger's voice. + +"I believe you, Cassidy. You've played square--always. And now--if +I free your hands--will you swear to give me a two hours' start +before you leave this cabin?" + +"I'll give you the start," said Cassidy. + +His lean face was growing indistinct in the gloom. + +Jolly Roger came up behind him. There was the slash of a knife. +Then he picked up his shoulder-pack. At the door he paused. + +"Look at your watch when I'm gone, Cassidy, and be sure you make +it a full two hours." + +"I'll make it two hours and five minutes," said Cassidy. "Hittin' +north are you, Jolly Roger?" + +"I'm hittin'--bushward," replied the outlaw. "I'm going where it's +plenty thick and hard to travel, Cassidy. Goodby--" + +He was gone. He hit straight north, making noise as he went, but +once in the timber he swung southward, and plunged through the +creek with Peter under his arm. Not until they had traveled a good +half mile over the plain did Jolly Roger speak. Then he said, +speaking directly at Peter, + +"Cassidy thinks I'll sure hit for the North country again, Pied- +Bot. But we're foolin' him. I've sort of planned on something like +this happening, and right now we're hittin' for the tail-end of +Cragg's Ridge where there's a mess of rock that the devil himself +can hardly get into. We've got to do it, boy. We can't leave the +girl--just now. We can't leave--her--" + +Jolly Roger's voice choked. Then he paused for a moment, and bent +over to put his hand on Peter. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Peter--Cassidy would have got me-- +sure. And I'm wondering, Peter--I'm wondering--why did God forget +to give a dog speech?" + +Peter whined in answer, and through the darkness of the night they +went on together. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away +as Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and +Cragg's Ridge. + +They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew +the red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise--he would +wait the full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five +minutes after that. In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed, +exultation at his achievement died away, and there filled him +again the old loneliness--the loneliness which called out against +the fate which had made of Cassidy an enemy instead of a friend. +And yet--what an enemy! + +He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand. + +"Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us +down," he protested. "Someone we could have hated, and who would +have hated us! Why did they send Cassidy--the fairest and squarest +man that ever wore red? We can't do him a dirty turn--we can't +hurt him, Pied-Bot, even at the worst. And if ever he takes us in +to Headquarters, and looks at us through the bars, I feel it's +going to be like a knife in his heart. But he'll do it, Peter, if +he can. It's his job. And he's honest. We've got to say that of +Cassidy." + +The Ridge loomed up at the edge of the level plain, and for a few +moments Jolly Roger paused, while he looked off through the +eastward gloom. A mile in that direction, beyond the cleft that +ran like a great furrow through the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, +still and dark under the faint glow of the stars. And in that +cabin was Nada. He felt that she was sitting at her little window, +looking out into the night, thinking of him--and a great desire +gripped at his heart, tugging him in its direction. But he turned +toward the west. + +"We can't let her know what has happened, boy," he said, feeling +the urge of caution. "For a little while we must let her think we +have left the country. If Cassidy sees her, and talks with her, +something in those blue-flower eyes of hers might give us away if +she knew we were hiding up among the rocks of the Stew-Kettle. But +I'm hopin' God A'mighty won't let her see Cassidy. And I'm +thinking He won't, Pied-Bot, because I've a pretty good hunch He +wants us to settle with Jed Hawkins before we go." + +It was a habit of his years of aloneness, this talking to a +creature that could make no answer. But even in the darkness he +sensed the understanding of Peter. + +Rocks grew thicker and heavier under their feet, and they went +more slowly, and occasionally stumbled in the gloom. But, after a +fashion, they knew their way even in darkness. More than once +Peter had wondered why his master had so carefully explored this +useless mass of upheaved rock at the end of Cragg's Ridge. They +had never seen an animal or a blade of grass in all its gray, sun- +blasted sterility. It was like a hostile thing, overhung with a +half-dead, slow-beating something that was like the dying pulse of +an evil thing. And now darkness added to its mystery and its +unfriendliness as Peter nosed close at his master's heels. Up and +up they picked their way, over and between ragged upheavals of +rock, twisting into this broken path and that, feeling their way, +partly sensing it, and always ascending toward the stars. Roger +McKay did not speak again to Peter. Each time he came out where +the sky was clear he looked toward the solitary dark pinnacle, far +up and ahead, strangely resembling a giant tombstone in the star- +glow, that was their guide. And after many minutes of strange +climbing, in which it seemed to Jolly Roger the nail-heads in the +soles of his boots made weirdly loud noises on the rocks, they +came near to the top. + +There they stopped, and in a deeply shadowed place where there was +a carpet of soft sand, with walls of rock close on either side, +Jolly Roger spread out his blankets. Then he went out from the +black shadow, so that a million stars seemed not far away over +their heads. Here he sat down, and began to smoke, thinking of +what tomorrow would hold for him, and of the many days destined to +follow that tomorrow. Nowhere in the world was there to be--for +him--the peace of an absolute certainty. Not until he felt the +cold steel of iron bars with his two hands, and the fatal game had +been played to the end. + +There was no corrosive bitterness of the vengeful in Jolly Roger's +heart. For that reason even his enemies, the Police, had fallen +into the habit of using the nickname which the wilderness people +had given him. He did not hate these police. Curiously, he loved +them. Their type was to him the living flesh and blood of the +finest manhood since the Crusaders. And he did not hate the law. +At times the Law, as personified in all of its unswerving majesty, +amused him. It was so terribly serious over such trivial things-- +like himself, for instance. It could not seem to sleep or rest +until a man was hanged, or snugly put behind hard steel, no matter +how well that man loved his human-kind--and the world. And Jolly +Roger loved both. In his heart he believed he had not committed a +crime by achieving justice where otherwise there would have been +no justice. Yet outwardly he cursed himself for a lawbreaker. And +he loved life. He loved the stars silently glowing down at him +tonight. He loved even the gray, lifeless rock, which recalled to +his imaginative genius the terrific and interesting life that had +once existed--he loved the ghostly majesty of the grave-like +pinnacle that rose above him, and beyond that he loved all the +world. + +But most of all, more than his own life or all that a thousand +lives might hold for him, he loved the violet-eyed girl who had +come into his life from the desolation and unhappiness of Jed +Hawkins' cabin. + +Forgetting the law, forgetting all but her, he went at last into +the dungeon-like gloom between the rocks, and after Peter had +wallowed himself a bed in the carpet of sand they fell asleep. + +They awoke with the dawn. But for three days thereafter they went +forth only at night, and for three days did not show themselves +above the barricade of rocks. The Stew-Kettle was what Jolly Roger +had called it, and when the sun was straight above, or descending +with the last half of the day, the name fitted. + +It was a hot place, so hot that at a distance its piled-up masses +of white rock seemed to simmer and broil in the blazing heat of +the July sun. Neither man nor beast would look into the heart of +it, Jolly Roger had assured Peter, unless the one was half-witted +and the other a fool. Looking at it from the meadowy green plain +that lay between the Ridge and the forest their temporary retreat +was anything but a temptation to the eye. Something had happened +there a few thousand centuries before, and in a moment of evident +spleen and vexation the earth had vomited up that pile of rock +debris, and Jolly Roger good humoredly told himself and Peter that +it was an act of Providence especially intended for them, though +planned and erupted some years before they were born. + +The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon +action. + +This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had +seemed to concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though +it was now almost sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence +still hovered about it. The huge masses of stone were like baked +things to the touch of hand and foot, and one breathed a +smoldering air in between their gray and white walls. + +Thus forbidding looked the Stew-Kettle, when viewed from the +plain. But from the top-most crag of the mass, which rose a +hundred feet high at the end of the Ridge, one might find his +reward for a blistering climb. On all sides, a paradise of green +and yellow and gold, stretched the vast wilderness, studded with +shimmering lakes that gleamed here and there from out of their +rich dark frames of spruce and cedar and balsam. And half way +between the edge of the plain and this highest pinnacle of rock, +utterly hidden from the eyes of both man and beast, nestled the +hiding place which Jolly Roger and Peter had found. + +It was a cool and cavernous spot, in spite of the Sahara-like heat +of the great pile. In the very heart of it two gigantic masses of +rock had put their shoulders together, like Gog and Magog, so that +under their ten thousand tons of weight was a crypt-like tunnel as +high as a man's head, into which the light and the glare of the +sun never came. + +Peter, now that he had grown accustomed to the deadness of it, +liked this change from Indian Tom's cabin. He liked his wallow of +soft sand during the day, and he liked still more the aloneness +and the aloofness of their ramparted stronghold when the cool of +evening came. He did not, of course, understand just what their +escape from Cassidy had meant, but instinct was shrewdly at work +within him, and no wolf could have guarded the place more +carefully than he. And he had all creation in mind when he guarded +the rock-pile. + +All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great +call for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart. And on this third +afternoon, as the hot July sun dipped half way to the western +forests, both Peter and his master were looking yearningly, and +with the same thought, toward the east, where over the back-bone +of Cragg's Ridge Jed Hawkins' cabin lay. + +"We'll let her know tonight," Roger McKay said at last, with +something very slow and deliberate in his voice. "We'll take the +chance--and let her know." + +Peter's bristling Airedale whiskers, standing out like a bunch of +broom splints about his face, quivered sympathetically, and he +thumped his tail in the sand. He was an artful hypocrite, was +Peter, because he always looked as if he understood, whether he +did or not. And Jolly Roger, staring at the gray rock-backs +outside their tunnel door, went on. + +"We must play square with her, Pied-Bot, and it's a crime worse +than murder not to let her know the truth. If she wasn't a kid, +Peter! But she's that--just a kid--the sweetest, purest thing God +A'mighty ever made, and it isn't fair to live this lie any longer, +no matter how we love her. And we do love her, Peter." + +Peter lay very quiet, watching the strange gray look that had +settled in Jolly Roger's face. + +"I've got to tell her that I'm a damned highwayman," he added, in +a moment. "And she won't understand, Peter. She can't. But I'm +going to do it. I'm going to tell her--today. And then--I think +we'll be hittin' north pretty soon, Pied-Bot. If it wasn't for Jed +Hawkins--" He rose up out of the sand, his hands clenched. + +"We ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for +her," he finished. + +He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path +until he stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into +the northern wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a +thousand miles--was home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay +to the Rockies, from the Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and +in it he had lived the thrill of life according to his own +peculiar code. He knew that he had loved life as few had ever +loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon and the stars. +The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in spite of +its ceaseless peril for him. + +But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood +in the blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a +little while, and because of it he had lived a lie. He had not +told Jed Hawkins' foster-girl that he was an outlaw, and that he +had come to the edge of civilization because he thought it was the +last place the Royal Mounted would look for him. When he went to +her this evening it would probably be for the last time. He would +tell her the truth. He would tell her the police were after him +from one end of the Canadian northland to the other. And that same +night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for the Barren Lands, a +thousand miles away. He was sure of himself now--sure--even as the +dark wall of the forest across the plain faded out, and gave place +to a pale, girlish face with eyes blue as flowers, and brown curls +filled with the lustre of the sun--a face that had taken the place +of mother, sister and God deep down in his soul. Yes, he was sure +of himself--even with that face rising lo give battle to his last +great test of honor. He was an outlaw, and the police wanted him, +but-- + +Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's +face. They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in +the valley McKay led the way out of the rock-pile. + +An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay +between the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light +in the cabin, but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down +under the warning pressure of McKay's hand. + +"I'll go on alone," he said. "You stay here." + +It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not +hear the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the +glass of Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to +that signal-tapping, heard nothing from within, except a monotone +of voice that came from the outer room. For half an hour he +waited, repeating the signals at intervals. At last a door opened, +and Nada stood silhouetted against the light of the room beyond. + +McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly +behind the girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was +raised a little from the bottom. + +"Mister--Roger--" she whispered. "Is it--YOU?" + +"Yes," he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. "It's me." + +The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the +girl was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up +quietly in the dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of +Nada's voice at the window. There was something in the note of it, +and in the caution of Jolly Roger's reply, that held him stiff and +attentive, his ears wide-open for approaching sound. For several +minutes he stood thus, and then the whispering voices at the +window ceased and he heard his master retreating very quietly +through the night. When Jolly Roger spoke to him, back under the +broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that Peter had stood +near the window. + +McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin. + +"Something happened there tonight--something she wouldn't tell me +about," he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself. "I +could FEEL it. I wish I could have seen her face." + +He set out over the plain; and then, as if remembering that he +must explain the matter to Peter, he said: + +"She can't get out tonight, Pied-Bot, but she'll come to us in the +jackpines tomorrow afternoon. We'll have to wait" + +He tried to say the thing cheerfully, but between this night and +tomorrow afternoon seemed an interminable time, now that he was +determined to make a clean breast of his affairs to Nada, and +leave the country. Most of that night he walked in the coolness of +the moonlit plain, and for a long time he sat amid the flower- +scented shadows of the trysting-place in the heart of the jackpine +clump, where Nada had a hidden place all her own. It was here that +Peter discovered something which Jolly Roger could not see in the +deep shadows, a bundle warm and soft and sweet with the presence +of Nada herself. It was hidden under a clump of young banksians, +very carefully hidden, and tucked about with grass and evergreen +boughs. When McKay left the jackpines he wondered why it was that +Peter showed no inclination to follow him until he was urged. + +They did not return to the Stew-Kettle until dawn, and most of +that day Jolly Roger spent in sleep between the two big rocks. It +was late afternoon when they made their last meal. In this +farewell hour McKay climbed up close to the pinnacle, where he +smoked his pipe and measured the shadows of the declining sun +until it was time to leave for the jackpines. + +Retracing his steps to the hiding place under Gog and Magog he +looked for Peter. But Peter's sand-wallow was empty, and Peter was +gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Peter was on his way to the mystery of the bundle he had found in +the jackpines. + +At the foot of the ridge, where the green plain fought with the +blighting edge of the Stew-Kettle, he stood for many minutes +before he started east-ward. With keen eyes gleaming behind his +mop of scraggly face-bristles he critically surveyed both land and +air, and then, with the slight limp in his gait which would always +remain as a mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, he trotted +deliberately in the direction of the whiskey-runner's cabin home. + +A bitter memory of Jed Hawkins flattened his ears when he came +near the rock-cluttered coulee in which he had fought for Nada, +and had suffered his broken bones, and today--even as he obeyed +the instinctive caution to stop and listen--Jed Hawkins himself +came out of the mouth of the coulee, bearing a brown jug in one +hand and a thick cudgel in the other. His one wicked eye gleamed +in the waning sun. His lean and scraggly face was alight with a +sinister exultation as he paused for a moment close to the rock +behind which Peter was hidden, and Peter's fangs lay bare and his +body trembled while the man stood there. Then he moved on, and +Peter did not stir, but waited until the jug and the cudgel and +the man were out of sight. + +Low under his breath he was snarling when he went on. Hatred, for +a moment, had flamed hot in his soul. Then he turned, and buried +himself in a clump of balsams that reached out into the plain, and +a few moments later came to the edge of a tiny meadow in the heart +of them, where a warbler was bursting its throat in evening-song. + +Around the edge of the meadow Peter circled, his feet deep in +buttercups and red fire-flowers, and crushing softly ripe +strawberries that grew in scarlet profusion in the open, until he +came to a screen of young jackpines, and through these he quietly +and apologetically nosed his way. Then he stood wagging his tail, +with Nada sitting on the grass half a dozen steps from him, wiping +the strawberry stain from her finger-tips. And the stain was on +her red lips, and a bit of it against the flush of her cheek, as +she gave a little cry of gladness and greeting to Peter. Her eyes +flashed beyond him, and every drop of blood in her slim, beautiful +little body seemed to be throbbing with an excitement new to Peter +as she looked for Jolly Roger. + +Peter went to her, and dropped down, with his head in her lap, and +looking up through his bushy eye-brows he saw a livid bruise just +under the ripples of her brown hair, where there had been no mark +yesterday, or the day before. Nada's hands drew him closer, until +he was half in her lap, and she bent her face down to him, so that +her thick, shining hair fell all about him. Peter loved her hair, +almost as much as Jolly Roger loved it, and he closed his eyes and +drew a deep breath of content as the smothering sweetness of it +shut out the sunlight from him. + +"Peter," she whispered, "I'm almost scared to have him come today. +I've promised him. You remember--I promised to tell him if Jed +Hawkins struck me again. And he has! He made that mark, and if +Jolly Roger knows it he'll kill him. I've got to lie--lie--" + +Peter wriggled, to show his interest, and his hard tail thumped +the ground. For a space Nada said nothing more, and he could hear +and feel the beating of her heart close down against him. Then she +raised her head, and looked in the direction from which she would +first hear Jolly Roger as he came through the young jackpines. +Peter, with his eyes half closed in a vast contentment, did not +see or sense the change in her today--that her blue eyes were +brighter, her cheeks flushed, and in her body a strange and +subdued throbbing that had never been there before. Not even to +Peter did she whisper her secret, but waited and listened for +Jolly Roger, and when at last she heard him and he came through +the screen of jackpines, the color in her cheeks was like the +stain of strawberries crimsoning her finger-tips. In an instant, +looking down upon her, Jolly Roger saw what Peter had not +discovered, and he stopped in his tracks, his heart thumping like +a hammer inside him. Never, even in his dreams, had the girl +looked lovelier than she did now, and never had her eyes met his +eyes as they met them today, and never had her red lips said as +much to him, without uttering a word. In the same instant he saw +the livid bruise, half hidden under her hair--and then he saw a +big bundle behind her, partly screened by a dwarfed banksian. +After that his eyes went back to the bruise. + +"Jed Hawkins didn't do it," said Nada, knowing what was in his +mind. "It was Jed's woman. And you can't kill her!" she added a +little defiantly. + +Jolly Roger caught the choking throb in her throat, and he knew +she was lying. But Nada thrust Peter from her lap, and stood up, +and she seemed taller and more like a woman than ever before in +her life as she faced Jolly Roger there in the tiny open, with +violets and buttercups and red strawberries in the soft grass +under their feet. And behind them, and very near, a rival to the +warbler in the meadow began singing. But Nada did not hear. The +color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but now it was +fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in front of +her. But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the sky +as she looked at Jolly Roger. + +"I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger," she +said. + +A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead, +revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and +Nada saw gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter +which always frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and +when she reached out and touched his arm the flesh of it was as +hard as white birch. Even in her fear there was glory in the +thought that at a word from her he would kill the man who had +struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, timidly, and the blue in +her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading tremble in the curve +of her lips as she looked straight at him. + +"I'm not going back," she repeated. + +Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the +bundle. His eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed +to swell in his chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense +muscles relax. He tried to smile. He struggled to bring up the +courage which would make possible the confession he had to make. +And Peter, sitting on his haunches in a patch of violets, watched +them both, wondering what was going to happen between these two. + +"Where are you going?" Jolly Roger asked. + +Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were +twisting at his flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth +part of a second did she drop her eyes, and that strange, +wonderful something which he saw looking at him so clearly out of +her soul brought the truth to Jolly Roger, before she had spoken. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter." + +The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he +stepped back from her. He looked away from her--at Peter. But her +pale face, her parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her +radiant hair stirred by the wind--came between them. She was no +longer the little girl--"past seventeen, goin' on eighteen." To +Jolly Roger she was all that the world held of glorious womanhood. + +"But--you can't!" he cried desperately. "I've come to tell you +things, Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been +livin' a lie--" + +He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth. + +"You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is +bad. But the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've +wanted me for years. That's why I came down here, and hid over in +Indian Tom's cabin--near where I first met you. I thought they +wouldn't find me away down here, but they did. That's why Peter +and I moved over to the big rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. +I'm--an outlaw. I've done a lot of bad things--in the eyes of the +law, and I'll probably die with a bullet in me, or in jail. I'm +sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life to be able to tell +you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be square." + +He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as +he went on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. +Her lips seemed redder, and what he was saying did not seem to +startle her, or frighten her. + +"Don't you understand, Nada?" he cried. "I'm bad. The police want +me. I'm a fugitive--always running away, always hiding--an outlaw--" + +She nodded. + +"I know it, Mister Roger," she said quietly. "I heard you tell +Peter that a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place +the day after you and Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and +I showed him the way to Father John's, and he told me a lot about +you, and he told Father John a lot more, and it made me awful +proud of you, Mister Roger--and I want to go with you and Peter!" + +"Proud!" gasped Jolly Roger. "Proud, of ME--" + +She nodded again. + +"Mister Cassidy--the policeman--he used just the word you used a +minute ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other +people. He said he had to get you in jail if he could, but he +hoped he never would. He said he'd like to have a man like you for +a brother. And Peter loves you. And I--" + +The color came into her white face. + +"I'm goin' with you and Peter," she finished. + +Something came to relieve the tenseness of the moment for Jolly +Roger. Peter, nosing in a thick patch of bunch-grass, put out a +huge snowshoe rabbit, and the two crashed in a startling avalanche +through the young jackpines, Peter's still puppyish voice yelling +in a high staccato as he pursued. Jolly Roger turned from Nada, +and stared where they had gone. But he was seeing nothing. He knew +the hour of his mightiest fight had come. In the reckless years of +his adventuring he had more than once faced death. He had starved. +He had frozen. He had run the deadliest gantlets of the elements, +of beast, and of man. Yet was the strife in him now the greatest +of all his life. His heart thumped. His brain was swirling in a +vague and chaotic struggle for the mastery of things, and as he +fought with himself--his unseeing eyes fixed on the spot where +Peter and the snowshoe rabbit had disappeared--he heard Nada's +voice behind him, saying again that she was going with him and +Peter. In those seconds he felt himself giving way, and the +determined action he had built up for himself began to crumble +like sand. He had made his confession and in spite of it this +young girl he worshipped--sweeter and purer than the flowers of +the forest--was urging herself upon him! And his soul cried out +for him to turn about, and open his arms to her, and gather her +into them for as long as God saw fit to give him freedom and life. + +But still he fought against that mighty urge, dragging reason and +right back fragment by fragment, while Nada stood behind him, her +wide-open, childishly beautiful eyes beginning to comprehend the +struggle that was disrupting the heart of this man who was an +outlaw--and her god among men. And when Jolly Roger turned, his +face had aged to the grayness of stone, and his eyes were dull, +and there was a terribly dead note in his voice. + +"You can't go with us," he said. "You can't. It's wrong--all +wrong. I couldn't take care of you in jail, and some day--that's +where I'll be." + +More than once when she had spoken of Jed Hawkins he had seen the +swift flash of lightning come into the violet of her eyes. And it +came now, and her little hands grew tight at her sides, and bright +spots burned in her cheeks. + +"You won't!" she cried. "I won't let you go to jail. I'll fight +for you--if you'll let me go with you and Peter!" + +She came a step nearer. + +"And if I stay here Jed Hawkins is goin' to sell me to a tie- +cutter over on the railroad. That's what it is--sellin' me. I +ain't--I mean I haven't--told you before, because I was afraid of +what you'd do. But it's goin' to happen, unless you let me go with +you and Peter. Oh, Mister Roger--Mister Jolly Roger--" + +Her fingers crept up his arms. They reached his shoulders, and her +blue eyes, and her red lips, and the woman's soul in her girl-body +were so close to him he could feel their sweetness and thrill, and +then he saw a slow-gathering mist, and tears-- + +"I'll go wherever you go," she was whispering, "And we'll hide +where they won't ever find us, and I'll be happy, so happy, Mister +Roger--and if you won't take me I want to die. Oh--" + +She was crying, with her head on his breast, and her slim, half +bare arms around his neck, and Jolly Roger listened like a miser +to the choking words that came with her sobs. And where there had +been tumult and indecision in his heart there came suddenly the +clearness of sunshine and joy, and with it the happiness of a new +and mighty possession as his arms closed about her, and he turned +her face up, so that for the first time he kissed the soft red +lips that for some inscrutable reason the God of all things had +given into his keeping this day. + +And then, holding her close, with her arms still tighter about his +neck, he cried softly, + +"I'm goin' to take you, little girl. You're goin' with Peter and +me, for ever--and ever. And we'll go--tonight!" + +When Peter came back, just in the last sunset glow of the evening, +he found his master alone in the bit of jackpine opening, and Nada +was swiftly crossing the larger meadow that lay between them and +the break in Cragg's Ridge, beyond which was Jed Hawkins' cabin. +It was not the same Jolly Roger whom he had left half an hour +before. It was not the man of the hiding-place in the rock-pile. +Jolly Roger McKay, standing there in the last soft glow of the +day, was no longer the fugitive and the outcast. He stood with +silent lips, yet his soul was crying out its gratitude to all that +God of Life which breathed its sweetness of summer evening about +him. He was the First Possessor of the earth. In that hour, that +moment, he would not have sold his place for all the happiness of +all the remaining people in the world. He cried out aloud, and +Peter, squatted at his feet with his red tongue lolling out, +listened to him. + +"She is mine, mine, mine," he was saying, and he repeated that +word over and over, until Peter quirked his ears, and wondered +what it meant. And then, seeing Peter, Jolly Roger laughed softly, +and bent over him, with a look of awe and wonderment mingling with +the happiness in his face. + +"She's mine--ours," he cried boyishly. "God A'mighty took a hand, +Pied-Bot, and she's going with us! We're going tonight, when the +moon comes up. And Peter--Peter--we're going straight to the +Missioner's, and he'll marry us, and then we'll hit for a place +where no one in the world will ever find us. The law may want us, +Pied-Bot, but God--this God all around--is good to us. And we'll +try and pay Him back. We will, Peter!" + +He straightened himself, and faced the west. Then he picked up the +bundle Nada had brought, and dived through the jackpines, with +Peter at his heels. Swiftly they moved through the shadowing dusk +of the plain, and came at last to the Stew-Kettle, and to their +hiding-place under the shoulders of Gog and Magog. There was still +a faint twilight in the tunnel, and in this twilight Jolly Roger +McKay packed his possessions; and then, with fingers that trembled +as if they were committing a sacrilege, he drew Nada's few +treasures from her bundle and placed them tenderly with his own. +And all the time Peter heard him saying things under his breath, +so softly that it was like the whispered drone of song. + +In darkness they went down through the rocks to the plain, and +half an hour later they came to the break in the Ridge, and went +through it, and stopped in the black shadow of a great rock, with +Jed Hawkins' cabin half a rifle-shot away. Here Nada was to come +to them with the first rising of the moon. + +It was very still all about, and Peter sensed a significance in +the silence, and lay very quietly watching the light in the cabin, +and the shadowy form of his master. Also he knew that somewhere in +the distance a storm was gathering. The breath of it was in the +air, though the sky was clear of cloud overhead, except for the +haze of a gray and ghostly mist that lay between them and the +yellow stars. Jolly Roger counted the seconds between then and +moonrise. It seemed hours before the golden rim of it rose in the +east. Shadows grew swiftly after that. Grotesque things took +shape. The rock-caps of the ridge began to light up, like timid +signal-fires. Black spruce and balsam and cedar glistened as if +bathed in enamel. And the moon came on, and mellow floods of light +played in the valleys and plains, and danced over the forest-tops, +and in voice-less and soundless miracle called upon all living +things to look upon the glory of God. In his soul Jolly Roger +McKay felt the urge and the call of that voiceless Master Power, +and through his lips came an unconscious whisper of prayer--of +gratitude. + +And he watched the light in Jed Hawkins' cabin, and strained his +ears to hear a sound of footsteps coming through the moonlight. + +But there was no change. The light did not move. A door did not +open or close. There was no sound, except the growing whisper of +the wind, the call of a night bird, and the howl of the old gray +wolf that always cried out to the moon from the tangled depths of +Indian Tom's swamp. + +A thrill of nervousness swept through Jolly Roger. He waited half +an hour, three-quarters, an hour--after the moon had risen. And +Nada did not come. The nervousness grew in him, and he moved out +into the moon-glow, and slowly and watchfully followed the edge of +the rock-shadows until he came to the fringe of cedars and spruce +behind the cabin. Peter, careful not to snap a twig under his +paws, followed closely. They came to the cabin, and there--very +distinctly--Jolly Roger McKay heard the low moaning of a voice. + +He edged his way to the window, and looked in. + +Crouched beside a chair in the middle of the floor was Jed +Hawkins's woman. She was moaning, and her thin body was rocking +back and forth, and with her hands clasped at her bony breast she +was staring at the open door. With a shock Jolly Roger saw that +except for the strangely crying old woman the cabin was empty. +Sudden fear chilled his blood--a fear that scarcely took form +before he was at the door, and in the cabin. The woman's eyes were +red and wild as she stared at him, and she stopped her moaning, +and her hands unclasped. Jolly Roger went nearer and bent over her +and shivered at the half-mad terror he saw in her face. + +"Where is Nada?" he demanded. "Tell me--where is she?" + +"Gone, gone, gone," crooned the woman, clutching her hands at her +breast again. "Jed has taken her--taken her to Mooney's shack, +over near the railroad. Oh, my God!--I tried to keep her, but I +couldn't. He dragged her away, and tonight he's sellin' her to +Mooney--the devil--the black brute--the tie-cutter--" + +She choked, and began rocking herself back and forth, and the +moaning came again from her thin lips. Fiercely McKay gripped her +by the shoulder. + +"Mooney's shack--where?" he cried. "Quick! Tell me!" + +"A thousand--a thousand--he's givin' a thousand dollars to git her +in the shack--alone," she cried in a dull, sing-song voice. "The +road out there leads straight to it. Near the railroad. A mile. +Two miles. I tried to keep him from doin' it, but I couldn't--I +couldn't--" + +Jolly Roger heard no more. He was out of the door, and running +across the open, with Peter racing close behind him. They struck +the road, and Jolly Roger swung into it, and continued to run +until the breath was out of his lungs. And all that time the +things Nada had told him about Jed Hawkins and the tie-cutter were +rushing madly through his brain. An hour or two ago, when the +words had come from her lips in the jackpine thicket, he had +believed that Nada was frightened, that a distorted fear possessed +her, that such a thing as she had half confessed to him was too +monstrous to happen. And now he cried out aloud, a groaning, +terrible cry as he went on. Hawkins and Nada had reached Mooney's +shack long before this, a shack buried deep in the wilderness, a +shack from which no cries could be heard-- + +Peter, trotting behind, whined at what he heard in Jolly Roger +McKay's panting voice. And the moon shone on them as they +staggered and ran, and here and there dark clouds were racing past +the face of it, and the slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in +the air. And then came the time when one of the dark clouds rode +under the moon and the two ran on in darkness. The cloud passed, +and the moon flooded the road again with light--and suddenly Jolly +Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart almost broke in the +strain of that moment. + +Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was +Nada. Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid +light of the moon. Her hair was tangled and twisted about her +shoulders and over her breast. One arm was bare where the sleeve +had been torn away, and her girlish breast gleamed white where her +waist had been stripped half from her body. And then she saw Jolly +Roger in the trail, with wide-open, reaching arms, and with a cry +such as Peter had never heard come from her lips before she ran +into them, and held up her face to him in the yellow moon-light. +In her eyes--great, tearless, burning pools--he saw the tragedy +and yet it was only that, and not horror, not despair, NOT the +other thing. His arms closed crushingly about her. Her slim body +seemed to become a part of him. Her hot lips reached up and clung +to his. + +And then, + +"Did--he get you--to--Mooney's shack--" He felt her body stiffen +against him. + +"No," she panted. "I fought--every inch. He dragged me, and hit +me, and tore my clothes--but I fought. And up there--in the trail +--he turned his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and +I hit him with a club. And he's there, now, on his back--" + +She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's +length. A cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was +low, and terrible. + +"Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can," he said, +fighting to speak coolly. "Take Peter--and go. You will make it +before the storm breaks. I am going back to have a few words with +Jed Hawkins--alone. Then I will join you, and the Missioner will +marry us--" + +The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear +had disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of +the night. Her red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure +of their purity and love, and for a moment he held her close in +his arms again, kissing her as he might have kissed an angel, +while her little hands stroked his face, and she laughed softly +and strangely in her happiness--the wonder of a woman's soul +rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her girlhood. + +And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to +go. + +"Hurry, little girl," he said. "Hurry--before the storm breaks!" + +She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the +trail, not once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he +would this night wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation. +Never before had he felt the desire to kill. But he felt that +desire now. Before the night was much older he would do unto +Hawkins and Mooney as Hawkins had done unto Peter. He would leave +them alive, but broken and crippled and forever punished. + +And then he stumbled over something in another darkening of the +moon. He stopped, and the light came again, and he looked down +into the upturned face of Jed Hawkins. It was a distorted and +twisted face, and its one eye was closed. The body did not move. +And close to the head was the club which Nada had used. + +Jolly Roger laughed grimly. Fate was kind to him in making a half +of his work so easy. But he wanted Hawkins to rouse himself first. +Roughly he stirred him with the toe of his boot. + +"Wake up, you fiend," he said. "I'm going to break your bones, +your arms, your legs, just as you broke Peter--and that poor old +woman back in the cabin. Wake up!" + +Jed Hawkins made no stir. He was strangely limp. For many seconds +Jolly Roger stood looking down at him, his eyes growing wider, +more staring. Darkness came again. It was an inky blackness this +time, like a blotter over the world. Low thunder came out of the +west. The tree-tops whispered in a frightened sort of way. And +Jolly Roger could hear his heart beating. He dropped upon his +knees, and his hands moved over Jed Hawkins. For a space not even +Peter could have heard his movement or his breath. + +In the ebon darkness he rose to his feet, and the night-- +lifelessly still for a moment--heard the one choking word that +came from his lips. + +"Dead!" + +And there he stood, the heat of his rage changing to an icy chill, +his heart dragging within him like a chunk of lead, his breath +choking in his throat. Jed Hawkins was dead! He was growing stiff +there in the black trail. He had ceased to breathe. He had ceased +to be a part of life. And the wind, rising a little with the +coming of storm, seemed to whisper and chortle over the horrible +thing, and the lone wolf in Indian Tom's swamp howled weirdly, as +if he smelled death. + +Jolly Roger McKay's finger-nails dug into the flesh of his palms. +If he had killed the human viper at his feet, if his own hands had +meted out his punishment, he would not have felt the clammy terror +that wrapped itself about him in the darkness. But he had come too +late. It was Nada who had killed Jed Hawkins. Nada, with her +woman's soul just born in all its glory, had taken the life of her +foster-father. And Canadian law knew no excuse for killing. + +The chill crept to his finger-tips, and unconsciously, in a +childish sort of way, he sobbed between his clenched teeth. The +thunder was rolling nearer, and it was like a threatening voice, a +deep-toned booming of a thing inevitable and terrible. He felt the +air shivering about him, and suddenly something moved softly +against his foot, and he heard a questioning whine. It was Peter-- +come back to him in this hour when he needed a living thing to +give him courage. With a groan he dropped on his knees again, and +clutched his hands about Peter. + +"My God," he breathed huskily. "Peter, she's killed him. And she +mustn't know. We mustn't let anyone know--" + +And there he stopped, and Peter felt him growing rigid as stone, +and for many moments Jolly Roger's body seemed as lifeless as that +of the man who lay with up-turned face in the trail. Then he +fumbled in a pocket and found a pencil and an old envelope. And on +the envelope, with the darkness so thick he could not see his +hand, he scribbled, "I killed Jed Hawkins," and after that he +signed his name firmly and fully--"Jolly Roger McKay." + +Then he tucked the envelope under Jed Hawkins' body, where the +rain could not get at it. And after that, to make the evidence +complete, he covered the dead man's face with his coat. + +"We've got to do it, Peter," he said, and there was a new note in +his voice as he stood up on his feet again. "We've got to do it-- +for her. We'll--tell her we caught Jed Hawkins in the trail and +killed him." + +Caution, cleverness, his old mental skill returned to him. He +dragged the boot-legger's body to a new spot, turned it face down, +threw the club away, and kicked up the earth with his boots to +give signs of a struggle. + +The note in his voice was triumph--triumph in spite of its +heartbreak--as he turned back over the trail after he had +finished, and spoke to Peter. + +"We may have done some things we oughtn't to, Pied-Bot," he said, +"but tonight I sort o' think we've tried to make--restitution. And +if they hang us, which they probably will some time, I sort o' +think it'll make us happy to know we've done it--for her. Eh, +Pied-Bot?" + +And the moon sailed out for a space, and shone on the dead +whiteness of Jolly Roger's face. And on the lips of that face was +a strange, cold smile, a smile of mastery, of exaltation, and the +eyes were looking straight ahead--the eyes of a man who had made +his sacrifice for a thing more precious to him than his God. + +Only now and then did the moon gleam through the slow-moving +masses of black cloud when he came to the edge of the Indian +settlement clearing three miles away, where stood the cabin of the +Missioner. The storm had not broken, but seemed holding back its +forces for one mighty onslaught upon the world. The thunder was +repressed, and the lightning held in leash, with escaping flashes +of it occasionally betraying the impending ambuscades of the sky. + +The clearing itself was a blot of stygian darkness, with a yellow +patch of light in the center of it--the window of the Missioner's +cabin. And Jolly Roger stood looking at it for a space, as a +carven thing of rock might have stared. His heart was dead. His +soul crushed. His dream broken. There remained only his brain, his +mind made up, his worship for the girl--a love that had changed +from a thing of joy to a fire of agony within him. Straight ahead +he looked, knowing there was only one thing for him to do. And +only one. There was no alternative. No hope. No change of fortune +that even the power of God might bring about. What lay ahead of +him was inevitable. + +After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory +of dying for one's country--or for a great love. And Jolly Roger +McKay felt that strength as he strode through the blackness, and +knocked at the door, and went in to face Nada and the little old +gray-haired Missioner in the lampglow. + +Swift as one of the flashes of lightning in the sky the anxiety +and fear had gone out of Nada's face, and in an instant it was +flooded with the joy of his coming. She did not mark the strange +change in him, but went to him as she had gone to him in the +trail, and Jolly Roger's arms closed about her, but gently this +time, and very tenderly, as he might have held a little child he +was afraid of hurting. Then she felt the chill of his lips as she +pressed her own to them. Startled, she looked up into his eyes. +And as he had done in the trail, so now Jolly Roger stood her away +from him, and faced the Missioner. In a cold, hard voice he told +what had happened to Nada that evening, and of the barbarous +effort Jed Hawkins had made to sell her to Mooney. Then, from a +pocket inside his shirt, he drew out a small, flat leather wallet, +and thrust it in the little Missioner's hand. + +"There's close to a thousand dollars in that," he said. "It's +mine. And I'm giving it to you--for Nada. I want you to keep her, +and care for her, and mebby some day--" + +With both her hands Nada clutched his arm. Her eyes had widened. +Swift pallor had driven the color from her face, and a broken cry +was in her voice. + +"I'm goin' with you," she protested. "I'm goin' with you--and +Peter!" + +"You can't--now," he said. "I've got to go alone, Nada. I went +back--and I killed Jed Hawkins." + +Over the roof of the cabin rolled a crash of thunder. As the +explosion of it rocked the floor under their feet, Jolly Roger +pointed to a door, and said, + +"Father, if you will leave us alone--just a minute--" + +White-faced, clutching the wallet, the little gray Missioner +nodded, and went to the door, and as he opened it and entered into +the darkness of the other room he saw Jolly Roger McKay open wide +his arms, and the girl go into them. After that the storm broke. +The rain descended in a deluge upon the cabin roof. The black +night was filled with the rumble and roar and the hissing +lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly freed of bondage. And +in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a little gray man +of tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer and of faith +in God--his heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he waited. +The minutes passed. Five. Ten. And then there came a louder +roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner +knew that a door was opened--and closed. + +He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. +Huddled at the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face +buried in the lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair--lay +Nada, and close beside her was Peter. He went to her. Tenderly he +knelt down beside her. His thin arm went about her, and as the +storm raved and shrieked above them he tried to comfort her--and +spoke of God. + +And through that storm, his head bowed, his heart gone, went Jolly +Roger McKay--heading north. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Peter, thrust back from the door through which through which his +master had gone, listened vainly for the sound of returning +footsteps in the beat of rain and the crash of thunder outside. A +strange thing had burned itself into his soul, a thing that made +his flesh quiver and set hot fires running in his blood. As a dog +sometimes senses the stealthy approach of death, so he began to +sense the tragedy of this night that had brought with it not only +a chaos of blackness and storm, but an anguish which roused an +answering whimper in his throat as he turned toward Nada. + +She was crumpled with her head in her arms, where she had flung +herself with Jolly Roger's last kiss of worship on her lips, and +she was sobbing like a child with its heart broken. And beside her +knelt the old gray Missioner, man of God in the deep forest, who +stroked her hair with his thin hand, whispering courage and +consolation to her, with the wind and rain beating overhead and +the windows rattling to the accompaniment of ghostly voices that +shrieked and wailed in the tree-tops outside. + +Peter trembled at the sobbing, but his heart and his desire were +with the man who had gone. In his unreasoning little soul it was +Jed Hawkins who was rattling the windows with his unseen hands and +who was pounding at the door with the wind, and who was filling +the black night with its menace and fear. He hated this man, who +lay back in the trail with his lifeless face turned up to the +deluge that poured out of the sky. And he was afraid of the man, +even as he hated him, and he believed that Nada was afraid of him, +and that because of her fear she was crying there in the middle of +the floor, with Father John patting her shoulder and stroking her +hair, and saying things to her which he could not understand. He +wanted to go to her. He wanted to feel himself close against her, +as Nada had held him so often in those hours when she had +unburdened her grief and her unhappiness to him. But even stronger +than this desire was the one to follow his master. + +He went to the door, and thrust his nose against the crack at the +bottom of it. He felt the fierceness of the wind fighting to break +in, and the broken mist of it filled his nostrils. But there came +no scent of Jolly Roger McKay. For a moment he struggled at the +crack with his paws. Then he flopped himself down, his heart +beating fast, and fixed his eyes inquiringly on Nada and the +Missioner. + +His four and a half months of life in the big wilderness, and his +weeks of constant comradeship with Jolly Roger, had developed in +him a brain that was older than his body. No process of reasoning +could impinge upon him the fact that his master was an outlaw, but +with the swift experiences of tragedy and hiding and never-ceasing +caution had come instinctive processes which told him almost as +much as reason. He knew something was wrong tonight. It was in the +air. He breathed it. It thrilled in the crash of thunder, in the +lightning fire, in the mighty hands of the wind rocking the cabin +and straining at the windows. And vaguely the knowledge gripped +him that the dead man back in the trail was responsible for it +all, and that because of this something that had happened his +mistress was crying and his master was gone. And he believed he +should also have gone with Jolly Roger into the blackness and +mystery of the storm, to fight with him against the one creature +in all the world he hated--the dead man who lay back in the +thickness of gloom between the forest walls. + +And the Missioner was saying to Nada, in a quiet, calm voice out +of which the tragedies of years had burned all excitement and +passion: + +"God will forgive him, my child. In His mercy He will forgive +Roger McKay, because he killed Jed Hawkins to save YOU. But man +will not forgive. The law has been hunting him because he is an +outlaw, and to outlawry he has added what the law will call +murder. But God will not look at it in that way. He will look into +the heart of the man, the man who sacrificed himself--" + +And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting +hand, and Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the +lampglow. + +"I don't care what God thinks," she cried passionately. "God +didn't do right today. Mister Roger told me everything, that he +was an outlaw, an' I oughtn't to marry him. But I didn't care. I +loved him. I could hide with him. An' we were coming to have you +marry us tonight when God let Jed Hawkins drag me away, to sell me +to a man over on the railroad--an' it was God who let Mister Roger +go back and kill him. I tell you He didn't do right! He didn't--he +didn't--because Mister Roger brought me the first happiness I ever +knew, an' I loved him, an' he loved me--an' God was wicked to let +him kill Jed Hawkins--" + +Her voice cried out, a woman's soul broken in a girl's body, and +Peter whimpered and watched the Missioner as he raised Nada to her +feet and went with her into his bedroom, where a few minutes +before he had lighted a lamp. And Peter crept in quietly after +them, and when the Missioner had gone and closed the door, leaving +them alone in their tragedy, Nada seemed to see him for the first +time and slowly she reached out her arms. + +"Peter!" she whispered. "Peter--Peter--" + +In the minutes that followed, Peter could feel her heart beating. +Clutched against her breast he looked up at the white, beautiful +face, the trembling throat, the wide-open blue eyes staring at the +one black window between them and the outside night. A lull had +come in the storm. It was quiet and ominous stillness, and the +ticking of a clock, old and gray like the Missioner himself, +filled the room. And Nada, seated on the edge of Father John's +bed, no longer looked like the young girl of "seventeen goin' on +eighteen." That afternoon, in the hidden jackpine open, with its +sweet-scented jasmines, its violets and its crimson strawberries +under their feet, the soul of a woman had taken possession of her +body. In that hour the first happiness of her life had come to +her. She had heard Jolly Roger McKay tell her those things which +she already knew--that he was an outlaw, and that he was hiding +down on the near-edge of civilization because the Royal Mounted +were after him farther north--and that he was not fit to love her, +and that it was a crime to let her love him. It was then the soul +of the woman had come to her in all its triumph. She had made her +choice, definitely and decisively, without hesitation and without +fear. And now, as she stared unseeingly at the window against +which the rain was beating, the woman in her girlish body rose in +her mightier than in the hour of her happiness, fighting to find a +way--crying out for the man she loved. + +Her mind swept back in a single flash through all the years she +had lived, through her years of unhappiness and torment as the +foster-girl of Jed Hawkins and his broken, beaten wife; through +summers and winters that had seemed ages to her, eternities of +desolation, of heartache, of loneliness, with the big wilderness +her one friend on earth. As the window rattled in a fresh blast of +storm, she thought of the day months ago when she had accidentally +stumbled upon the hiding-place of Roger McKay. Since that day he +had been her God, and she had lived in a paradise. He had been +father, mother, brother, and at last--what she most yearned for--a +lover to her. And this day, when for the first time he had held +her in his arms, when the happiness of all the earth had reached +out to them, God had put it into Jed Hawkins' heart to destroy +her--and Jolly Roger had killed him! + +With a sharp little cry she sprang to her feet, so suddenly that +Peter fell with a thump to the floor. He looked up at her, +puzzled, his jaws half agape. She was breathing quickly. Her +slender body was quivering. Suddenly Peter saw the fire in her +eyes and the flame that was rushing into her white cheeks. Then +she turned to him, and panted in a wild little whisper, so low +that the Missioner could not hear: + +"Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill +Jed Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be +killed. Peter--Peter--we don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' +with him. We're goin'--goin'--" + +She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she +strained at it with all her strength, and he could hear her +sobbing: + +"We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'--if we die for it!" + +An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A +gust of wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada +saw a knife in an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped +for it, and clutched it in her hand as she climbed through the +window and dropped to the soggy ground beneath. In a single leap +Peter followed her. Blackness swallowed them as they turned toward +the trail leading north--the only trail which Jolly Roger could +travel on a night like this. They heard the voice of the Missioner +calling from the window behind them. Then a crash of thunder set +the earth rolling under their feet, and the lull in the storm came +to an end. The sky split open with the vivid fire of lightning. +The trees wailed and whined, the rain fell again in a smothering +deluge, and through it Nada ran, gripping the knife as her one +defense against the demons of darkness--and always close at her +side ran Peter. + +He could not see her in that pitchy blackness, except when the +lightning flashes came. Then she was like a ghostly wraith, with +drenched clothes clinging to her until she seemed scarcely +dressed, her wet hair streaming and her wide, staring eyes looking +straight ahead. After the lightning flashes, when the world was +darkest, he could hear the stumbling tread of her feet and the +panting of her breath, and now and then the swish of brush as it +struck across her face and breast. The rain had washed away the +scent of his master's feet but he knew they were following Jolly +Roger, and that the girl was running to overtake him. In him was +the desire to rush ahead, to travel faster through the night, but +Nada's stumbling feet and her panting breath and the strange white +pictures he saw of her when the sky split open with fire held him +back. Something told him that Nada must reach Jolly Roger. And he +was afraid she would stop. He wanted to bark to give her +encouragement, as he had often barked in their playful races in +the green plain-lands on the farther side of Cragg's Ridge. But +the rain choked him. It beat down upon him with the weight of +heavy hands, it slushed up into his face from pools in the trail +and drove the breath from him when he attempted to open his jaws. +So he ran close--so close that at times Nada felt the touch of his +body against her. + +In these first minutes of her fight to overtake the man she loved +Nada heard but one voice--a voice crying out from her heart and +brain and soul, a voice rising above the tumult of thunder and +wind, urging her on, whipping the strength from her frail body in +pitiless exhortation. Jolly Roger was less than half an hour ahead +of her. And she must overtake him--quickly--before the forests +swallowed him, before he was gone from her life forever. + +The wall of blackness against which she ran did not frighten her. +When the brush tore at her face and hair she swung free of it, and +stumbled on. Twice she ran blindly into broken trees that lay +across her path, and dragged her bruised body through their +twisted tops, moaning to Peter and clutching tightly to the +sheathed knife in her hand. And the wild spirits that possessed +the night seemed to gather about her, and over her, exulting in +the helplessness of their victim, shrieking in weird and savage +joy at the discovery of this human plaything struggling against +their might. Never had Peter heard thunder as he heard it now. It +rocked the earth under his feet. It filled the world with a +ceaseless rumble, and the lightning came like flashes from swift- +loading guns, and with it all a terrific assault of wind and rain +that at last drove Nada down in a crumpled heap, panting for +breath, with hands groping out wildly for him. + +Peter came to them, sodden and shivering. His warm tongue found +the palm of her hand, and for a space Nada hugged him close to +her, while she bowed her head until her drenched curls became a +part of the mud and water of the trail. Peter could hear her +sobbing for breath. And then suddenly, there came a change. The +thunder was sweeping eastward. The lightning was going with it. +The wind died out in wailing sobs among the treetops, and the rain +fell straight down. Swiftly as its fury had come, the July storm +was passing. And Nada staggered to her feet again and went on. + +Her mind began to react with the lessening of the storm, dragging +itself out quickly from under the oppression of fear and shock. +She began to reason, and with that reason the beginning of faith +and confidence gave her new strength. She knew that Jolly Roger +would take this trail, for it was the one trail leading from the +Missioner's cabin through the thick forest country north. And in +half an hour he would not travel far. The thrilling thought came +to her that possibly he had sought shelter in the lee of a big +tree trunk during the fury of the storm. If he had done that he +would be near, very near. She paused in the trail and gathered her +breath, and cried out his name. Three times she called it, and +only the low whine in Peter's throat came in answer. Twice again +during the next ten minutes she cried out as loudly as she could +into the darkness. And still no answer came back to her through +the gloom ahead. + +The trail had dipped, and she felt the deepening slush of swamp- +mire under her feet. She sank in it to her shoe-tops, and stumbled +into pools knee-deep, and Peter wallowed in it to his belly. A +quarter of an hour they fought through it to the rising ground +beyond. And by that time the last of the black storm clouds had +passed overhead. The rain had ceased. The rumble of thunder came +more faintly. There was no lightning, and the tree-tops began to +whisper softly, as if rejoicing in the passing of the wind. About +them--everywhere--they could hear the run and drip of water, the +weeping of the drenched trees, the gurgle of flooded pools, and +the trickle of tiny rivulets that splashed about their feet. +Through a rift in the breaking clouds overhead came a passing +flash of the moon. + +"We'll find him now, Peter," moaned the girl. "We'll find him-- +now. He can't be very far ahead--" + +And Peter waited, holding his breath, listening for an answer to +the cry that went out for Jolly Roger McKay. + +The glory of July midnight, with a round, full moon straight +overhead, followed the stress of storm. The world had been lashed +and inundated, every tree whipped of its rot and slag, every blade +of grass and flower washed clean. Out of the earth rose sweet +smells of growing life, the musky fragrance of deep moss and +needle-mold, and through the clean air drifted faintly the aroma +of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of unending canopies and +glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into the night. The +deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an invisible +and mysterious life--life that was still, yet wide-awake, +breathing, watchful, drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air +which had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar +of wind and rain. And the moon, like a queen who had so ordered +these things, looked down in a mighty triumph. Her radiance, +without dust or fog or forest-smoke to impede its way, was like +the mellow glow of half-day. It streamed through the treetops in +paths of gold and silver, throwing dark shadows where it failed to +penetrate, and gathering in wide pools where its floods poured +through broad rifts in the roofs of the forest. And the trail, +leading north, was like a river of shimmering silver, splitting +the wilderness from earth to sky. + +In this trail, clearly made in the wet soil, were Jolly Roger's +foot-prints, and in a wider space, where at some time a trapper +had cleared himself a spot for his tepee or shack, Jolly Roger had +paused to rest after his fight through the storm--and had then +continued on his way. And into this clearing, three hours after +they left the Missioner's cabin, came Nada and Peter. + +They came slowly, the girl a slim wraith in the moon-light; in the +open they stood for a moment, and Peter's heart weighed heavily +within him as his mistress cried out once more for Jolly Roger. +Her voice rose only in a sob, and ended in a sob. The last of her +strength was gone. Her little figure swayed, and her face was +white and haggard, and in her drawn lips and staring eyes was the +agony of despair. She had lost, and she knew that she had lost as +she crumpled down in the trail, crying out sobbingly to the +footprints which led so clearly ahead of her. + +"Peter, I can't go on," she moaned. "I can't--go on--" + +Her hands clutched at her breast. Peter saw the glint of the +moonlight on the ivory sheath of the Eskimo knife, and he saw her +white face turned up to the sky--and also that her lips were +moving, but he did not hear his name come from them, or any other +sound. He whined, and foot by foot began to nose along the trail +on the scent left by Jolly Roger. It was very clear to his +nostrils, and it thrilled him. He looked back, and again he whined +his encouragement to the girl. + +"Peter!" she called. "Peter!" + +He returned to her. She had drawn the knife out of its scabbard, +and the cold steel glistened in her hand. Her eyes were shining, +and she reached out and clutched Peter close up against her, so +that he could hear the choke and throb of her heart. + +"Oh, Peter, Peter," she panted. "If you could only talk! If you +could run and catch Mister Roger, an' tell him I'm here, an' that +he must come back--" + +She hugged him closer. He sensed the sudden thrill that leapt +through her body. + +"Peter," she whispered, "will you do it?" + +For a few moments she did not seem to breathe. Then he heard a +quick little cry, a sob of inspiration and hope, and her arms came +from about him, and he saw the knife flashing in the yellow +moonlight. + +He did not understand, but he knew that he must watch her +carefully. She had bent her head, and her hair, nearly dry, glowed +softly in the face of the moon. Her hands were fumbling in the +disheveled curls, and Peter saw the knife flash back and forth, +and heard the cut of it, and then he saw that in her hand she held +a thick brown tress of hair that she had severed from her head. He +was puzzled. And Nada dropped the knife, and his curiosity +increased when she tore a great piece out of her tattered dress, +and carefully wrapped the tress of hair in it. Then she drew him +to her again, and tied the knotted fold of dress securely about +his neck; after that she tore other strips from her dress, and +wound them about his neck until he felt muffled and half +smothered. + +And all the time she was talking to him in a half sobbing, excited +little voice, and the blood in Peter's body ran swifter, and the +strange thrill in him was greater. When she had finished she rose +to her feet, and stood there swaying back and forth, like one of +the spruce-top shadows, while she pointed up the moonlit trail. + +"Go, Peter!" she cried softly. "Quick! Follow him, Peter--catch +him--bring him back! Mister Roger--Jolly Roger--go, Peter! Go--go +--go--" + +It was strange to Peter. But he was beginning to understand. He +sniffed in Jolly Roger's footprints, and then he looked up +quickly, and saw that it had pleased the girl. She was urging him +on. He sniffed from one footprint to another, and Nada clapped her +hands and cried out that he was right--for him to hurry--hurry-- + +Impulse, thought, swiftly growing knowledge of something to be +done thrilled in his brain. Nada wanted him to go. She wanted him +to go to Jolly Roger. And she had put something around his neck +which she wanted him to take with him. He whined eagerly, a bit +excitedly. Then he began to trot. Instinctively it was his test. +She did not call him back. He flattened his ears, listening for +her command to return, but it did not come. And then the thrill in +him leapt over all other things. He was right. He was not +abandoning Nada. He was not running away. She WANTED him to go! + +The night swallowed him. He became a part of the yellow floods of +its moonlight, a part of its shifting shadows, a part of its +stillness, its mystery, its promise of impending things. He knew +that grim and terrible happenings had come with the storm, and he +still sensed the nearness of tragedy in this night-world through +which he was passing. He did not go swiftly, yet he went three +times as fast as the girl and he had traveled together. He was +cautious and watchful, and at intervals he stopped and listened, +and swallowed hard to keep the whine of eagerness out of his +throat. Now that he was alone every instinct in him was keyed to +the pulse and beat of life about him. He knew the Night People of +the deep forests were awake. Softly padded, clawed, sharp-beaked +and feathered--the prowlers of darkness were on the move. With the +stillness of shadows they were stealing through the moonlit +corridors of the wilderness, or hovering gray-winged and ghostly +in the ambuscades of the treetops, eager to waylay and kill, +hungering for the flesh and blood of creatures weaker than +themselves. Peter knew. Both heritage and experience warned him. +And he watched the shadows, and sniffed the air, and kept his +fangs half bared and ready as he followed the trail of McKay. + +He was not stirred by the impulse of adventure alone. Without the +finesse of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he +had sensed a responsibility. It was present in the closely drawn +strips of faded cloth about his neck. It was, in a way, a part of +the girl herself, a part of her flesh and blood, a part of her +spirit--something vital to her and dependent upon him. He was +ready to guard it with every instinct of caution and every ounce +of courage there was in him. And to protect it meant to fight. +That was the first law of his breed, the primal warning which came +to him through the red blood of many generations of wilderness +forefathers. So he listened, and he watched, and his blood pounded +hot in his veins as he followed the footprints in the trail. A bit +of brush, swinging suddenly free from where it had been prisoned +by the storm, drew a snarl from him as he faced the sound with the +quickness of a cat. A gray streak, passing swiftly over the trail +ahead of him, stirred a low growl in his throat. It was a lynx, +and for a space Peter paused, and then sped soft-footed past the +moon-lit spot where the stiletto-clawed menace of the woods had +passed. + +Now that he was alone, and no longer accompanied by a human +presence whose footsteps and scent held the wild things aloof and +still, Peter felt nearer and nearer to him the beat and stir of +life. Powerful beaks, instead of remaining closed and without +sound, snapped and hissed at him as the big gray owls watched his +passing. He heard the rustling of brush, soft as the stir of a +woman's dress, where living things were secretly moving, and he +heard the louder crash of clumsy and piggish feet, and caught the +strong scent of a porcupine as it waddled to its midnight lunch of +poplar bark. Then the trail ended, and Jolly Roger's scent led +into the pathless forest, with its shifting streams and pools of +moonlight, its shadows and black pits of darkness. And here--now-- +Peter began his trespass into the strongholds of the People of the +Night. He heard a wolf howl, a cry filled with loneliness, yet +with a shivering death-note in it; he caught the musky, skunkish +odor of a fox that was stalking prey in the face of a whispering +breath of wind; once, in a moment of dead stillness, he listened +to the snap of teeth and the crackle of bones in one of the dark +pits, where a fisher-cat--with eyes that gleamed like coals of +fire--was devouring the warm and bleeding carcass of a mother +partridge. And beaks snapped at him more menacingly as he went on, +and gray shapes floated over his head, and now and then he heard +the cries of dying things--the agonized squeak of a wood-mouse, +the cry of a day-bird torn from its sleeping place by a sinuous, +beady-eyed creature of fur and claw, the noisy screaming of a +rabbit swooped upon and pierced to the vitals by one of the gray- +feathered pirates of the air. And then, squarely in the center of +a great pool of moonlight, Peter came upon a monster. It was a +bear, a huge mother bear, with two butter-fat cubs wrestling and +rolling in the moon glow. Peter had never seen a bear. But the +mother, who raised her brown nose suddenly from the cool mold out +of which she had been digging lily-bulbs, had seen dogs. She had +seen many dogs, and she had heard their howl, and she knew that +always they traveled with man. She gave a deep, chesty sniff, and +close after that sniff a WHOOF that startled the cubs like the +lashing end of a whip. They rolled to her, and with two cuffs of +the mother's huge paws they were headed in the right direction, +and all three crashed off into darkness. + +In spite of his swelling heart Peter let out a little yip. It was +a great satisfaction, just at a moment when his nerves were +getting unsteady, to discover that a monster like this one in the +moonlight was anxious to run away from him. And Peter went on, a +bit of pride and jauntiness in his step, his bony tail a little +higher. + +A mile farther on, in another yellow pool of the moon, lay the +partly devoured carcass of a fawn. A wolf had killed it, and had +fed, and now two giant owls were rending and tearing in the flesh +and bowels of what the wolf had left. They were Gargantuans of +their kind, one a male, the other a female. Their talons warm in +blood, their beaks red, their slow brains drunk with a ravenous +greed, they rose on their great wings in sullen rage when Peter +came suddenly upon them. He had ceased to be afraid of owls. There +was something shivery in the gritting of their beaks, especially +in the dark places, but they had never attacked him, and had +always kept out of his reach. So their presence in a black spruce +top directly over the dead fawn did not hold him back now. He +sniffed at the fresh, sweet meat, and hunger all at once possessed +him. Where the wolf had stripped open a tender flank he began to +eat, and as he ate he growled, so that warning of his +possessorship reached the spruce top. + +In answer to it came a stir of wings, and the male owl launched +himself out into the moon glow. The female followed. For a few +moments they floated like gray ghosts over Peter, silent as the +night shadows. Then, with the suddenness and speed of a bolt from +a catapult, the giant male shot out of a silvery mist of gloom and +struck Peter. The two rolled over the carcass of the fawn, and for +a space Peter was dazed by the thundering beat of powerful wings, +and the hammering of the owl's beak at the back of his neck. The +male had missed his claw-hold, and driven by rage and ferocity, +fought to impale his victim from the ground, without launching +himself into the air again. Swiftly he struck, again and again, +while his wings beat like clubs. Suddenly his talons sank into the +cloth wrapped about Peter's neck. Terror and shock gave way to a +fighting madness inside Peter now. He struck up, and buried his +fangs in a mass of feathers so thick he could not feel the flesh. +He tore at the padded breast, snarling and beating with his feet, +and then, as the stiletto-points of the owl's talons sank through +the cloth into his neck, his jaws closed on one of the huge bird's +legs. His teeth sank deep, there was a snapping and grinding of +tendon and bone, and a hissing squawk of pain and fear came from +above him as the owl made a mighty effort to launch himself free. +As the five-foot pinions beat the air Peter was lifted from the +ground. But the owl's talons were hopelessly entangled in the +cloth, and the two fell in a heap again. Peter scarcely sensed +what happened after that, except that he was struggling against +death. He closed his eyes, and the leg between his jaws was broken +and twisted into pulp. The wings beat about him in a deafening +thunder, and the owl's beak tore at his flesh, until the pool of +moonlight in which they fought was red with blood. At last +something gave way. There was a ghastly cry that was like the cry +of neither bird nor beast, a weak flutter of wings, and Gargantua +of the Air staggered up into the treetops and fell with a crash +among the thick boughs of the spruce. + +Peter raised himself weakly, the severed leg of the owl dropping +from his jaws. He was half blinded. Every muscle in his body +seemed to be torn and bleeding, yet in his discomfort the +thrilling conviction came to him that he had won. He tensed +himself for another attack, hugging the ground closely as he +watched and waited, but no attack came. He could hear the flutter +and wheeze of his maimed adversary, and slowly he drew himself +back--still facing the scene of battle--until in a farther patch +of gloom he turned once more to his business of following the +trail of Jolly Roger McKay. + +There was no mark of bravado in his advance now. If he had +possessed an over-growing confidence, Gargantua's attack had set +it back, and he stole like a shifty fox through the night. Driven +into his brain was the knowledge that all things were not afraid +of him, for even the snapping beaks and floating gray shapes to +which he had paid but little attention had now become a deadly +menace. His egoism had suffered a jolt, a healthful reaction from +its too swift ascendency. He sensed the narrowness of his escape +without the mental action of reasoning it out, and his injuries +were secondary to the oppressive horror of the uncanny combat out +of which he had come alive. Yet this horror was not a fear. +Heretofore he had recognized the ghostly owl-shapes of night more +or less as a curious part of darkness, inspiring neither like nor +dislike in him. Now he hated them, and ever after his fangs +gleamed white when one of them floated over his head. + +He was badly hurt. There were ragged tears in his flank and back, +and a last stroke of Gargantua's talons had stabbed his shoulder +to the bone. Blood dripped from him, and one of his eyes was +closing, so that shapes and shadows were grotesquely dim in the +night. Instinct and caution, and the burning pains in his body, +urged him to lie down in a thicket and wait for the day. But +stronger than these were memory of the girl's urging voice, the +vague thrill of the cloth still about his neck, and the freshness +of Jolly Roger's trail as it kept straight on through the forest's +moonlit corridors and caverns of gloom. + +It was in the first graying light of July dawn that Peter dragged +himself up the rough side of a ridge and looked down into a narrow +strip of plain on the other side. Just as Nada had given up in +weakness and despair, so now he was almost ready to quit. He had +traveled miles since the owl fight, and his wounds had stiffened, +and with every step gave him excruciating pain. His injured eye +was entirely closed, and there was a strange, dull ache in the +back of his head, where Gargantua had pounded him with his beak. +The strip of valley, half hidden in its silvery mist of dawn, +seemed a long distance away to Peter, and he dropped on his belly +and began to lick his raw shoulder with a feverish tongue. He was +sick and tired, and the futility of going farther oppressed him. +He looked again down into the strip of plain, and whined. + +Then, suddenly, he smelled something that was not the musty fog- +mist that hung between the ridges. It was smoke. Peter's heart +beat faster, and he pulled himself to his feet, and went in its +direction. + +Hidden in a little grassy cup between two great boulders that +thrust themselves out from the face of the ridge, he found Jolly +Roger. First he saw the smouldering embers of a fire that was +almost out--and then his master. Jolly Roger was asleep. Storm- +beaten and strangely haggard and gray his face was turned to the +sky. Peter did not awaken him. There was something in his master's +face that quieted the low whimper in his throat. Very gently he +crept to him, and lay down. The movement, slight as it was, made +the man stir. His hand rose, and then fell limply across Peter's +body. But the fingers moved. + +Unconsciously, as if guided by the spirit and prayer of the girl +waiting far back in the forest, they twined about the cloth around +Peter's neck--his message to his master. + +And for a long time after that, as the sun rose over a wonderful +world, Peter and his master slept. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the restlessness of Peter that roused Jolly Roger. Half +awake, and before he opened his eyes, life seized upon him where +sleep had cut it off for a time last night. His muscles ached. His +neck was stiff. He seemed weighted like a log to the hard earth. +Swiftly the experience of the preceding hours rushed upon him, and +it was in the first of this wakefulness that he felt the presence +of Peter. + +He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the dog. The fact that Peter had +escaped from the cabin, and had followed him, was not altogether +amazing. It was quite the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. +But the unexpectedness of it held McKay speechless, and at first a +little disappointed. It was as if Peter had deliberately betrayed +a trust. During the storm and flight of the night McKay had +thought of him as the one connecting link remaining between him +and the girl he loved. He had left Peter to fill his place, to +guard and watch and keep alive the memory of the man who was gone. +For him there had been something of consolation in this giving up +of his comradeship to Nada. And Peter had turned traitor. + +Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was +passing behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay +squatted on his belly, with his nose straight out on the ground +between his forepaws. It was his attitude of self-immolation. His +acknowledgment of the other's right to strike with lash or club. +Yet in his eyes, bright and steady behind his mop of whiskers, +Jolly Roger saw a prayer. + +Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and +in a moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there +was a mighty something that reached from heart to heart of these +two, and Jolly Roger said, with a sound that was half laugh and +half sob in his throat, + +"Pied-Bot, you devil--you little devil--" + +His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart +jumped when he saw what it was--a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, +realizing that at last the importance of his mission was +understood, waited in eager watchfulness while his master untied +the knot. And in another moment, out in the clean and glorious sun +that had followed storm, McKay held the shining tress of Nada's +hair. + +It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him +crush the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while +strange quivers ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness +that was not rain gathered in his eyes. + +"God bless her!" he whispered. And then he said, "I wish I was a +kid, Peter--a kid. Because--if I ever wanted to cry--IT'S NOW" + +In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his +lips, Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and +looked south, back over the trail he had followed through the +blackness and storm of night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada +in Father John's cabin, urging Peter out into the wild tumult of +thunder and lightning with that precious part of her which she +knew he would love forever. Her last message to him. Her last +promise of love and faith until the end of time. + +He guessed only the beginning of the truth. And Peter, denied the +power of thought transmission because of an error in the creation +of things, ran back a little way over the trail, trying to tell +his master that Nada had come with him through the storm, and was +back in the deep forest calling for him to return. + +But McKay's mind saw nothing beyond the dimly lighted room of the +Missioner's cabin. + +He pressed his lips to the silken tress of Nada's hair, still damp +with the rain; and after that, with the care of a miser he +smoothed it out, and tied the end of the tress tightly with a +string, and put it away in the soft buckskin wallet which he +carried. + +There was a new singing in his heart as he gathered sticks with +which to build a small fire, for after this he would not travel +quite alone. + +That day they went on; and day followed day, until August came, +and north--still farther north they went into the illimitable +wilderness which reached out in the drowsing stillness of the +Flying-up-Month--the month when newly fledged things take to their +wings, and the deep forests lie asleep. + +Days added themselves into weeks, until at last they were in the +country of the Reindeer waterways. + +To the east was Hudson's Bay; westward lay the black forests and +twisting waterways of Upper Saskatchewan; and north--always north +--beckoned the lonely plains and unmapped wildernesses of the +Athabasca, the Slave and the Great Bear--toward which far country +their trail was slowly but surely wending its way. + +The woodlands and swamps were now empty of man. Cabin and shack +and Indian tepee were lifeless, and waited in the desolation of +abandonment. No smoke rose in the tree-tops; no howl of dog came +with the early dawn and the setting sun; trap lines were over- +growing, and laughter and song and the ring of the trapper's axe +were gone, leaving behind a brooding silence that seemed to pulse +and thrill like a great heart--the heart of the wild unchained for +a space from its human bondage. + +It was the vacation time--the midsummer carnival weeks of the +wilderness people. Wild things were breeding. Fur was not good. +Flesh was unfit to kill. And so they had disappeared, man, woman +and child, and their dogs as well, to foregather at the Hudson's +Bay Company's posts scattered here and there in the fastnesses of +the wilderness lands. A few weeks more and they would return. +Cabins would send up their smoke again. Brown-faced children would +play about the tepee door. Ten thousand dwellers of the forests, +white and half-breed and Indian born, would trickle in twos and +threes and family groups back into the age-old trade of a domain +that reached from Hudson's Bay to the western mountains and from +the Height of Land to the Arctic Sea. + +Until then nature was free, and in its freedom ran in riotous +silence over the land. These were days when the wolf lay with her +young, but did not howl; when the lynx yawned sleepily, and hunted +but little--days of breeding, nights of drowsy whisperings, and of +big red moons, and of streams rippling softly at lowest ebb while +they dreamed of rains and flood-time. And through it all--through +the lazy drone of insects, the rustling sighs of the tree-tops and +the subdued notes of living things ran a low and tremulous +whispering, as if nature had found for itself a new language in +this temporary absence of man. + +To Jolly Roger this was Life, It breathed for him out of the cool +earth. He heard it over him, and under him, and on all sides of +him where other ears would have found only a thing vast and +oppressive and silent. On what he called these "motherhood days of +the earth" the passing years had built his faith and his creed. + +One evening he stopped for camp at the edge of the Burntwood. From +his feet reached out the wide river, ankle deep in places, knee +deep in others, rippling and singing between sandbars and +driftwood where in May and June it had roared with the fury of +flood Peter, half asleep after their day's travel through a hot +forests watched his master. Since their flight from the edge of +civilization far south he had grown heavier and broadened out. The +hardship of adventuring and the craft of fighting for food and +life had whipped the last of his puppyhood behind him At six +months of age he was scarred, and lithe-muscled, and ready for +instant action at all times. Through the mop of Airedale whiskers +that covered his face his bright eyes were ever alert, and always +they watched the back-trail as he wondered why the slim, blue-eyed +girl they both loved and missed so much did not come. And vaguely +he wondered why it was that his master always went on and on, and +never waited for her to catch up with them. + +And Jolly Roger was changed. He was not the plump and rosy-faced +wilderness freebooter who whistled and sang away down at Cragg's +Ridge even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness +of their flight had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in +his face. But in his clear eyes was still the love of life--a +thing even stronger than the grief which was eating at his heart +as their trail reached steadily toward the Barren Lands. + +In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes +saw his master draw forth their treasure. + +It was something he had come to look for, and expect--once, twice, +and sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the +setting of the sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight +for the day, Jolly Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. +Peter drew nearer to where his master was sitting with his back to +the big rock, and his eyes glistened. Always he caught the sweet, +illusive perfume of the girl when Jolly Roger drew out their +preciously guarded package. He unwrapped it gently now, and in a +moment held in his hands the tress of Nada's hair, the last of her +they would ever possess or see. And Peter wondered again why they +did not go back to where they had left the rest of the girl. Many +times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, Jolly Roger had +tried to make him understand. And Peter tried to comprehend. But +always in his dreams he was with the girl he loved, following her, +playing with her, fighting for her, hearing her voice--feeling the +touch of her hand. In his dog soul he wanted her, just as Jolly +Roger wanted her with all the yearning and heartbreak of the man. +Yet always when he awoke from his dreams they went on again--not +south--but north. To Peter this was hopeless mystery, and he +possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor could he speak in +words the message which he carried in his heart--that last crying +agony of the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of Roger +McKay, entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would +always love in spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the +world. + +That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his +master crying out Nada's name in his sleep. + +And the next dawn they went on--still farther north. + +In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness +about him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were +struggling to break down the first law of his creed. The law might +catch him, and probably would, and when it caught him the law +might hang him--and probably would. But it would never KNOW him. +There was something grimly and tragically humorous in this. It +would never know of the consuming purity of his worship for little +children, and old people--and women. It would laugh at the +religion he had built up for himself, and it would cackle +tauntingly if he dared to say he was not wholly bad. For it +believed he was bad, and it believed he had killed Jed Hawkins, +and he knew that seven hundred men were anxious to get him, dead +or alive. + +But was he bad? + +He took the matter up one evening, with Peter. + +"If I'm bad, mebby it isn't all my fault, Pied-Bot," he said. +"Mebby it's this--" and he swept his arms out to the gathering +night." I was born in the open, on a night just like this is going +to be. My mother, before she died, told me many times how she +watched the moon come up that night, and how it seemed to look +down on her, and talk to her, like a living thing. And I've loved +the moon ever since, and the sun, and everything that's outdoors-- +and if there's a God I don't believe He ever intended man to make +a law that wasn't right according to the plans He laid out. That's +where I've got in wrong, Pied-Bot, I haven't always believed in +man-made law, and I've settled a lot of things in my own way. And +I guess I've loved trees and flowers and sunshine and wind and +storm too much. I've just wandered. And I've done things along the +way. The thrill of it got into me, Pied-Bot, and--the law wants +me!" + +Peter heard the subdued humor of the man, a low laugh that held +neither fear nor regret. + +"It was the Treaty Money first," he went on, leaning very +seriously toward Peter, as if he expected an argument. "You see, +Yellow Bird was in that particular tribe, Pied-Bot. I remember her +as she looked to me when a boy, with her two long, shining black +braids and her face that was almost as beautiful to me as my +mother's. My mother loved her, and she loved my mother, and I +loved Yellow Bird, just as a child loves a fairy. And always +Yellow Bird has been my fairy, Peter. I guess child worship is the +one thing that lasts through life, always remaining ideal, and +never forgotten. Years after my mother's death, when I was a young +man, and had been down to Montreal and Ottawa and Quebec, I went +back to Yellow Bird's tribe. And it was starving, Pied-Bot. +Starving to death!" + +Reminiscent tenderness and humor were gone from McKay's voice. It +was hard and flinty. + +"It was winter," he continued, "the dead of winter. And cold. So +cold that even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in. No +fish that autumn, no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were +starving. Pied-Bot, my heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird. +There didn't seem to be anything left of her but her eyes and her +hair--those two great, shining braids, and eyes that were big and +deep and dark, like beautiful pools. Boy, you never saw an Indian +--an Indian like Yellow Bird--cry. They don't cry very much. But +when that childhood fairy of mine first saw me she just stood +there, swaying in her weakness, and the tears filled those big, +wide-open eyes and ran down her thin cheeks. She had married Slim +Buck. Two of their three children had died within a fortnight. +Slim Buck was dying of hunger and exhaustion. And Yellow Bird's +heart was broken, and her soul was crying out for God to let her +lie down beside Slim Buck and die with him--when I happened along. + +"Peter--" Jolly Roger leaned over in the thickening dusk, and his +eyes gleamed. "Peter, if there's a God, an' He thinks I did wrong +then, let Him strike me dead right here! I'm willin'. I found out +what the trouble was. There was a new Indian Agent, a cur. And +near the tribe was a Free Trader, another cur. The two got +together. The Agent sent up the Treaty Money, and along with it-- +underground, mind you--he sent a lot of whiskey to the Free +Trader. Inside of five days the whiskey got the Treaty Money from +the Indians. Then came winter. Everything went bad, When I came-- +and found out what had happened--eighteen out of sixty had died, +and inside of another two weeks half the others would follow. +Pied-Bot, away back--somewhere--there must have been a pirate +before me--mebby a great-grandfather of mine. I set out, I came +back in three days, and I had a sledge-load of grub, and warm +things to wear--plenty of them. My God, how those starving things +did eat! I went again, and returned in another week, with a still +bigger sledge-load. And Yellow Bird was getting beautiful again, +and Slim Buck was on his feet, growing strong, and there was +happiness--and I think God A'mighty was glad. I kept it up for two +months. Then the back-bone of the winter broke. Game came into the +country I left them well supplied--and skipped. That was what made +me an outlaw, Pied-Bot. That!" + +He chuckled, and Peter heard the rubbing of his hands in the +gloom. + +"Want to know why?" he asked. "Well, you see, I went over to the +Free Trader's, and this God the law don't take into account went +with me, and we found the skunk alone. First I licked him until he +was almost dead. Then, sticking a knife into him about half an +inch, I made him write a note saying he was called south suddenly, +and authorizing me to take charge in his absence. Then I chained +him in a dugout in a place where nobody would find him. And I took +charge. Pied-Bot, I sure did! Everybody was on the trap-lines, and +I wasn't bothered much by callers. And I fed and clothed my tribe +for eight straight weeks, fed 'em until they grew fat, Boy--and +Yellow Bird's eyes were bright as stars again. Then I brought +Roach--that was his name--back to his empty post, and I lectured +him, an' gave him another licking--and left." + +McKay rose to his feet. The first stars were peeping out of the +velvety darkness of the sky, and Peter heard his master draw in a +deep breath--the breath of a man whose lungs rejoice in the glory +of life. + +After a moment he said, + +"And the Royal Mounted have been after me ever since that winter, +Peter. And the harder they've chased me the more I've given them +reason to chase me. I half killed Beaudin, the Government mail- +runner, because he insulted another man's wife when that man--my +friend--was away. Then Beaudin, seeing his chance, robbed the mail +himself, and the crime was laid to me. Well, I got even, and stuck +up a mail-sledge myself--but I guess there was a good reason for +it. I've done a lot of things since then, but I've done it all +with my naked fists, and I've never put a bullet or a knife into a +man except Roach the Free Trader. And the funniest thing of the +whole business, Pied-Bot, is this--I didn't kill Jed Hawkins. Some +day mebby I'll tell you about what happened on the trail, the +thing which you and Nada didn't see. But now--" + +For a moment he stood very still, and Peter sensed the sudden +thrill that was going through the man as he stood there in +darkness. And then, suddenly, Jolly Roger bent over him. + +"Peter, there's three women we'll love as long as we live," he +whispered. "There's my mother, and she is dead. There's Nada back +there, and we'll never see her again--" His voice choked for an +instant. "And then--there's Yellow Bird--" he added. "It's five +years since I fed the tribe. Mebby they've had more kids! Boy, +let's go and see!" + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +North and west, in the direction of Yellow Bird's people, went +Jolly Roger and Peter after that night. They traveled slowly and +cautiously, and with each day Peter came to understand more +clearly there was some reason why they must be constantly on their +guard. His master, he noticed, was thrillingly attentive whenever +a sound came to their ears--perhaps the cracking of a twig, a +mysterious movement of brush, or the tread of a cloven hoof. And +instinctively he came to know they were evading Man. He remembered +vividly their escape from Cassidy and their quiet hiding for many +days in the mass of sun-baked rocks which Jolly Roger had called +the Stew-Kettle. The same vigilance seemed to be a part of his +master's movements now. He did not laugh, or sing, or whistle, or +talk loudly. He built fires so small that at first Peter was +absorbed in an almost scientific analysis of them; and instead of +shooting game which could have been easily secured he set little +snares in the evening, and caught fish in the streams. At night +they always slept half a mile or more from the place where they +had built their tiny supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep +Peter was ready to rouse himself at the slightest sound of +movement near them. Scarcely a night passed that his low growl of +warning did not bring Jolly Roger out of his slumber, a hand on +his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open. + +Whether he would have used the gun had the red-coated police +suddenly appeared, McKay had not quite assured himself. Day after +day the same old fight went on within him. He analyzed his +situation from every point of view, and always--no matter how he +went about it--eventually found himself face to face with the same +definite fact. If the law succeeded in catching Him it would not +trouble itself to punish him for stealing back the Treaty Money, +or for holding up Government mails, or for any of his other +misdemeanors. It would hang him for the murder of Jed Hawkins. And +the minions of the law would laugh at the truth, even if he told +it--which he never would. More than once his imaginative genius +had drawn up a picture of that impossible happening. For it was a +truth so inconceivable that he found the absurdity of it a grimly +humorous thing. Even Nada believed he had killed her scoundrelly +foster-father. Yet it was she--herself--who had killed him! And it +was Nada whom the law would hang, if the truth was known--and +believed. + +Frequently he went back over the scenes of that tragic night at +Cragg's Ridge when all the happiness in the world seemed to be +offering itself to him--the night when Nada was to go with him to +the Missioner's, to become his wife, And then--the dark trail-- +the disheveled girl staggering to him through the starlight, and +her sobbing story of how Jed Hawkins had tried to drag her through +the forest to Mooney's cabin, and how--at last--she had saved +herself by striking him down with a stick which she had caught up +out of the darkness. Would the police believe HIM--an outlaw--if +he told the rest of the story?--how he had gone back to give Jed +Hawkins the beating of his life, and had found him dead in the +trail, where Nada had struck him down? Would they believe him if, +in a moment of cowardice, he told them that to protect the girl he +loved he had fastened the responsibility of the crime upon +himself? No, they would not. He had made the evidence too +complete. The world would call him a lying yellow-back if he +betrayed what had actually happened on the trail between Cragg's +Ridge and Mooney's cabin. + +And this, after all, was the one remaining bit of happiness in +Jolly Roger's heart, the knowledge that he had made the evidence +utterly complete, and that Nada would never know, and the world +would never know--the truth. His love for the blue-eyed girl-woman +who had given her heart and her soul into his keeping, even when +she knew he was an outlaw, was an undying thing, like his love for +the mother of years ago. "It will be easy to die for her," he told +Peter, and this, in the end, was what he knew he was going to do. +Thought of the inevitable did not make him afraid. He was +determined to keep his freedom and his life as long as he could, +but he was fatalistic enough, and sufficiently acquainted with the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police, to know what the ultimate of the +thing would be. And yet, with tragedy behind him, and a still +grimmer tragedy ahead, the soul of Jolly Roger was not dead or in +utter darkness. In it, waking and sleeping, he enshrined the girl +who had been willing to give up all other things in the world for +him, who had pleaded with him in the last hour of storm down on +the edge of civilization that she be given the privilege of +accompanying him wherever his fate might lead. That he was an +outlaw had not destroyed her faith in him. That he had killed a +man--a man unfit to live--had only drawn her arms more closely +about him, and had made her more completely a part of him. And a +thousand times the maddening thought possessed Jolly Roger--was he +wrong, and not right, in refusing to accept the love and +companionship which she had begged him to accept, in spite of all +that had happened and all that might happen? + +Day by day he slowly won for himself, and at last, as they +traveled in the direction of Yellow Bird's country, he crushed the +final doubt that oppressed him, and knew that he was right. In his +selfishness he had not shackled her to an outlaw. He had left her +free. Life and hope and other happiness were ahead of her. He had +not destroyed her, and this thought would strengthen him and leave +something of gladness in his heart, even in that gray dawn when +the law would compel him to make his final sacrifice. + +It is a strange peace which follows grief, a secret happiness no +other soul but one can understand. Out of it excitement and +passion have been burned, and it is then the Great God of things +comes more closely into the possession of his own. And now, as +they went westward and north toward the Wollaston Lake country, +this peace possessed Jolly Roger. It mellowed his world. It was +half an ache, half a steady and undying pain, but it drew Life +nearer to him than he had ever known it before. His love for the +sun and the sky, for the trees and flowers and all growing things +of the earth was more worship of the divine than a love for +physical things, and each day he felt it drawing more closely +about him in its comradeship, whispering to him of its might, and +of its power to care for him in the darkest hours of stress that +might come. + +He did not travel fast after he had reached the decision to go to +Yellow Bird's people. And he tried to imagine, a great deal of the +time, that Nada was with him. He succeeded in a way that +bewildered Peter, for quite frequently the man talked to someone +who was not there. + +The slowness and caution with which they traveled developed +Peter's mental faculties with marvelous swiftness. His master, +free of egoism and prejudice, had placed him on a plane of +intimate equality, and Peter struggled each day to live up a +little more to the responsibility of this intimacy and confidence. +Instinct, together with human training, taught him woodcraft until +in many ways he was more clever than his master. And along with +this Jolly Roger slowly but surely impressed upon him the +difference between wanton slaughter and necessary killing. + +"Everything that's got a breath of life must kill--up to a certain +point," Jolly Roger explained to him, repeating the lesson over +and over. "And that isn't wrong, Peter. The sin is in killing when +you don't have to. See that tree over there, with a vine as big as +my wrist winding around it, like a snake? Well, that vine is +choking the life out of the tree, and in time the tree will die. +But the vine is doing just what God A'mighty meant it to do. It +needs a tree to live on. But I'm going to cut the vine, because I +think more of the tree than I do the vine. That's MY privilege-- +following my conscience. And we're eating young partridges +tonight, because we had to have something to keep us alive. It's +the necessity of the thing that counts, Peter. Think you can +understand that?" + +It was pretty hard for Peter at first, but he was observant, and +his mind worked quickly. The crime of destroying birdlings in +their nest, or on the ground, was impressed upon him. He began to +understand there was a certain humiliating shame attached to an +attack upon a creature weaker than himself, unless there was a +reason for it. He looked chiefly to his master for decisions in +the matter. Snowshoe rabbits, young and half grown, were very tame +in this month of August, and ordinarily he would have destroyed +many of them in a day's travel. But unless Jolly Roger gave him a +signal, or he was hungry, he would pass a snowshoe unconcernedly. +This phase of Peter's development interested Jolly Roger greatly. +The outlaw's philosophy had not been punctured by the egotistical +"I am the only reasoning being" arguments of narrow-gauged nature +scientists. He believed that Peter possessed not only a brain and +super-instinct, but also a very positive reasoning power which he +was helping to develop. And the process was one that fascinated +him. When he was not sleeping, or traveling, or teaching Peter he +was usually reading the wonderful little red volumes of history +which he had purloined from the mail sledge up near the Barren +Lands. He knew their contents nearly by heart. His favorites were +the life-stories of Napoleon, Margaret of Anjou, and Peter the +Great, and always when he compared his own troubles with the +difficulties and tragedies over which these people had triumphed +he felt a new courage and inspiration, and faced the world with +better cheer. If Nature was his God and Bible, and Nada his Angel, +these finger-worn little books written by a man half a century +dead were voices out of the past urging him on to his best. Their +pages were filled with the vivid lessons of sacrifice, of courage +and achievement, of loyalty, honor and dishonor--and of the +crashing tragedy which comes always with the last supreme egoism +and arrogance of man. He marked the dividing lines, and applied +them to himself. And he told Peter of his conclusions. He felt a +consuming tenderness for the glorious Margaret of Anjou, and his +heart thrilled one day when a voice seemed to whisper to him out +of the printed page that Nada was another Margaret--only more +wonderful because she was not a princess and a queen. + +"The only difference," he explained to Peter, "is that Margaret +sacrificed and fought and died for a king, and our Nada is willing +to do all that for a poor beggar of an outlaw. Which makes +Margaret a second-rater compared with Nada," he added. "For +Margaret wanted a kingdom along with her husband, and Nada would +take--just you and me. And that's where we're pulling some Peter +the Great stuff," he tried to laugh. "We won't let her do it!" + +And so they went on, day after day, toward the Wollaston +waterways--the country of Yellow Bird and her people. + +It was early September when they crossed the Geikie and struck up +the western shore of Wollaston Lake. The first golden tints were +ripening in the canoe-birch leaves, and the tremulous whisper of +autumn was in the rustle of the aspen trees. The poplars were +yellowing, the ash were blood red with fruit, and in cool, dank +thickets wild currants were glossy black and lusciously ripe. It +was the season which Jolly Roger loved most of all, and it was the +beginning of Peter's first September. The days were still hot, but +at night there was a bracing something in the air that stirred the +blood, and Peter found a sharp, new note in the voices of the +wild. The wolf howled again in the middle of the night. The loon +forgot his love-sickness, and screamed raucous defiance at the +moon. The big snowshoes were no longer tame, but wary and alert, +and the owls seemed to slink deeper into darkness and watch with +more cunning. And Jolly Roger knew the human masters of the +wilderness were returning from the Posts to their cabins and trap- +lines, and he advanced with still greater caution. And as he went, +watching for smoke and listening for sound, he began to reflect +upon the many changes which five years might have produced among +Yellow Bird's people. Possibly other misfortunes had come, other +winters of hunger and pestilence, scattering and destroying the +tribe. It might even be that Yellow Bird was dead. + +For three days he followed slowly the ragged shore of Wollaston +Lake, and foreboding of evil was oppressing him when he came upon +the fish-racks of the Indians. They had been abandoned for many +days, for black bear tracks fairly inundated the place, and Peter +saw two of the bears--fat and unafraid--nosing along the shore +where the fish offal had been thrown. + +It was the next day, in the hour before sunset, that Jolly Roger +and Peter came out on the edge of a shelving beach where Indian +children were playing in the white sand. Among these children, +playing and laughing with them, was a woman. She was tall and +slim, with a skirt of soft buckskin that came only a little below +her knees, and two shining black braids which tossed like velvety +ropes when she ran. And she was running when they first saw her-- +running away from them, pursued by the children; and then she +twisted suddenly, and came toward them, until with a startled cry +she stopped almost within the reach of Jolly Roger's hands. Peter +was watching. He saw the half frightened look in her face, then +the slow widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake of her +breath. And in that moment Jolly Roger cried out a name. + +"Yellow Bird!" + +He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years +had touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out +her hands to him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and +Peter wondered what it was all about as he cautiously eyed the +half dozen brown-faced little Indian children who had now gathered +quietly about them. In another moment there was an interruption. A +girl came through the fringe of willows behind them. It was as if +another Yellow Bird had come to puzzle Peter--the same slim, +graceful little body, the same shining eyes, and yet she was half +a dozen years younger than Nada. For the first time Peter was +looking at Sun Cloud, the daughter of Yellow Bird. And in that +moment he loved her, just as something gave him confidence and +faith in the starry-eyed woman whose hands were in his master's. +Then Yellow Bird called, and the girl went to her mother, and +Jolly Roger hugged her in his arms and kissed her on the scarlet +mouth she turned up to him. Then they hurried along the shore +toward the fishing camp, the children racing ahead to tell the +news, led by Sun Cloud--with Peter running at her heels. + +Never had Peter heard anything from a man's throat like the two +yells that came from Slim Buck, Yellow Bird's husband and chief of +the tribe, after he had greeted Jolly Roger McKay. It was a note +harking back to the old war trails of the Crees, and what followed +it that night was most exciting to Peter. Big fires were built of +white driftwood, and there was singing and dancing, and a great +deal of laughter and eating, and the interminable howling of half +a hundred Siwash dogs. Peter did not like the dogs, but he did no +fighting because his love for Sun Cloud kept him close to the +touch of her little brown hand. + +That night, in the glow of the big fire outside of Slim Buck's +tepee, Jolly Roger's heart thrilled with a pleasure which it had +not known for a long time. He loved to look at Yellow Bird. Five +years had not changed her. Her eyes were starry bright. Her teeth +were like milk. The color still came and went in her brown cheeks, +even as it did in Sun Cloud's. All of which, in this heart of a +wilderness, meant that she had been happy and prosperous. And he +also loved to look at Sun Cloud, who possessed all of that rare +wildflower beauty sometimes given to the northern Crees. And it +did him good to look at Slim Buck. He was a splendid mate, and a +royal father, and Jolly Roger found himself strangely happy in +their happiness. In the eyes of men and women and little children +he saw that happiness all about him. For three winters there had +been splendid trapping, Slim Buck told him, and this season they +had caught and dried enough fish to carry them through the +following winter, even if black days should come. His people were +rich. They had many warm blankets, and good clothes, and the best +of tepees and guns and sledges, and several treasures besides. Two +of these Yellow Bird and her husband disclosed to Jolly Roger this +first night. One of them was a sewing machine, and the other--a +phonograph! And Jolly Roger listened to "Mother Machree" and "The +Rosary" that night as he sat by Wollaston Lake with six hundred +miles of wilderness between him and Cragg's Ridge. + +Later, when the camp slept, Yellow Bird and Slim Buck and Jolly +Roger still sat beside the red embers of their fire, and Jolly +Roger told of what had happened down at the edge of civilization. +It was what his heart needed, and he left out none of the details. +Slim Buck was listening, but Jolly Roger knew he was talking +straight at Yellow Bird, and that her warm heart was full of +understanding. Softly, in that low Cree voice which is the +sweetest of all voices, she asked him many questions about Nada, +and gently her slim fingers caressed the tress of Nada's hair +which he let her take in her hands. And after a long time, she +said. + +"I have given her a name. She is Oo-Mee, the Pigeon." + +Slim Buck started at the strange note in her voice. + +"The Pigeon," he repeated, + +"Yes, Oo-Mee, the Pigeon," Yellow Bird nodded. She was not looking +at them. In the firelight her eyes were glowing pools. Her body +had grown a little tense. Without asking Jolly Roger's permission +she placed the tress of Nada's hair in her bosom. "Oo-Mee, the +Pigeon," she said again, looking far away. "That is her name, +because the Pigeon flies fast and straight and true. Over forests +and lakes and worlds the Pigeon flies. It is tireless. It is +swift. It always--flies home." + +Slim Buck rose quietly to his feet. + +"Come," he whispered, looking at Jolly Roger, + +Yellow Bird did not look at them or speak to them, and Slim Buck-- +with his hand on Jolly Roger's arm--pulled him gently away. In his +eyes was a little something of fear, and yet along with it a +sublime faith. + +"Her spirit will be with Oo-Mee, the Pigeon, tonight," he said in +a voice struck with awe. "It will go to this place which you have +described, and it will live in the body of the girl, and through +Yellow Bird it will tell you tomorrow what has happened, and what +is going to happen." + +In the edge of the shore-willows Jolly Roger stood for a time +watching Yellow Bird as she sat under the stars, motionless as a +figure graven out of stone. He felt a curious tingling at his +heart, something stirring uneasily in his breast, and he stood +alone even after Slim Buck had stretched himself out in the soft +sand to sleep. He was not superstitious. Yet it was equally a part +of his philosophy and his creed to believe in the overwhelming +power of the mind. "If you have faith enough, and think hard +enough, you can think anything until it comes true," he had told +himself more than once. And he knew Yellow Bird possessed that +illimitable faith, and that behind her divination lay generations +and centuries of an unbreakable certainty in the power of mind +over matter. He realized his own limitations, but a mysterious +voice in the still night seemed whispering to him that in the +crude wisdom of Yellow Bird's brain lay the secret to strange +achievement, and that on this night her mind might perform for him +what he, in his greater wisdom, would call a miracle. He had seen +things like that happen. And he sat down in the sand, sleepless, +and with Peter at his feet waited for Yellow Bird to stir. + +He could see the dull shimmer of starlight in her hair, but the +rest of her was a shadow that gave no sign of life. The camp was +asleep. Even the dogs were buried in their wallows of sand, and +the last red spark of the fires had died out. The hour passed, and +another hour followed, and the lids of Jolly Roger's eyes grew +heavier as the fading stars seemed to be sinking deeper into +infinity. At last he slept, with his back leaning against a sand- +dune the children had made. He dreamed, and was flying through the +air with Yellow Bird. She was traveling swift and straight, like +an arrow, and he had difficulty in keeping up with her, and at +last he cried out for her to wait--that he could go no farther. +The cry roused him. He opened his eyes, and found cool, gray dawn +in the sky. Peter, alert, was muzzling his hand. Slim Buck lay in +the sand, still asleep. There was no stir in the camp. And then, +with a sudden catch in his breath, he looked toward Yellow Bird's +tepee. + +Yellow Bird still sat in the sand. Through the hours of fading +starlight and coming dawn she had not moved. Slowly McKay rose to +his feet. When he came to her, making no sound, she looked up. The +shimmer of glistening dew was in her hair. Her long lashes were +wet with it. Her face was very pale, and her eyes so large and +dark that for a moment they startled him. She was tired. +Exhaustion was in her slim, limp body. + +A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders swayed a little. + +"Sit down, Neekewa," she whispered, drawing the ropes of her hair +about her as if she were cold. + +Then she drew a slim hand over her eyes, and shivered. + +"It is well, Neekewa," she spoke softly. "I have gone through the +clouds to where lives Oo-Mee, the Pigeon. I found her crying in a +trail. I whispered to her and happiness came, and that happiness +is going to live--for Neekewa and The Pigeon. It cannot die. It +cannot be killed. The Red Coated men of the Great White Father +will never destroy it. You will live. She will live. You will meet +again--in happiness. And happiness will follow ever after. That +much I learned, Neekewa. In happiness--you will meet again." + +"Where? When?" whispered Jolly Roger, his heart beating with +sudden swiftness. + +Again Yellow Bird passed her hand over her eyes, and as she held +it there for a moment she bowed her head until Jolly Roger could +see only her dew-wet hair and she said, + +"In the Country Beyond, Neekewa." + +Her eyes were looking at him again, big, dark and filled with +mystery. + +"And where is this country, Yellow Bird?" he asked, a strange +chill driving the warmth out of his heart. "You mean--up there?" +And he pointed to the gray sky above them. + +"No, it is happiness to come in life, not in death," said Yellow +Bird slowly. "It is not beyond the stars. It is--" + +He waited, leaning toward her. + +"In the Country Beyond," she repeated with a tired little droop of +her head. "And where that is I do not know, Neekewa. I could not +pass beyond the great white cloud that shut me out. But it is-- +somewhere, I will find it. And then I will tell you--and The +Pigeon." + +She stood up, and swayed in the gray light, like one worn out by +hard travel. Then she passed into the tepee, and Jolly Roger heard +her fall on her blanket-bed. + +And still stranger whisperings filled his heart as he faced the +east, where the first red blush of day drove back the star-mists +of dawn. He heard a step in the soft sand, and Slim Buck stood +beside him. And he asked. + +"Did you ever hear of the Country Beyond?" Slim Buck shook his +head, and both looked in silence toward the rising sun. + +Peter was glad when the camp roused itself out of sleep with +waking voices, and laughter, and the building of fires. He waited +eagerly for Sun Cloud. At last she came out of Yellow Bird's +tepee, rubbing her eyes in the face of the glow in the east, and +then her white teeth flashed a smile of welcome at him. Together +they ran down to the edge of the lake, and Peter wagged his tail +while Sun Cloud went out knee-deep and scrubbed her pretty face +with handfuls of the cool water. It was a happy day for him. He +was different from the Indian dogs, and Sun Cloud and her +playmates made much of him. But never, even in their most exciting +play, did he entirely lose track of his master. + +Jolly Roger, to an extent, forgot Peter. He tried to deaden within +him the impulses which Yellow Bird's conjuring had roused. He +tried to see in them a menace and a danger, and he repeated to +himself the folly of placing credence in Yellow Bird's "medicine." +But his efforts were futile, and he was honest enough to admit it. +The uneasiness was in his breast. A new hope was rising up. And +with that hope were fear and suspense, for deep in him was growing +stronger the conviction that what Yellow Bird would tell him would +be true. He noted the calm and dignified stiffness with which Slim +Buck greeted the day. The young chief passed quietly among his +people. A word traveled in whispers, voices and footsteps were +muffled and before the sun was an hour high there was no tepee +standing but one on that white strip of beach. And the one tepee +was Yellow Bird's, + +Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird +come out into the day. She saw the food placed at her tepee door. +She saw the empty places where the homes of her people had stood, +and in the wet sand of the beach the marks of their missing +canoes. Then she turned her pale face and tired eyes to the sun, +and unbraided her hair so that it streamed glistening all about +her and covered the white sand when she sat down again in front of +the smoke-darkened canvas that had become her conjurer's house. + +Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp. But +Slim Buck and Jolly Roger remained in the cover of a wooded +headland only half a mile from Yellow Bird. They saw her when she +came out. They watched for an hour after she sat down in the sand. +And then Slim Buck grunted, and with a gesture of his hands said +they would go. Jolly Roger protested. It was not safe for Yellow +Bird to remain entirely beyond their protection. There were bears +prowling about. And human beasts occasionally found their way +through the wilderness. But Slim Buck's face was like a bronze +carving in its faith and pride. + +"Yellow Bird only goes with the good spirits," he assured Jolly +Roger. "She does not do witchcraft with the bad. And no harm can +come while the good spirits are with her. It is thus she has +brought us happiness and prosperity since the days of the famine, +Neekewa!" + +He spoke these words in Cree, and McKay answered him in Cree as +they turned in the direction of the camp. Half way, Sun Cloud came +to meet them, with Peter at her side. She put a brown little hand +in Jolly Roger's. It was quite new and pleasant to be kissed as +Jolly Roger had kissed her, and she held up her mouth to him +again. Then she ran ahead, with Peter yipping foolishly and +happily at her moccasined heels. + +And Jolly Roger said, + +"I wish I was your brother, Slim Buck, and Nada was Yellow Bird's +sister--and that I had many like her," and his eyes followed Sun +Cloud with hungry yearning. + +And as he said these words, Yellow Bird sat with bowed head and +closed eyes, with the soft tress of Nada's hair in her hands. It +was the physical union between them, and all that day, and the +night that followed, Yellow Bird held it in her hand or against +her breast as she struggled to send out the soul that was in her +on its mission to Oo-Mee the Pigeon. In darkness she buried the +food that was left her, and stamped on it with her feet. The +sacrifice of her body had begun, and for two days thereafter Jolly +Roger and Slim Buck saw no movement of life about the lone tepee +in the sand. + +But the third morning they saw the smoke of a little greenwood +fire rising straight up from in front of it. + +Slim Buck drew in a deep breath. It was the signal fire. + +"She knows," he said, pointing for Jolly Roger to go. "She is +calling you!" + +The tenseness was gone from the bronze muscles of his face. He was +lonely without Yellow Bird, and the signal fire meant she would be +with him again soon. Jolly Roger walked swiftly over the white +beach. Again he tried to tell himself what folly it all was, and +that he was answering the signal-fire only to humor Yellow Bird +and Slim Buck. But words, even spoken half aloud, did not quiet +the eager beating of his heart. + +Not until he was very near did Yellow Bird come out of the tepee. +And it was then Jolly Roger stopped short, a gasp on his lips. She +was changed. Her radiant hair was still down, polished smooth; but +her face was whiter than he had ever seen it, and drawn and +pinched almost as in the days of the famine. For two days and two +nights she had taken no food, and for two days and two nights she +had not slept. But there was triumph in her big, wide-open eyes, +and Jolly Roger felt something strange rising up in his breast. + +Yellow Bird held out her hands toward him. + +"We have been together, The Pigeon and I," she said. "We have +slept in each other's arms, and the warmth of her head has lain +against my breast. I have learned the secrets, Neekewa--all but +one. The spirits will not tell me where lies the Country Beyond. +But it is not up there--beyond the stars. It is not in death, but +in life you will find it. That they have told me. And you must not +go back to where The Pigeon lives, for you will find black +desolation there--but always you must keep on and on, seeking for +the Country Beyond. You will find it. And there also you will find +The Pigeon--and happiness. You cannot fail, Neekewa, yet my heart +stings me that I cannot tell you where that strange country is. +But when I came to it gold and silver clouds shut it in, and I +could see nothing, and yet out of it came the singing of birds and +the promise of sweet voices that it shall be found--if you seek +faithfully, Neekewa. I am glad." + +Each word that she spoke in her soft and tremulous Cree was a new +message of hope in the empty heart of Jolly Roger McKay. The world +might laugh. Men might tap their heads and smile. His own voice +might argue and taunt. But deep in his heart he believed. + +Something of the radiance of the new day came into his face, even +as it was returning into Yellow Bird's. He looked about him--east, +west, north and south--upon the sunlit glory of water and earth, +and suddenly he reached out his arms. + +"I'll find it, Yellow Bird," he cried. "I'll find this place you +call the Country Beyond! And when I do--" + +He turned and took one of Yellow Bird's slim hands in both his +own. + +"And when I do, we'll come back to you, Yellow Bird," he said. + +And like a cavalier of old he touched his lips gently to the palm +of Yellow Bird's little brown hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird +and Slim Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come +back to his own people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay +warm in Yellow Bird's breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. +The wrinkled faces of the old softened when he came near and spoke +to them; little children followed him, and at dusk and dawn Sun +Cloud held up her mouth to be kissed. For the first time in years +McKay felt as if he had found home. The northland Indian Summer +held the world in its drowsy arms, and the sun-filled days and the +starry nights seemed overflowing with the promise of all time. +Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and each day Slim +Buck urged him to remain with them always. + +But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she +did not urge. Each day and night she was watching--and waiting. + +And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass. + +It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in +it. This restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living +body, still for a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between +the clouds in the sky and the deeper shadowed earth below. A night +of uneasiness, of unseen forces chained and stifled, of impending +doubt and oppressive lifelessness. + +There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped +as if in flight. + +There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and +sighed. + +In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the +wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious +stillness of death enshrouding it. + +At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was +like oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke- +blackened and seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches +sentineling the shore of the big lake. Behind them, beyond the +willows, were the Indian dogs. From them came an occasional whine, +a deep sigh, the snapping of a jaw, and in the gloom their bodies +moved restlessly. In the tepees was the spell of this same unrest. +Sleep was never quite sure of itself. Men, women and little +children twisted and rolled, or lay awake, and weird and distorted +shapes and fancies came in dreams. + +In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at +the gray blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun +Cloud, tossing on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids +so that it lay across her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim +fingers played with its silken strands as she looked straight up +into nothingness. Wide awake, she was thinking--thinking as Slim +Buck--would never be able to think, back to the days when a white +woman had been her goddess, and when a little white boy--the +woman's son--had called Yellow Bird "my fairy." + +In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's +red lips parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for +they were pleasing days to think about. But after that the years +sped swiftly in her mind until the day when the little boy--a man +grown--came to save her tribe, and her own life, and the life of +Sun Cloud, and of Slim Buck her husband. Since then prosperity and +happiness had been her lot. The spirits had been good. They had +not let her grow old, but had kept her still beautiful. And Sun +Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, and Slim Buck was more +than ever her god among men, and her people were happy. And all +this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the gloom of the +sky outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, "the little boy grown +up"--Jolly Roger McKay. + +As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits +were whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little +faster and her eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They +seemed to be accusing her. They told her it was because of her +that Roger McKay had come in that winter of starvation and death, +and had robbed and almost killed, that she and Slim Buck and +little Sun Cloud might live. That was the beginning, and the +thrill of it had got into the blood of Neekewa, her "little white +brother grown up." And now he was out there, alone with his dog in +the night--and the red-coated avengers of the law were hunting +him. They wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the killing +of a man. + +Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick +braid of Sun Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and +had let the soul go out of her body that she might learn the +future for Neekewa, her white brother. And they had told her that +Roger McKay had done right to think of killing. + +Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more +than he had already suffered--and that in the Country Beyond he +would find Nada the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow +Bird did not disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits +would not lie. But the unrest of the night was eating at her +heart. She tried to lift herself to the whisperings above the +tepee top. But they were unintelligible, like many voices +mingling, and with them came a dull fear into her soul. + +She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it +back, and placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her +feet so quietly that even in their restlessness they did not fully +awake. Through the tepee door she went, and stood up straight in +the night, as if now she might hear more clearly, and understand. + +For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in +the air, and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But +there was no threat of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and +softly, with starlight breaking through their rifts, and there was +no moan of thunder or wail of wind far away. Her heart, for a +little, seemed to stop its beating, and her hands clasped tightly +at her breast. She began to understand, and a strange thrill crept +into her. The spirits had put a great burden upon the night so +that it might drive sleep from her eyes. They were warning her. +They were telling her of danger, approaching swiftly, almost +impending. And it was peril for the white man who was sleeping +somewhere near. + +Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet +making no sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston. + +And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars +shone through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest +in the gloom. + +Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a +flat mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. +Peter was wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. +His lank and bony body was tense and alert. He did not whine or +snap his jaws, though he heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing +so. The comradeship of a fugitive, ever on the watch for his +fellow men, had made him silent and velvet-footed, and had +sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. He, too, felt the +impelling force of an approaching menace in this night of +stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless +movements of his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to +the name which he had spoken three times in the last five minutes +of his sleep. + +It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the +old way, as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and +his hands struck the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly +he sat up. The sky had cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, +and in that starlight Jolly Roger saw a figure standing near him +in the sand. At first he thought it was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood +with his head raised to her. Then he saw it was Yellow Bird, with +her beautiful eyes looking at him steadily and strangely as he +awakened. + +He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. +It was cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, +and suddenly her eyes swept from him out into the night. + +"Listen, Neekewa!" + +Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the +beating of her heart. + +"Twice I have heard it," she whispered then. "Neekewa, you must +go!" + +"Heard what?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Something--I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. +And I saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings +of it all about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and +cautiously. It is very near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound +out on the water?" + +"I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird." + +"And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. +"That sound--as if wood strikes on wood!" + +"The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird." + +She drew her hand away. + +"Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree. "The spirits +have made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun +Cloud twitches and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were +crying out the name of Nada--Oo-Mee the Pigeon--when I came to +you. I know. It is danger. It is very near. And it is danger for +you." + +"And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace +were coming to me, Yellow Bird," reminded Jolly Roger. "The +spirits, you said, promised the law should never get me, and I +would find Nada again in that strange place you called the Country +Beyond. Have the spirits changed their message, because the night +is heavy?" + +Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness. + +"No, they have not changed," she whispered. "They have spoken the +truth. They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is +impossible. They have tried to tell me where lies this place they +call the Country Beyond--where you will again find Oo-Mee the +Pigeon. But a cloud always comes between. And they are trying to +tell me what the danger is off there--in the darkness." Suddenly +she caught his arm. "Nee-kewa, DID YOU HEAR?" + +"A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird." + +He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw +Peter's muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the +lake. + +"What is it, Pied-Bot?" he asked. + +Peter whimpered again. + +Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm. + +"Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for +me--the red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark +hours of a night like this." + +"They are coming," she replied. "I cannot hear or see, but they +are coming!" + +Her fingers tightened. + +"And they are near," she cried softly. + +"You are nervous, Yellow Bird," he said, thinking of the two days +and three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor +taken food, that she might more successfully commune with the +spirits. "There is no danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. +It has frightened you." + +"It has warned me," she persisted, standing as motionless as a +statue at his side. "Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have +not forgotten that winter when you came, and my people were dying +of famine and sickness--when I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud +close her eyes even in sleep, fearing she would never open them +again. They have not forgotten how all that winter you robbed the +white people over on the Des Chenes, that we might live. If they +remember those things, and lie, I would not be afraid to curse +them. But they do not lie." + +Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange +something was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow +Bird. She did not look at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as +the mellow notes of a bird, she was saying: + +"You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you +again for a long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you +must believe. Somewhere there is this place called the Country +Beyond. The spirits have said so. And it is there you will find +your Oo-Mee the Pigeon--and happiness. But if you go back to the +place where you left The Pigeon when you fled from the red-coated +men of the law, you will find only blackness and desolation. +Believe, and you shall be guided. If you disbelieve--" + +She stopped. + +"You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was +it the croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the +still water. IT WAS A PADDLE!" + +In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened. + +"Yes, a paddle," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. +"Probably it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow +Bird." + +She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out +to him. Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the +stars, and for an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips. + +"Goodby, Neekewa," she whispered. + +And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. +Swiftly she ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon +she came out again with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not +move, but watched as Yellow Bird and her husband went down to the +edge of the lake, and stood there, waiting for the strange canoe +to pass--or come in. It was approaching. Slowly it came up, an +indistinct shadow at first, but growing clearer, until at last he +could see the silhouette of it against the star-silvered water +beyond. There were two people in it. Before the canoe reached the +shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the water and hailed it. + +A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped +like a shot beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he +snarled. His master's hand warned him, and together they slipped +back into the shadows, and from under a piece of canvas Jolly +Roger dragged forth his pack, and quietly strapped it over his +shoulders while he waited and listened. + +And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled +softly. + +"It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can +we?" + +A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter--looking up-- +thought for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger +made a megaphone of his hands, and called very clearly out into +the night. + +"Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?" + +Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific +danger. There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no +sound anywhere. For a few moments a death-like stillness followed +Jolly Roger's words. + +Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the +decisive clearness of a bullet coming from a gun. + +"Yes, this is Cassidy--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?" + +"Yes, it's me," replied Jolly Roger. "Does the wager still hold, +Cassidy?" + +"It holds." + +There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again. + +"Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!" + +With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger +and Peter had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old +canvas. Cassidy's Indian came up and stood behind him, and for +many minutes they listened for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck +joined them, and last came Yellow Bird, her dark eyes glowing like +pools of fire in their excitement. Cassidy looked at her, +marveling at her beauty, and suspicious of something that was in +her face. He went back to the beach. There he caught himself +short, astonishment bringing a sharp exclamation from his lips. + +His canoe and outfit were gone! + +Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter +as Yellow Bird ran to her tepee. + +And from the mist of water--far out--came a voice, the voice of +Jolly Roger McKay. + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + +With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog. + +In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy +head close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up +thankfully to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the +spirits had whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and +still farther away, her straining ears heard again the cry, + +"Goodby, Cassidy!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In Cassidy's canoe, driving himself with steady strokes deeper +into the mystery of the starlit waters of Wollaston, Jolly Roger +felt the night suddenly filled with an exhilarating tonic. Its +deadness was gone. Its weight had lifted. A ripple broke the star +gleams where an increasing breeze touched the surface of the lake. +And the thrill of adventure stirred in his blood. He laughed as he +put his skill and strength in the sweep of his paddle, and for a +time the thought that he was an outlaw, and in losing Nada had +lost everything in life worth righting for, was not so oppressive. +It was the old, joyous laugh, stirred by his sense of humor, and +the trick he had played on Cassidy. He could imagine Cassidy back +on the shore, his temper redder than his hair as he cursed and +tore up the sand in his search for another canoe. + +"We're inseparable," Jolly Roger explained to Peter. "Wherever I +go, Cassidy is sure to follow. You see, it's this way. A long time +ago someone gave Cassidy what they call an assignment, and in that +assignment it says 'go get Jolly Roger McKay, dead or alive'--or +something to that effect. And Cassidy has been on the job ever +since. But he can't quite catch up with me, Pied-Bot. I'm always a +little ahead." + +And yet, even as he laughed, there was in Jolly Roger's heart a +yearning to which he had never given voice. Half a dozen times he +might have killed Cassidy, and an equal number of times Cassidy +might have killed him. But neither had taken advantage of the +opportunity to destroy. They had played the long and thrilling +game like men, and because of the fairness and sportsmanship of +the man who hunted him Jolly Roger thought of Cassidy as he might +have thought of a brother, and more than once he yearned to go to +him, and hold out his hand in friendship. Yet he knew Corporal +Cassidy was the deadliest menace the earth held for him, a menace +that had followed him like a shadow through months and years-- +across the Barren Lands, along the rim of the Arctic, down the +Mackenzie, and back again--a menace that never tired, and was +never far behind in that ten thousand miles of wilderness they had +covered. Together in the bloodstirring game of One against One +they had faced the deadliest perils of the northland. They had +gone hungry, and cold, and more than once a thousand miles of +nothingness lay behind them, and death seemed preferable to +anything that might lie ahead. Yet in that aloneness, when +companionship was more precious than anything else on earth, +neither had cried quits. The game had gone on, Cassidy after his +man--and Jolly Roger McKay fighting for his freedom. + +As he headed his canoe north and east, Jolly Roger thought again +of the wager made weeks ago down at Cragg's Ridge, when he had +turned the tables on Cassidy and when Cassidy had made a solemn +oath to resign from the service if he failed to get his man in +their next encounter. He knew Cassidy would keep his word, and +something told him that tonight the last act in this tragedy of +two had begun. He chuckled again as he pictured the probable +course of events on shore. Cassidy, backed by the law, was +demanding another canoe and a necessary outfit of Slim Buck. Slim +Buck, falling back on his tribal dignity, was killing all possible +time in making the preparations. When pursuit was resumed Jolly +Roger would have at least a mile the start of the red-headed +nemesis who hung to his trail. And Wollaston Lake, sixty miles +from end to end, and half as wide, offered plenty of room in which +to find safety. + +The rising of the wind, which came from the south and west, was +pleasing to Jolly Roger, and he put less caution and more force +into the sweep of his paddle. For two hours he kept steadily +eastward, and then swung a little north, guiding himself by the +stars. With the breaking of dawn he made out the thickly wooded +shore on the opposite side of the lake from Slim Buck's camp, and +before the sun was half an hour high he had drawn up his canoe at +the tip of a headland which gave him a splendid view of the lake +in all directions. + +From this point, comfortably encamped in the cool shadows of a +thick clump of spruce, Jolly Roger and Peter watched all that day +for a sign of their enemy. As far as the eye could reach no +movement of human life appeared on the quiet surface of Wollaston. +Not until that hazy hour between sunset and dusk did he build a +fire and cook a meal from the supplies in Cassidy's pack, for he +knew smoke could be discerned much farther than a canoe. Yet even +as he observed this caution he was confident there was no longer +any danger in returning to Yellow Bird and her people. + +"You see, Pied-Bot," he said, discussing the matter with Peter, +while he smoked a pipeful of tobacco in the early evening, +"Cassidy thinks we're on our way north, as fast as we can go. +He'll hit for the upper end of the Lake and the Black River +waterway, and keep right on into the Porcupine country. It's a big +country up there, and we've always taken plenty of space for our +travels. Shall we go back to Yellow Bird, Peter? And Sun Cloud?" + +Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked +the questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He +wanted to go back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged +by a great loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his +loss of Nada, and understood how empty life had become for him. +She had, in a way, become a part of Nada; her presence raised him +out of despair, her voice gave him hope, her unconquerable spirit +--fighting for his happiness--inspired him until he saw light where +there had been only darkness. The impelling desire to return to +her brought him to his feet and down to the pebbly shore of the +lake, where the water rippled softly in the thickening gloom. But +a still more powerful force held him back, and he went to his +blankets, spread over a thick couch of balsam boughs. For hours +his eyes were wide open and sleepless. + +He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt--a +charitable inclination to half believe--gave way in him to a +conviction which he could not fight down. More than once in his +years of wilderness life strange facts had compelled him to give +some credence to the power of the Indian conjurer. Belief in the +mastery of the mind was part of his faith in nature. It had come +to him from his mother, who had lived and died in the strength of +her creed. + +"Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true," +she had told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it +possible she had told him the truth? Had her mind actually +communed with the mind of Nada? Had she, through the sheer force +of her illimitable faith, projected her subconscious self into the +future that she might show him the way? His eyes were staring, his +ears unhearing, as he thought of the proof which Yellow Bird had +given to him. A few hours ago she had brought him warning of +impending danger. There had been no hesitation and no doubt. She +had come to him unequivocal and sure. Without seeing, without +hearing, she knew Cassidy was stealing upon him through the night. + +In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. +Without effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, +Yellow Bird had given him a test of her power. It had been a +spontaneous and unstaged thing, a woman's heart reaching out for +him--as she had promised that it would. And yet, even as the +simplicity and truth of it pressed upon him, doubt followed with +its questions. If, after this, Yellow Bird had told him to return +to Nada as swiftly as he could, he would have believed, and this +night would have seen him on his way. But she had warned him +against this, predicting desolation and grief if he returned. She +had urged him to go on, somewhere, anywhere, seeking for an +illusion and an unreality which the spirits had named, to her as +the Country Beyond. And when he reached this Country Beyond, +wherever it might be, he would possess Nada again, and happiness +for all time. After all, there was something archaically crude in +what he was trying to believe, when he came to analyze it. Yellow +Bird possessed her powers, but they were definitely limited. And +to believe beyond those limitations, to ride upon the wings of +superstition and imagination, was sheer savagery. + +Jolly Roger stretched himself upon his blankets again, repeating +this final argument to himself. But as the night drew closer about +him, and his eyes closed, and sleep came, there was a lightness in +his heart which he had not known for many days. He dreamed, and +his dream was of Nada. He was with her again and it seemed, in +this dream, that Yellow Bird was always watching them, and they +could not quite get away from her. They ran through the jackpine +openings where the strawberries and blue violets grew, and he +always ran behind Nada, so he could see her brown curls flying +about her. + +But they never could rid themselves of Yellow Bird, no matter how +fast they ran or where they tried to hide. From somewhere Yellow +Bird's dark eyes would look out at them, and finally, laughing at +his own discomfiture, he drew Nada down beside him in a little +fen, white and yellow and blue with wildflowers, and boldly took +her head in his arms and kissed her--with Yellow Bird looking at +them from behind a banksian clump twenty feet away. So real was +the kiss, and so real the warm pressure of Nada's slim arms about +his neck that he awoke with a glad cry--and sat up to find the +dawn had come. + +For a few moments he sat stupidly, looking about him as if not +quite believing the unreality of it all. Then with Peter he went +down to the edge of the lake. + +All that day Peter sensed a quiet change in his master. Jolly +Roger did not talk. He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly +when he moved at all, with a set, strange look in his face. He was +making his last big fight against the desire to return to Cragg's +Ridge. Yellow Bird's predictions, and her warning, had no +influence with him now. He was thinking of Nada alone. She was +back there, waiting for him, praying for his return, ready and +happy to become a fugitive with him--to accept her chances of life +or death, of happiness or grief, in his company. A dozen times the +determination to return for her almost won. But each time came the +other picture--a vision of ceaseless flight, of hiding, of hunger +and cold and never ending hardship, and at the last, inevitable as +the dawning of another day--prison, and possibly the hangman. + +Not until late that afternoon did Peter see the old Jolly Roger in +the face of his master. And Jolly Roger said: + +"We've made up our mind, Pied-Bot. We can't go back. We'll hit +north and spend the winter along the edge of the Barren Lands. +It's the biggest country I know of, and if Cassidy comes--" + +He shrugged his shoulders grimly. + +In half an hour they had started, with the sun beginning to sink +in the west. + +For two days Jolly Roger and Peter paddled their way slowly up the +eastern shore of Wollaston. That he had correctly analyzed the +mental arguments which would guide Cassidy in his pursuit Jolly +Roger had little doubt. He would keep to the west shore, and up +through the Hatchet Lake and Black River waterways, as his quarry +had never failed to hit straight for the farther north in time of +peril. Meanwhile Jolly Roger had decided to make his way without +haste up the east shore of Wollaston, and paddle north and east +through the Du Brochet and Thiewiaza River waterways. If these +courses were followed, each hour would add to the distance between +them, and when the way was safe they would head straight for the +Barren Lands. + +Peter, and only Peter, sensed the glory of that third afternoon +when they paddled slowly ashore close to the shimmering stream of +spring water that was called Limping Moose Creek. The sun was +still two hours high in the west. There was no wind, and Wollaston +was like a mirror; yet in the still air was the clean, cool tang +of early autumn, and shoreward the world reached out in ridges and +billows of tinted forests, with a September haze pulsing softly +over them, fleecy as the misty shower of a lady's powder puff. It +was destined to be a memorable afternoon for Peter, a going down +of the sun that he would never forget as long as he lived. + +Yet there was no warning of the thing impending, and his eyes saw +only the mystery and wonder of the big world, and his ears heard +only the drowsing murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet +scents of cedars and balsams and of flowering and ripening things. +Straight ahead, beyond the white shore line, was a low ridge, and +this ridge--where it was not purple and black with the evergreen-- +was red with the crimson blotches of mountain-ash berries, and +patches of fire flowers that glowed like flame in the setting sun. + +From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly +the voice and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A +big jay was screeching over it all, and between the first ridge +and the second--which rose still higher beyond it--a cloud of +crows were circling excitedly over a mother black bear and her +half grown cubs as they feasted on the red ash berries. But Peter +could not smell the bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows +were of less interest than the wonder and mystery of the shore +close at hand. + +He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at +his master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face +or eyes. The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it +gave promise to Peter. Beyond what he could see there lay, for +him, a vast emptiness, a chaos of loneliness, an eternity of +shattered hopes and broken dreams. Love of life was gone out of +him. He saw no beauty. The sun had changed. The sky was different. +The bigness of his wilderness no longer thrilled him, but +oppressed him. + +Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the +reason for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so +Jolly Roger had changed for Peter. + +They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter +jumped out. A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the +shore ahead of him. He perked up his angular ears, and then his +nose caught a fresh scent under his feet where a porcupine had +left his trail. And he heard more clearly the raucous tumult of +the jay and the musical chattering of the red squirrels. + +All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and +life thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days +ago. He adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green +willows and the young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers +that fringed the beginning of the forest. It had rained recently +here, and the scents were fresh and sweet. + +He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its juscious black +berries, and began nibbling at them. A gopher, coming to his +supper bush, gave a little squeak of annoyance, and Peter saw the +bright eyes of the midget glaring at him from under a big fern +leaf. Peter wagged his tail, for the savagery of his existence was +qualified by that mellowing sense of humor which had always been a +part of his master. He yipped softly, in a companionable sort of +way. + +And then there smote upon his ears a sound which hardened every +muscle in his body. + +"Throw up your hands, McKay!" + +He turned his head. Close to him stood a man. In an instant he had +recognized him. It was the man whose scent he had first discovered +down at Cragg's Ridge, the man from whom his master was always +running away, the man whose voice he had heard again at Yellow +Bird's Camp a few nights ago--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. + +Twenty paces away stood McKay. His dunnage was on his back, his +paddle in his hand. And Cassidy, smiling grimly, a dangerous humor +in his eyes, was leveling an automatic at his breast. It was, in +that instant, a tableau which no man could ever forget. Cassidy +was bareheaded, and the sun burned hotly in his red hair. And his +face was red, and in the pale blue of his Irish eyes was a fierce +joy of achievement. At last, after months and years, the thrilling +game of One against One was at an end. Cassidy had made the last +move, and he was winner. + +For half a minute after the command to throw up his hands McKay +did not move. And Cassidy did not repeat the command, for he +sensed the shock that had fallen upon his adversary, and was +charitable enough to give him time. And then, with something like +a deep sigh from between his lips, Jolly Roger's body sagged. The +dunnage dropped from his shoulder to the sand. The paddle slipped +from his hand. Slowly he raised his arms above his head, and +Cassidy laughed softly. + +A few days ago McKay would have grinned back, coolly, good +humoredly, appreciative of the other's craftsmanship even in the +hour of his defeat. But today there was another soul within him. + +His eyes no longer saw the old Cassidy, brave and loyal to his +duty, a chivalrous enemy, the man he had yearned to love as +brother loves brother, even in the hours of sharpest pursuit. In +Cassidy he saw now the hangman himself. The whole world had turned +against him, and in this hour of his greatest despair and +hopelessness a bitter fate had turned up Cassidy to deal him the +finishing blow. + +A swift rage burned in him, even as he raised his hands. It swept +through his brain in a blinding inundation. He did not think of +the law, or of death, or of freedom. It was the unfairness of the +thing that filled his soul with the blackness of one last terrible +desire for vengeance. Cassidy's gun, leveled at his breast, meant +nothing. A thousand guns leveled at his breast would have meant +nothing. A choking sound came from his lips, and like a shot his +right hand went to his revolver holster. + +In that last second or two Cassidy had foreseen the impending +thing, and with the movement of the other's hand he cried out: + +"Stop! For God's sake stop--or I shall fire!" + +Even into the soul of Peter there came in that moment the +electrical thrill of something terrific about to happen, of +impending death, of tragedy close at hand. Once, a long time ago, +Peter had felt another moment such as this--when he had buried his +fangs in Jed Hawkins' leg to save Nada. + +In that fraction of a second which carried Peter through space, +Corporal Cassidy's finger was pressing the trigger of his +automatic, for McKay's gun was half out of its holster. He was +aiming at the other's shoulder, somewhere not to kill. + +The shock of Peter's assault came simultaneously with the +explosion of his gun, and McKay heard the hissing spit of the +bullet past his ear. His arm darted out. And as Peter buried his +teeth deeper into Cassidy's leg, he heard a second shot, and knew +that it came from his master. There was no third. Cassidy drooped, +and something like a little laugh came from him--only it was not a +laugh. His body sagged, and then crumpled down, so that the weight +of him fell upon Peter. + +For many seconds after that Jolly Roger stood with his gun in his +hand, not a muscle of his body moving, and with something like +stupor in his staring eyes. Peter struggled out from under +Cassidy, and looked inquisitively from his master to the man who +lay sprawled out like a great spider upon the sand. It was then +that life seemed to come back into Jolly Roger's body. His gun +fell, as if it was the last thing in the world to count for +anything now, and with a choking cry he ran to Cassidy and dropped +upon his knees beside him. + +"Cassidy--Cassidy--" he cried. "Good God, I didn't mean to do it! +Cassidy, old pal--" + +The agony in his voice stilled the growl in Peter's throat. McKay +saw nothing for a space, as he raised Cassidy's head and +shoulders, and brushed back the mop of red hair. Everything was a +blur before his eyes. He had killed Cassidy. He knew it. He had +shot to kill, and not once in a hundred times did he miss his +mark. At last he was what the law wanted him to be--a murderer. +And his victim was Cassidy--the man who had played him fairly and +squarely from beginning to end, the man who had never taken a mean +advantage of him, and who had died there in the white sand because +he had not shot to kill. With sobbing breath he cried out his +grief, and then, looking down, he saw the miracle in Cassidy's +face. The Irishman's eyes were wide open, and there was pain, and +also a grin, about his mouth. + +"I'm glad you're sorry," he said. "I'd hate to have a bad opinion +of you, McKay. But--you're a rotten shot!" + +His body sagged heavily, and the grin slowly left his lips, and a +moan came from between them. He struggled and spoke. + +"It may be--you'll want help, McKay. If you do--there's a cabin +half a mile up the creek. Saw the smoke--heard axe--I don't blame +you. You're a good sport--pretty quick--but--rotten shot! Oh, +Lord--such--rotten--shot--" + +And he tried vainly to grin up into Jolly Roger's face as he +became a lifeless weight in the other's arms. + +Jolly Roger was sobbing. He was sobbing, in a strange, hard man- +fashion, as he tore open Cassidy's shirt and saw the red wound +that went clean through Cassidy's right breast just under the +shoulder. And Peter still heard that strange sound coming from his +lips, a moaning as if for breath, as his master ran and brought up +water, and worked over the fallen man. And then he got under +Cassidy, and rose up with him on his shoulders, and staggered off +with him toward the creek. There he found a path, a narrow foot +trail, and not once did he stop with his burden until he came into +a little clearing, out of which Cassidy had seen the smoke rising. +In this clearing was a cabin, and from the cabin came an old man +to meet him--an old man and a girl. + +At first something shot up into Peter's throat, for he thought it +was Nada who came behind the grizzled and white-headed man. There +was the same lithe slimness in her body, the same brown glint in +her hair, and the same--but he saw then that it was not Nada. She +was older. She was a bit taller. And her face was white when she +saw the bleeding burden on Jolly Roger's back. + +"I shot him," panted McKay. "God knows I didn't mean to! I'm +afraid--" + +He did not finish giving voice to the fear that Cassidy was dead-- +or dying, and for a moment he saw only the big staring eyes of the +girl as the gray-bearded man helped him with his burden. Not until +the Irishman was on a cot in the cabin did he discover how +childishly weak he had become and what a terrific struggle he had +made with the weight on his shoulders. He sank into a chair, while +the old trapper worked over Cassidy. + +He heard the girl call him grandfather. She was no longer +frightened, and she moved like a swift bird about the cabin, +getting water and bandages and pillows, and the sight of fresh +blood and of Cassidy's dead-white face brought a glow of +tenderness into her eyes. McKay, sitting dumbly, saw that her +hands were doing twice the work his own could have accomplished, +and not until he heard a low moan from the wounded man did he come +to her side. + +"The bullet went through clean as a whistle," the old man said. +"Lucky you don't use soft nosed bullets, friend." + +A deep sigh came from Cassidy's lips. His eyelids fluttered, and +then slowly his eyes opened. The girl was bending over him, and +Cassidy saw only her face, and the brown sheen of her hair. + +"He'll live?" Jolly Roger said tremulously. + +The older man remained mute. It was Cassidy, turning his head a +little, who answered weakly. + +"Don't worry, McKay. I'll--live." + +Jolly Roger bent over the cot, between Cassidy and the girl. +Gently he took one of the wounded man's hands in both his own. + +"I'm sorry, old man," he whispered. "You won, fair and square. And +I won't go far away. I'll be waiting for you when you get on your +feet. I promise that. I'll wait." + +A wan smile came over Cassidy's lips, and then he moaned again, +and his eyes closed. The girl thrust Jolly Roger back. + +"No--you better not go far, an' you better wait," she said, and +there was an unspoken thing in the dark glow of her eyes that made +him think of Nada on that day when she told him how Jed Hawkins +had struck her in the cabin at Cragg's Ridge. + +That night Jolly Roger made his camp close to the mouth of the +Limping Moose. And for three days thereafter his trail led only +between this camp and the cabin of old Robert Baron and his +granddaughter, Giselle. All this time Cassidy was telling things +in a fever. He talked a great deal about Jolly Roger. And the +girl, nursing him night and day, with scarcely a wink of sleep +between, came to believe they had been great comrades, and had +been inseparable for a long time. Even then she would not let +McKay take her place at Cassidy's side. The third day she started +him off for a post sixty miles away to get a fresh supply of +bandages and medicines. + +It was evening, three days later, when Jolly Roger and Peter +returned. The windows of the cabin were brightly lighted, and +McKay came up to one of these windows and looked in. Cassidy was +bolstered up in his cot. He was very much alive, and on the floor +at his side, sitting on a bear rug, was the girl. A lump rose in +Jolly Roger's throat. Quietly he placed the bundle which he had +brought from the post close up against the door, and knocked. When +Giselle opened it he had disappeared into darkness, with Peter at +his heels. + +The next morning he found old Robert and said to him: + +"I'm restless, and I'm going to move a little. I'll be back in two +weeks. Tell Cassidy that, will you?" + +Ten minutes later he was paddling up the shore of Wollaston, and +for a week thereafter he haunted the creeks and inlets, always on +the move. Peter saw him growing thinner each day. There was less +and less of cheer in his voice, seldom a smile on his lips, and +never did his laugh ring out as of old. Peter tried to understand, +and Jolly Roger talked to him, but not in the old happy way. + +"We might have finished him, an' got rid of him for good," he said +to Peter one chilly night beside their campfire. "But we couldn't, +just like we couldn't have brought Nada up here with us. And we're +going back. I'm going to keep that promise. We're going back, +Peter, if we hang for it!" + +And Jolly Roger's jaw would set grimly as he measured the time +between. + +The tenth day came and he set out for the mouth of the Canoe +River. On the afternoon of the twelfth he paddled slowly into +Limping Moose Creek. Without any reason he looked at his watch +when he started for old Robert's cabin. It was four o'clock. He +was two days ahead of his promise, and there was a bit of +satisfaction in that. There was an odd thumping at his heart. He +had faith in Cassidy, a belief that the Irishman would call their +affair a draw, and tell him to take another chance in the big +open. He was the sort of man to live up to the letter of a wager, +when it was honestly made. But, if he didn't-- + +Jolly Roger paused long enough to take the cartridges from his +gun. There would be no more shooting'--on his part. + +The mellow autumn sun was flooding the open door of the cabin when +he came up. He heard laughter. It was Giselle. She was talking, +too. And then he heard a man's voice--and from far off to his +right came the chopping of an axe. Old Robert was at work. Giselle +and Cassidy were at home. + +He stepped up to the door, coughing to give notice of his +approach. And then, suddenly, he stopped, staring thunderstruck at +what was happening within. + +Terence Cassidy was sitting in a big chair. The girl was behind +him. Her white arms were around his neck, her face was bent down, +her lips were kissing him. + +In an instant Cassidy's eyes had caught him. + +"Come in," he cried, so suddenly and so loudly that it startled +the girl. "McKay, come in!" + +Jolly Roger entered, and the girl stood up straight behind +Cassidy's chair, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with the +glow of the sunset. And Terence Cassidy was grinning in that old +triumphant way as he leaned forward in his chair, gripping the +arms of it with both hands. + +"McKay, you've lost," he cried. "I'm the winner!" + +In the same moment he took the girl's hand and drew her from +behind his chair. + +"Giselle, do as you said you were going to do. Prove to him that +I've won." + +Slowly she came to Jolly Roger. Her cheeks were like the red of +the sunset. Her eyes were flaming. Her lips were parted. And +dumbly he waited, and wondered, until she stood close to him. +Then, swiftly, her arms were around his neck, and she kissed him. +In an instant she was back on her knees at the wounded man's side, +her burning face hidden against him, and Cassidy was laughing, and +holding out both hands to McKay. + +"McKay, Roger McKay, I want you to meet Mrs. Terence Cassidy, my +wife," he said. And the girl raised her face, so that her shining +eyes were on Jolly Roger. + +Still dumbly he stood where he was. + +"The Missioner from Du Brochet was here yesterday, and married +us," he heard Cassidy saying. "And we've written out my +resignation together, old man. We've both won. I thank God you put +that bullet into me down on the shore, for it's brought me +paradise. And here's my hand on it, McKay--forever and ever!" + +Half an hour later, when McKay stumbled out into the forest trail +again, his eyes were blinded by tears and his heart choked by a +new hope as big as the world itself. Yellow Bird was right, and +God must have been with her that night when her soul went to +commune with Nada's. For Yellow Bird had proved herself again. And +now he believed her. + +He believed in the world again. He believed in love and happiness +and the glory of life, and as he went down the narrow trail to his +canoe, with Peter close behind him, his heart was crying out +Nada's name and Yellow Bird's promise that sometime--somewhere-- +they two would find happiness together, as Giselle and Terence +Cassidy had found it. + +And Peter heard the chopping of the distant axe, and the song of +birds, and the chattering of squirrels--but thrilling his soul +most of all was the voice of his master, the old voice, the glad +voice, the voice he had first learned to love at Cragg's Ridge in +the days of blue violets and red strawberries, when Nada had +filled his world. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +McKay still had his mind on a certain stretch of timber that +reached out into the Barren Lands, hundreds of miles farther +north. In this hiding place, three years before, he had built +himself a cabin, and had caught foxes during half the long winter. +Not only the cabin, but the foxes, were drawing him. Necessity was +close upon his heels. What little money he possessed after leaving +Cragg's Ridge was exhausted, his supplies were gone, and his boots +and clothes were patched with deer hide. + +In the Snowbird Lake country, a week after he left Cassidy in his +paradise at Wollaston, he fell in with good fortune. Two trappers +had come in from Churchill. One of them was sick, and the other +needed help in the building of their winter cabin. McKay remained +with them for ten days, and when he continued his journey +northward his pack was stuffed with supplies, and he wore new +boots and more comfortable clothes. + +It was the middle of October when he found his old cabin, a +thousand miles from Cragg's Ridge. It was as he had left it three +years ago. No one had opened its door since then. The little box +stove was waiting for a fire. Behind it was a pile of wood. On the +table were the old tin dishes, and hanging from babiche cords +fastened to the roof timbers, out of reach of mice and ermine, +were blankets and clothing and other possessions he had left +behind him in that winter break-up of what seemed like ages ago to +him. He raised a small section in the floor, and there were his +traps, thickly coated with caribou grease. For half an hour before +he built a fire he sought eagerly for the things he had concealed +here and there. He found oil, and a tin lamp, and candles, and as +darkness of the first night gathered outside a roaring fire sent +sparks up the chimney, and the little cabin's one window glowed +with light, and the battered old coffee pot bubbled and steamed +again, as if rejoicing at his return. + +With the breaking of another day he immediately began preparations +for the season's trapping. In two days' hunting he killed three +caribou, his winter meat. Then he cut wood, and made his +strychnine poison baits, and marked out his trap-lines. + +The first of November brought the chill whisperings of an early +winter through the Northland. Farther south autumn was dying, or +dead. The last of the red ash berries hung shriveled and frost- +bitten on naked twigs, freezing nights were nipping the face of +the earth, the voices of the wilderness were filled with a new +note and the winds held warning for every man and beast between +Hudson's Bay and the Great Slave and from the Height of Land to +the Arctic Sea. Seven years before there had come such a winter, +and the land had not forgotten it--a winter sudden and swift, +deadly in its unexpectedness, terrific in its cold, bringing with +it such famine and death as the Northland had not known for two +generations. + +But this year there was premonition. Omen of it came with the +first wailing night winds that bore the smell of icebergs from +over the black forests north and west. The moon came up red, and +it went down red, and the sun came up red in the morning. The +loon's call died a month ahead of its time. The wild geese drove +steadily south when they should have been feeding from the Kogatuk +to Baffin's Bay, and the beaver built his walls thick, and +anchored his alders and his willows deep so that he would not +starve when the ice grew heavy. East, west, north and south, in +forest and swamp, in the trapper's cabin and the wolf's hiding- +place, was warning of it. Gray rabbits turned white. Moose and +caribou began to herd. The foxes yipped shrilly in the night, and +a new hunger and a new thrill sent the wolves hunting in packs, +while the gray geese streaked southward under the red moon +overhead. + +Through this November, and all of December, Jolly Roger and Peter +were busy from two hours before dawn of each day until late at +night. The foxes were plentiful, and McKay was compelled to +shorten his lines and put out fewer baits, and on the tenth of +December he set out for a fur-trading post ninety miles south with +two hundred and forty skins. He had made a toboggan, and a harness +for Peter, and pulling together they made the trip in three days, +and on the fourth started for the cabin again with supplies and +something over a thousand dollars in cash. + +Through the weeks of increasing storm and cold that followed, +McKay continued to trap, and early in February he made another +trip to the fur post. + +It was on their return that they were caught in the Black Storm. +It will be a long time before the northland will forget that +storm. It was a storm in which the Sarcees died to a man, woman +and child over on the Dubawnt waterways, and when trees froze +solid and split open with the sharp explosions of high-power guns. +In it, all furred and feathered life and all hoof and horn along +the edge of the Barren Lands from Aberdeen Lake to the Coppermine +was swallowed up. It was in this storm that streams froze solid, +and the man who was cautious fastened a babiche rope about his +waist when he went forth from his cabin for wood or water, so that +his wife might help to pull and guide him back through that +blinding avalanche of wind and freezing fury that held a twisted +and broken world in its grip. + +In the country west of Artillery Lake and south of the Theolon +River, Jolly Roger and Peter were compelled to "dig in." They were +in a country where the biggest stick of wood that thrust itself up +out of the snow was no bigger than McKay's thumb; a country of +green grass and succulent moss on which the caribou fed in season, +but a hell on earth when arctic storm howled and screamed across +it in winter. + +Piled up against a mass of rock Jolly Roger found a huge snow +drift. This drift was as long as a church and half as high, with +its outer shell blistered and battered to the hardness of rock by +wind and sleet. Through this shell he cut a small door with his +knife, and after that dug out the soft snow from within until he +had a room half as big as his cabin, and so snug and warm after a +little with the body heat of himself and Peter that he could throw +off the thick coat which he wore. + +To Peter, in the first night of this storm, it seemed as though +all the people in the world were shrieking and wailing and sobbing +in the blackness outside. Jolly Roger sat smoking his pipe at +intervals in the gloom, though there was little pleasure in +smoking a pipe in darkness. The storm did not oppress him, but +filled him with an odd sense of security and comfort. The wind +shrieked and lashed itself about his snow-dune, but it could not +get at him. Its mightiest efforts to destroy only beat more snow +upon him, and made him safer and warmer. In a way, there was +something of humor as well as tragedy in its wild frenzy, and +Peter heard him laugh softly in the darkness. More and more +frequently he had heard that laugh since those warm days of autumn +when they had last met the red-headed man, Terence Cassidy, of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police, and his master had shot him on the +white shore of Wollaston. + +"You see," said McKay, caressing Peter's hairy neck in the gloom. +"Everything is turning out right for us, and I'm beginning to +believe more and more what Yellow Bird told us, and that in the +end we're going to be happy--somewhere--with Nada. What do you +think, Pied-Bot? Shall we take a chance, and go back to Cragg's +Ridge in the spring?" + +Peter wriggled himself in answer, as a wild shriek of wind wailed +over the huge snow-dune. + +Jolly Roger's fingers tightened at Peter's neck. + +"Well, we're going," he said, as though he was telling Peter +something new. "I'm believing Yellow Bird, Pied-Bot. I'm believing +her--now. What she told us was more than fortune-telling. It +wasn't just Indian sorcery. When she shut herself up and starved +for those three days and nights in her little conjurer's house, +just for you and me--SOMETHING HAPPENED. Didn't it? Wouldn't you +say something happened?" + +Peter swallowed and his teeth clicked as he gave evidence of +understanding. + +"She told us a lot of truth," went on Jolly Roger, with deep faith +in his voice "And we must believe, Pied-Bot. She told us Cassidy +was coming after us, and he came. She said the spirits promised +her the law would never get us, and we thought it looked bad when +Cassidy had us covered with his gun on the shore at Wollaston. But +something more than luck was with us, and we shot him. Then we +brought him back to life and lugged him to a cabin, and the little +stranger girl took him, and nursed him, and Cassidy fell in love +with her--and married her. So Yellow Bird was right again, Pied- +Bot. We've got to believe her. And she says everything is coming +out right for us, and that we are going back to Nada, and be +happy--" + +Jolly Roger's pipe-bowl glowed in the blackness. + +"I'm going to light the alcohol lamp," he said. "We can't sleep. +And I want a good smoke. It isn't fun when you can't see the +smoke. Too bad God forgot to make you so you could use a pipe, +Peter. You don't know what you are missing--in times like these." + +He fumbled in his pack and found the alcohol lamp, which was fresh +filled and screwed tight. Peter heard him working for a moment in +the darkness. Then he struck a match, and the yellow flare of it +lighted up his face. In his joy Peter whined. It was good to see +his master. And then, in another moment, the little lamp was +filling their white-walled refuge with a mellow glow. Jolly +Roger's eyes, coming suddenly out of darkness, were wide and +staring. His face was covered with a scrub beard. But there was +something of cheer about him even in this night of terror outside, +and when he had driven his snowshoe into the snow wall, and had +placed the lamp on it, he grinned companionably at Peter. + +Then, with a deep breath of satisfaction, he puffed out clouds of +smoke from his pipe, and stood up to look about their room. + +"Not so bad, is it?" he asked. "We could have a big house here if +we wanted to dig out rooms--eh, Peter? Parlors, and bed-rooms, and +a library--and not a policeman within a million miles of us. +That's the nice part of it, PIED-BOT--none of the Royal Mounties +to trouble us. They would never think of looking for us in the +heart of a big snow-dune out in this God-forsaken barren, would +they?" + +The thought was a pleasing one to Jolly Roger. He spread out his +blankets on the snow floor, and sat down on them, facing Peter. + +"We've got 'em beat," he said, a chuckling note of pride in his +voice. "The world is small when it comes to hiding, Pied-Bot, but +all the people in it couldn't find us here--not in a million +years. If we could only find a place as safe as this--where a girl +could live--and had Nada with us--" + +Many times during the past few weeks Peter had seen the light that +flamed up now in his master's eyes. That, and the strange thrill +in Jolly Roger's voice, stirred him more than the words to which +he listened, and tried to understand. + +"And we're GOING to," finished McKay, almost fiercely, his hands +clenching as he leaned toward Peter. "We have made a big mistake, +Pied-Bot, and it has taken us a long time to see it. It will be +hard for us to leave our north country, but that is what we must +do. Maybe Yellow Bird's good spirits meant that when they said we +would find happiness with Nada in a place called The Country +Beyond. There are a lot of 'Countries Beyond,' Peter, and as soon +as the spring break-up comes and we can travel without leaving +trails behind us we will go back to Cragg's Ridge and get Nada, +and hit for some place where the law won't expect to find us. +There's China, for instance. A lot of yellow people. But what do +we care for color as long as we have her with us? I say--" + +Suddenly he stopped. And Peter's body grew tense. Both faced the +round hole, half filled with softly packed snow, which McKay had +cut as a door into the heart of the big drift. They had grown +accustomed to the tumult of the storm. Its strange wailings and +the shrieking voices which at times seemed borne in the moaning +sweep of it no longer sent shivers of apprehension through Peter. +But in that moment when both turned to listen there came a sound +which was not like the other sounds they had heard. It was a +voice--not one of the phantom voices of the screaming wind, but a +voice so real and so near that for a beat or two even Jolly Roger +McKay's heart stood still. It was as if a man, standing just +beyond their snow barricade, had shouted a name. But there came no +second call. The wind lulled, so that for a space there was +stillness outside. + +Jolly Roger laughed a little uneasily. + +"Good thing we don't believe in ghosts, Peter, or we would swear +it was a Loup-Garou smelling us through the wall!" He thumbed the +tobacco down in his pine, and nodded. "Then--there is South +America," he said. "They have everything down there--the biggest +rivers in the world, the biggest mountains, and so much room that +even a Loup-Garou couldn't hunt us out. She will love it, Pied- +Bot. But if it happens she likes Africa better, or Australia, or +the South Sea--Now, what the devil was that?" + +Peter had jumped as if stung, and for a moment Jolly Roger sat +tense as a carven Indian. Then he rose to his feet, a look of +perplexity and doubt in his eyes. + +"What was it, Peter? Can the wind shoot a gun--like THAT?" + +Peter was sniffing at the loosely blocked door of their snow-room. +A whimper rose in his throat. He looked up at Jolly Roger, his +eyes glowing fiercely through the mass of Airedale whiskers that +covered his face. He wanted to dig. He wanted to plunge out into +the howling darkness. Slowly McKay beat the ash out of his pipe +and placed the pipe in his pocket. + +"We'll take a look," he said, something repressive in his voice. +"But it isn't reasonable, Peter. It is the wind. There couldn't be +a man out there, and it wasn't a rifle we heard. It is the wind-- +with the devil himself behind it!" + +With a few sweeps of his hands and arms he scooped out the loose +snow from the hole. The opening was on the sheltered side of the +drift, and only the whirling eddies of the storm swept about him +as he thrust out his head and shoulders. But over him it was +rushing like an avalanche. He could hear nothing but the moaning +advance of it. And he could see nothing. He held out his hand +before his face, and blackness swallowed it. + +"We have been chased so much that we're what you might call super- +sensitive," he said, pulling himself back and nodding at Peter in +the gray light of the alcohol lamp. "Guess we'd better turn in, +boy. This is a good place to sleep--plenty of fresh air, no +mosquitoes or black flies, and the police so far away that we will +soon forget how they look. If you say so we will have a nip of +cold tea and a bite--" + +He did not finish. For a moment the wind had lessened in fury, as +if gathering a deeper breath. And what he heard drew a cry from +him this time, and a sharper whine from Peter. Out of the +blackness of the night had come a woman's voice! In that first +instant of shock and amazement he would have staked his life that +what he heard was not a mad outcry of the night or an illusion of +his brain. It was clear--distinct--a woman's voice coming from out +on the Barren, rising above the storm in an agony of appeal, and +dying out quickly until it became a part of the moaning wind. And +then, with equal force, came the absurdity of it to McKay. A +woman! He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and +tried to laugh. A WOMAN--out in that storm--a thousand miles from +nowhere! It was inconceivable. + +The laugh which he forced from his lips was husky and unreal, and +there was a smothering grip of something at his heart. In the +ghostly light of the alcohol lamp his eyes were wide open and +staring. + +He looked at Peter. The dog stood stiff-legged before the hole. +His body was trembling. + +"Peter!" + +With a responsive wag of his tail Peter turned his bristling face +up to his master. Many times Jolly Roger had seen that unfailing +warning in his comrade's eyes. THERE WAS SOME ONE OUTSIDE--or +Peter's brain, like his own, was twisted and fooled by the storm! + +Against his reasoning--in the face of the absurdity of it--Jolly +Roger was urged into action. He changed the snowshoe and replaced +the alcohol lamp so that the glow of light could be seen more +clearly from the Barren. Then he went to the hole and crawled +through. Peter followed him. + +As if infuriated by their audacity, the storm lashed itself over +the top of the dune. They could hear the hissing whine of fine +hard snow tearing above their heads like volleys of shot, and the +force of the wind reached them even in their shelter, bringing +with it the flinty sting of the snow-dust. Beyond them the black +barren was filled with a dismal moaning. Looking up, and yet +seeing nothing in the darkness, Peter understood where the weird +shriekings and ghostly cries came from. It was the wind whipping +itself up the side and over the top of the dune. + +Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that +mighty force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again +one of those brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a +moment, and its moaning grew less and less, until it was like the +sound of giant chariot wheels receding swiftly over the face of +the earth. Then came the silence--a few seconds of it--while in +the north gathered swiftly the whispering rumble of a still +greater force. + +And in this silence came once more a cry--a cry which Jolly Roger +McKay could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the +report of a rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a +woman's voice. As nearly as he could judge it came from dead +ahead, out of the chaos of blackness, and in that direction he +shouted an answer. Then he ran out into the darkness, followed by +Peter. Another avalanche of wind gathered at their heels, driving +them on like the crest of a flood. In the first force of it Jolly +Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and in that moment he saw +very faintly the glow of his light at the opening in the snow +dune. A realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of the +light flashed upon him. Again and again he called into the night. +After that, bowing his head in the fury of the storm, he plunged +on deeper into darkness. + +A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into +forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. +In the heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer +doubted it. And the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? +Was it possible she had followed him after his flight, determined +to find him, and share his fate? His heart pounded. Who else, of +all the women in the world, could be following his trail across +the Barrens--a thousand miles from civilization? He began to shout +her name. "Nada--Nada--Nada!" And hidden in the gloom at his side +Peter barked. + +Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the +alcohol lamp died out. Jolly Roger did not look back. Blindly he +stumbled ahead, counting his footsteps as he went, and shouting +Nada's name. Twice he thought he heard a reply, and each time the +will-o'-the-wisp voice seemed to be still farther ahead of him. +Then, with a fiercer blast of the wind beating upon his back, he +stumbled and fell forward upon his face. His hand reached out and +touched the thing that had tripped him. It was not snow. His naked +fingers clutched in something soft and furry. It was a man's coat. +He could feel buttons, a belt, and the sudden thrill of a bearded +face. + +He stood up. The wind was wailing off over the Barren again, +leaving an instant of stillness about him. And he shouted: + +"Nada--Nada--Nada!" + +An answer came so quickly that it startled him, not one voice, but +two--three--and one of them the shrill agonized cry of a woman. +They came toward him as he continued to shout, until a few feet +away he could make out a gray blur moving through the gloom. He +went to it, staggering under the weight of the man he had found in +the snow. The blur was made up of two men dragging a sledge, and +behind the sledge was a third figure, moaning in the darkness. + +"I found some one in the snow," Jolly Roger shouted. "Here he is-- +" + +He dropped his burden, and the last of his words were twisted by a +fresh blast of the storm. But the figure behind the sledge had +heard, and Jolly Roger saw her indistinctly at his feet, shielding +the man he had found with her arms and body, and crying out a name +which he could not understand in that howling of the wind. But a +thing like cold steel sank into his heart, and he knew it was not +Nada he had found this night on the Barren. He placed the +unconscious man on the sledge, believing he was dead. The girl was +crying out something to him, unintelligible in the storm, and one +of the men shouted in a thick throaty voice which he could not +understand. Jolly Roger felt the weight of him as he staggered in +the wind, fighting to keep his feet, and he knew he was ready to +drop down in the snow and die. + +"It's only a step," he shouted. "Can you make it?" + +His words reached the ears of the others. The girl swayed through +the darkness and gripped his arm. The two men began to tug at the +sledge, and Jolly Roger seized the rope between them, wondering +why there were no dogs, and faced the driving of the storm. It +seemed an interminable time before he saw the faint glow of the +alcohol lamp. The last fifty feet was like struggling against an +irresistible hail from machine-guns. Then came the shelter of the +dune. + +One at a time McKay helped to drag them through the hole which he +used for a door. For a space his vision was blurred, and he saw +through the hazy film of storm-blindness the gray faces and +heavily coated forms of those he had rescued. The man he had found +in the snow he placed on his blankets, and the girl fell down upon +her knees beside him. It was then Jolly Roger began to see more +clearly. And in that same instant came a shock as unexpected as +the smash of dynamite under his feet. + +The girl had thrown back her parkee, and was sobbing over the man +on the blankets, and calling him father. She was not like Nada. +Her hair was in thick, dark coils, and she was older. She was not +pretty--now. Her face was twisted by the brutal beating of the +storm, and her eyes were nearly closed. But it was the man Jolly +Roger stared at, while his heart choked inside him. He was +grizzled and gray-bearded, with military mustaches and a bald +head. He was not dead. His eyes were open, and his blue lips were +struggling to speak to the girl whose blindness kept her from +seeing that he was alive. And the coat which he wore was the +regulation service garment of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police! + +Slowly McKay turned, wiping the film of snow-sweat from his eyes, +and stared at the other two. One of them had sunk down with his +back to the snow wall. He was a much younger man, possibly not +over thirty, and his face was ghastly. The third lay where he had +fallen from exhaustion after crawling through the hole. Both wore +service coats, with holsters at their sides. + +The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise. He +sagged back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay. + +"Dam' fine of you, old man," he mumbled between blistered lips. +"I'm Porter--'N' Division--taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort +Churchill--Tavish and his daughter. Made a hell of a mess of it, +haven't I?" + +He struggled to his knees. + +"There's brandy in our kit. It might help--over there," and he +nodded toward the girl and the gray-bearded man on the blankets. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found +the sledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, +and he saw Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the +alcohol lamp, where he waited to help him with the dunnage. In +those seconds he fought to get a grip on himself. A quarter of an +hour ago he had laughed at the thought of the law. Never had it +seemed to be so far away from him, and never had he been more +utterly isolated from the world. His mind was still a bit dazed by +the thing that had happened. The police had not trailed him. They +had not ferreted him out, nor had they stumbled upon him by +accident. It was he who had gone out into the night and +deliberately dragged them in! Of all the trickery fate had played +upon him this was the least to be expected. + +His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the +babiche cordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. "N" +Division, he told himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. +He had never heard of Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and +inasmuch as the outfit was evidently a special escort to Fort +Churchill it was very likely that Porter and his companions would +not be thinking of outlaws, and especially of Jolly Roger McKay. +This was his one chance. To attempt an escape through the blizzard +was not only a desperate hazard. It was death. + +There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed +through the hole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a +flask of liquor to the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the +girl looked at him with eyes that were widening as the snow-sting +left them. Tavish gulped, and his mittened hand closed on the +girl's arm. + +"I'm all right, Jo," he mumbled. "All right--" + +His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug- +out. They were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. +Jolly Roger felt the intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl +a swallow of the brandy, and then passed the flask to Porter. + +"You have saved our lives," said Tavish, in a voice that was +clearer. "I don't just understand how it happened. I remember +stumbling in the darkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind +the sledge. Porter and Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my +daughter, was sheltered under the blankets. After that--" + +He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. He +pointed to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted +there was someone outside, and they had taken a chance by going in +search of them. He was John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm +had caught him fifty miles from his cabin. He was traveling +without a dog-sledge, and had only a pack-outfit. + +Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening +to him. One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the +wilderness man of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a +strange sort of way. And then, as if catching himself, he nodded, +and began rubbing his frosted face with handfuls of snow. + +Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of the +dunnage sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than +the other two. Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes +turned to Jolly Roger. They were large, fine eyes, wide open and +clear now. There was something of splendid strength about her as +she smiled at McKay. She was not of the hysterical sort. He could +see that. + +"If we could have some hot soup," she suggested. "May we?" + +There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to +express in words. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind +her, and watched her as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed +the cheeks of the bearded man with snow. + +"There's an alcohol stove in the other pack," said Breault, with +his hard, narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. "By +the way, what did you say your name was?" + +"Cummings--John Cummings." + +Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger felt +stealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup +and ate bannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy +fur garment that enveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. +Her eyes were bright, and in her voice was a tremble of happiness +at finding warmth and life where she had expected death. Porter's +friendliness was almost brotherly. He explained what had happened. +Two rascally Chippewyans had deserted them, stealing off into +darkness and storm with both dog teams and one of their sledges. +After that they had fought on, seeking for a drift into which they +might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth as a table. They +had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because they +expected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in +the storm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter +thought, that Superintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the +service, should have given up the ghost so easily. + +Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with +the possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. +Yet Jolly Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were +specially attentive. There was something repressive and mysterious +about the man, and the girl would cut herself short in the middle +of a laugh if he happened to speak, and the softness of her mouth +would harden in an instant. He understood the significance of her +gladness, and of Porter's, for twice he saw their hands come +together, and their fingers entwine. And in their eyes was +something which they could not hide when they looked at each +other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know that Breault was +the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached from Athabasca +Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two thousand- +mile stretch of the Three River Country he was known as Shingoos, +the Ferret. + +The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her +father's shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a +blanket, and breathed deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and +looked wistfully at the pale face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a +bit proudly at McKay. + +"She's mine," he whispered. "We're going to be married." + +Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand. + +He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat. + +"I know how you feel," he said. "When I heard her calling out +there--it made me think--of a girl down south." + +"Down south?" queried Porter. "Why down south--if you care for +her--and you up here?" + +McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor +Porter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was +listening. + +Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the +storm had caught his attention. + +"We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm +going to dig out another room--for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll +need the convenience of a private room before we're able to move. +It's an easy job--and passes the time away." + +"I'll help," offered Porter. + +For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. +During that hour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile +curled his thin lips as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last +Porter turned in, and slept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched +himself. McKay had finished his room, and was beginning a tunnel +which would lead as a back door out of the drift, when Breault +came in and picked up the snowshoe which Porter had used. + +"I'll take my turn," he said. "I'm a bit nervous, and not at all +sleepy, Cummings." He began digging into the snow. "Been long in +this country?" he asked. + +"Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a +silver and a black." + +Breault grunted. + +"You must have met Cassidy, then," he said casually, without +looking at McKay. "Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country." + +Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging. + +"Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I +like him. You know him?" + +"Entered the service together," said Breault. "But he's unlucky. +For two or three years he has been on the trail of a man named +McKay. Jolly Roger, they call him--Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of +him?" + +Jolly Roger nodded. + +"Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've +heard I--rather like him." + +"Who--Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?" + +"Both." + +For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. +They were mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but +remaining half closed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie +behind them. McKay felt their penetration. It was like a cold +chill entering into him, warning him of a menace deadlier than the +storm. + +"Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have +you?" + +"No." + +"You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. +The man lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that +information, will you?" + +Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel. + +"Yes, I will." + +He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow +slits of Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox. + +"You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for +sticking up that free trader's post a few years ago." + +Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of +snow. + +"I'll tell him that, too," he said, chuckling at the obviousness +of the other's trap. "What do you think my cabin is, Breault--a +Rest for Homeless Outlaws?" + +Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger +caught it over his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his +load, Breault said: + +"You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the winter +somewhere up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south--" + +Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel. + +"--who would like to see him," finished Breault. + +When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting +his pipe. + +"I remember--Cassidy told me about this girl," said Jolly Roger. +"He said--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the +girl. So if I happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back +to the girl, it will help out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is +there any reward tacked to it? Anything in it for me?" + +Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, +puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile +about his thin lips. + +"Listen to the storm," he said. "I think it's getting worse-- +Cummings!" + +Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his +bright eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger. + +"Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--" + +Tight ringers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spoken +Peter's name since the rescue of Breault. + +"Peter--Peter--" + +The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made no +response to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and +challenging. In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his +arms. + +The Ferret laughed. + +"He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, +and I also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, +if you ever happen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, +with whiskers on him like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny +name for a dog, isn't it?" + +He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head. + +"I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And--Mother of +Heaven!--listen to the wind." + +"Yes, it's a bad night," said McKay. + +He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was +beating fast. He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over +the Barren more fiercely than before, and the sound of it brought +a steely glitter into his eyes. This time he could not run away +from the law. Flight meant death. And Breault knew it. He was in a +trap--a trap built by himself. That is, if Breault had guessed the +truth, and he believed he had. There was only one way out--and +that meant fight. + +He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not +look at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following +him. He left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after +he had spread out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very +quietly, he dug a hole through the snow partition between the two +rooms. He waited for ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip +through the last thin crust of snow. With his eye close to the +aperture he could see Breault. The Ferret was sitting up, and +leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an arm's length away. He +reached over, and touched him on the shoulder. + +Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears +to hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another +moment Porter was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his +arm warningly. Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter +was silent. Then Breault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly +Roger could hear only the indistinct monotone of his voice. But he +could see very clearly the change that came into Porter's face. +His eyes widened, and he stared toward the inner room, making a +movement as if to rouse Tavish and the girl. + +The Ferret stopped him. + +"Don't get excited. Let them sleep." + +McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the +two men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an +exultant satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in +Breault's. Jolly Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the +second lamp. Then he lightly plugged the hole in the partition +with snow, and reached out in the darkness until his hand found +Peter. + +"They think they've got us, boy," he whispered, "They think +they've got us!" + +Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter +was wide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his +hands and knees to the doorway and listened. One after another he +picked out the steady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began +feeling his way around the wall of his room until he came to a +place where the snow was very soft. + +"An air-drift," he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. +"We'll fool 'em, boy. And we'll fight--if we have to." + +He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air- +drift like a gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, +heaving his body up and down and sideways to pack the light snow, +leaving a round tunnel two feet in diameter behind him. Within an +hour he had come to the outer crust on the windward side of the +big snow-dune. He did not break through this crust, which was as +tough as crystal-glass, but lay quietly for a time and listened to +the sweep of the wind outside. It was warm, and very comfortable, +and he had half-dozed off before he caught himself back into +wakefulness and returned to his room. The mouth of his tunnel he +packed with snow. After that he wound the blanket about him and +gave himself up calmly to sleep. + +Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly +Roger in what would have been the early dawn outside the snow- +dune. McKay felt his restless movement, and opened his eyes. A +faint light was illumining his room, and he sat up. In the outer +room the alcohol lamp was burning again. He could hear movement, +and voices that were very low and indistinct. Carefully he dug out +once more the little hole in the snow wall, and widened the slit. + +Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and +close beside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and +fallen over her shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her +wide-open eyes as they stared at the door between the two rooms. +McKay could see her hand clasping Porter's arm. Porter was +talking, with his face so close to her bent head that his lips +touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger could understand no word +that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering the exciting secret +of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, for a moment, a +shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick, sibilant +whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a finger at +her lips, and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then his +fingers closed about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. +McKay watched the long kiss between them. The girl drew away +quickly then, and Porter tucked the blanket about her when she lay +down beside her father. After that he stretched out again beside +Breault. + +Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a +bit nervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the +alcohol lamp. And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to +tell her of the interesting discovery which Breault had made--and +to kiss her. McKay stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He +could no longer hear the storm, and he wondered if the fury of it +was spent. + +Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The +last time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, +Josephine Tavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay +watched her as she rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. +She bent over Porter and Breault to make sure they were asleep, +and then came straight toward the door of his room. + +He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped +closely about Peter. + +"Be quiet, boy," he whispered. "Be quiet." + +He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl +stood there, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and +before he closed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward +him. In a moment she was bending over him. He could feel the soft +caress of her loose hair on his face and hands. Then she knelt +quietly down beside him, stroking Peter with her hand, and shook +him lightly by the shoulder. + +"Jolly Roger!" she whispered. "Jolly Roger McKay!" + +He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom. + +"Yes," he replied softly. "What is it, Miss Tavish?" + +He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers +tightened at his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, +until her hair cluttered his throat and breast. + +"You are--awake?" + +"Yes." + +"Then--listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must get +away--somewhere. You must go before Breault awakens in the +morning. I think the storm is over--there is no wind--and if you +are here when day comes--" + +Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in the +darkness he found her hand. It clasped his own--firm, warm, +thrilling. + +"I thank you for what you have done," she whispered. "But the law +--and Breault--they have no mercy!" + +She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the +slit in the wall until she was with her father again. + +In the gloom he drew Peter close to him. + +"We're up against it again, Pied-Bot," he confided under his +breath. "We've got to take another chance." + +He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was +ready, and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the +outer room then, where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger +pantomimed his desire as she sat up. He wanted something from one +of the packs. She nodded. On his knees he fumbled in the dunnage, +and when he rose to his feet, facing the girl, her eyes opened +wide at what he held in his hand--a small packet of old newspapers +her father was taking to the factor at Fort Churchill. She saw the +hungry, apologetic look in his eyes, and her woman's heart +understood. She smiled gently at him, and her lips formed an +unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go. At the door he +looked back. He thought she was beautiful then, with her shining +hair and eyes, and her lips parted, and her hands half reaching +out to him, as if in that moment of parting she was giving him +courage and faith. Suddenly she pressed the palms of her fingers +to her mouth and sent the kiss of benediction to him through the +twilight glow of the snow-room. + +A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close +behind him, there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. +Again he was fleeing from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had +predicted in her sorcery, there were happiness and hope in his +going. And always there was someone to urge him on, and to take a +pride in him, like Josephine Tavish. + +He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and +crawled out into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The +sky was heavy overhead, and the wind had died out. It was the +beginning of the brief lull which came in the second day of the +Great Storm. + +McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them. + +"We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied- +Bot," he said. "We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles +south." + +He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling +straight away from the first hole he had cut through the shell of +the drift. From that door, made by the outlaw who had saved them, +Josephine Tavish watched the shadowy forms of man and dog until +they were lost in the gray-white chaos of a frozen world. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles +southward from the big dune on the Barren. For a day and a night +he made his camp in the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless +tundras reaching to the Arctic. He believed he was safe, for the +unceasing wind and the blasts of shot-like snow filled his tracks +a few moments after they were made. He struck a straight line for +his cabin after that first day and night in the scrub timber. The +storm was still a thing of terrific force out on the barren, but +in the timber he was fairly well sheltered. He was convinced the +police patrol would find his cabin very soon after the storm had +worn itself out. Porter and Tavish did not trouble him. But from +Breault he knew there was no getting away. Breault would nose out +his cabin. And for that reason he was determined to reach it +first. + +The second night he did not sleep. His mind was a wild thing--wild +as a Loup-Garou seeking out its ghostly trails; it passed beyond +his mastery, keeping sleep away from him though he was dead tired. +It carried him back over all the steps of his outlawry, visioning +for him the score of times he had escaped, as he was narrowly +escaping now; and it pictured for him, like a creature of +inquisition, the tightening net ahead of him, the final futility +of all his effort. And at last, as if moved by pity to ease his +suffering a little, it brought him back vividly to the green +valley, the flowers and the blue skies of Cragg's Ridge--and Nada. + +It was like a dream. At times he could scarcely assure himself +that he had actually lived those weeks and months of happiness +down on the edge of civilization; it seemed impossible that Nada +had come like an Angel into his life down there, and that she had +loved him, even when he confessed himself a fugitive from the law +and had entreated him to take her with him. He closed his eyes and +that last roaring night of storm at Cragg's Ridge was about him +again. He was in the little old Missioner's cabin, with thunder +and lightning rending earth and sky outside and Nada was in his +arms, her lips against his, the piteous heartbreak of despair in +her eyes. Then he saw her--a moment later--a crumpled heap down +beside the chair, the disheveled glory of her hair hiding her +white face from him as he hesitated for a single instant before +opening the door and plunging out into the night. + +With a cry he sprang up, dashing the vision from him, and threw +fresh fuel on the fire. And he cried out the same old thought to +Peter. + +"It would have been murder for us to bring her, Pied-Bot. It would +have been murder!" + +He looked about him at the swirling chaos outside the rim of light +made by his fire and listened to the moaning of the wind over the +treetops. Beyond the circle of light the dry snow, which crunched +like sand under his feet, was lost in ghostly gloom. It was forty +degrees below zero. And he was glad, even with this sickness of +despair in his heart, that she was not a fugitive with him +tonight. + +Yet he built up a little make-believe world for himself as he sat +with a blanket hugged close about him, staring into the fire. In a +hundred different ways he saw her face, a will-o-the-wisp thing +amid the flames; an illusive, very girlish, almost childish face-- +yet always with the light of a woman's soul shining in it. That +was the miracle which startled him at last. It seemed as if the +fiction he built up in his despair transformed itself subtly into +fact and that her soul had come to him from out of the southland +and was speaking to him with eyes which never changed or faltered +in their adoration, their faith and their courage. She seemed to +come to him, to creep into his arms under the folds of the blanket +and he sensed the soft crush of her hair, the touch of her lips, +the warm encircling of her arms about his neck. Closer to him +pressed the mystery, until the beating of her heart was a living +pulse against him; and then--suddenly, as an irresistible impulse +closed his arms to hold the spirit to him, his eyes were drawn to +the heart of the fire, and he saw there for an instant, wide-eyed +and speaking to him, the face of Yellow Bird the Indian sorceress. +The flames crept up the long braids of her hair, her lips moved, +and then she was gone--but slowly, like a ghost slipping upward +into the mist of smoke and night. + +Peter heard his master's cry. And after that Jolly Roger rose up +and threw off the blanket and walked back and forth until his feet +trod a path in the snow. He told himself it was madness to +believe, and yet he believed. Faith fought itself back into that +dark citadel of his heart from which for a time it had been +driven. New courage lighted up again the black chaos of his soul. +And at last he fell down on his knees and gripped Peter's shaggy +head between his two hands. + +"Pied-Bot, she said everything would come out right in the end," +he cried, a new note in his voice. "That's what Yellow Bird told +us, wasn't it? Mebby they would have burned her as a witch a long +time ago because she's a sorceress, and says she can send her soul +out of her body and see what we can't see. BUT WE BELIEVE!" His +voice choked up, and he laughed. "They were both here tonight," he +added. "Nada--and Yellow Bird. And I believe--I believe--I know +what it means!" + +He stood up again, and Peter saw the old smile on his master's +lips as Jolly Roger looked up into the swirling black canopy of +the spruce-tops. And the wailing of the storm seemed no longer to +hold menace and taunt, but in it he heard the whisper of fierce, +strong voices urging upon him the conviction that had already +swept indecision from his heart. + +And then he said, holding out his arms as if encompassing +something which he could not see. + +"Peter, we're going back to Nada!" + +Dawn was a scarcely perceptible thing when it came. Darkness +seemed to fade a little, that was all. Frosty shapes took form in +the gloom, and the spruce-tops became tangible in an abyss of +sepulchral shadow overhead. + +Through this beginning of the barren-land day Jolly Roger set out +in the direction of his cabin and in his blood was that new +singing thing of fire and warmth that more than made up for the +hours of sleep he had lost during the night. The storm was dying +out, he thought, and it was growing warmer; yet the wind whistled +and raved in the open spaces and his thermometer registered the +fortieth and a fraction degree below zero. The air he breathed was +softer, he fancied, yet it was still heavy with the stinging shot +of blizzard; and where yesterday he had seen only the smothering +chaos of twisted spruce and piled up snow, there was now--as the +pale day broadened--his old wonderland of savage beauty, awaiting +only a flash of sunlight to transform it into the pure glory of a +thing indescribable. But the sun did not come and Jolly Roger did +not miss it over-much for his heart was full of Nada, and a-thrill +with the inspiration of his home-going. + +"That's what it means, GOING HOME" he said to Peter, who nosed +close in the path of his snowshoes. "There's a thousand miles +between us and Cragg's Ridge, a thousand miles of snow and ice-- +and hell, mebby. But we'll make it!" + +He was sure of himself now. It was as if he had come up from out +of the shadow of a great sickness. He had been unwise. He had not +reasoned as a man should reason. The hangman might be waiting for +him at Cragg's Ridge, down on the rim of civilization, but that +same grim executioner was also pursuing close at his heels. He +would always be pursuing in the form of a Breault, a Cassidy, a +Tavish, or a Somebody Else of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. +It would be that way until the end came. And when the end did +come, when they finally got him, the blow would be easier at +Cragg's Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren Land. + +And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that +with Nada he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the +sorceress, had promised for them--that mystery-place of safety and +of happiness which she had called The Country Beyond, where "all +would end well." He had not the faith of Yellow Bird's people; he +was not superstitious enough to believe fully in her sorcery, +except that he seized upon it as a drowning man might grip at a +floating sea-weed. Yet was the under-current of hope so persistent +that at times it was near faith. Up to this hour Yellow Bird's +sorcery had brought him nothing but the truth. For him she had +conjured the spirits of her people, and these spirits, speaking +through Yellow Bird's lips, had saved him from Cassidy at the +fishing camp and had performed the miracle on the shore of +Wollaston and had predicted the salvation that had come to him out +on the Barren. And so--was it not conceivable that the other would +also come true? + +But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled +through the hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring +himself physically into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy +of her in his arms once more, the crush of her lips to his, the +caress of her hands in their old sweet way at his face--and to +hear her voice, the girl's voice with the woman's soul behind it, +crying out its undying love, as he had last heard it that night in +the Missioner's cabin many months ago. After this had happened, +then--if fate decreed it so--all other things might end. Breault, +the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or that Somebody Else who was +always on his trail. If the game finished thus, he would be +satisfied. + +When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat +Jolly Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter. + +"The big thing we must do is to get there--safely," he said, +already beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then +he went on, building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while +he crunched his luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There +was something joyous and definite in his voice which entered into +Peter's blood and body. There was even a note of excitement in it, +and Peter's whiskers bristled with fresh courage and his eyes +gleamed and his tail thumped the snow comprehendingly. It was like +having a master come back to him from the dead. + +And Jolly Roger even laughed, softly, under his breath. + +"This is February," he said. "We ought to make it late in March. I +mean Cragg's Ridge, Pied-Bot." + +After that they went on, traveling hard to reach their cabin +before the darkness of night, which would drop upon them like a +thick blanket at four o'clock. In these last hours there pressed +even more heavily upon Jolly Roger that growing realization of the +vastness and emptiness of the world. It was as if blindness had +dropped from his eyes and he saw the naked truth at last. Out of +this world everything had emptied itself until it held only Nada. +Only she counted. Only she held out her arms to him, entreating +him to keep for her that life in his body which meant so little in +all other ways. He thought of one of the little worn books which +he carried in his shoulder-pack--Jeanne D'Arc. As she had fought, +with the guidance of God, so he believed the blue-eyed girl down +at Cragg's Ridge was fighting for him, and had sent her spirit out +in quest of him. And he was going back to her. GOING! + +The last word, as it came from his lips, meant that nothing would +stop them. He almost shouted it. And Peter answered. + +In spite of their effort, darkness closed in on them. With the +first dusk of this night there came sudden lulls in which the +blizzard seemed to have exhausted itself. Jolly Roger read the +signs. By tomorrow there would be no storm and Breault the Ferret +would be on the trail again, along with Porter and Tavish. + +It was his old craft, his old cunning, that urged him to go on. +Strangely, he prayed for the blizzard not to give up the ghost. +Something must be accomplished before its fury was spent; and he +was glad when after each lull he heard again the moaning and +screeching of it over the open spaces, and the slashing together +of spruce tops where there was cover. In a chaos of gloom they +came to the low ridge which reached across an open sweep of tundra +to the finger of shelter where the cabin was built. An hour later +they were at its door. Jolly Roger opened it and staggered in. For +a space he stood leaning against the wall while his lungs drank in +the warmer air. The intake of his breath made a whistling sound +and he was surprised to find himself so near exhaustion. He heard +the thud of Peter's body as it collapsed to the floor. + +"Tired, Pied-Bot?" + +It was difficult for his storm-beaten lips to speak the words. + +Peter thumped his tail. The rat-tap-tap of it came in one of those +lulls of the storm which Jolly Roger had begun to dread. + +"I hope it keeps up another two hours," he said, wetting his lips +to take the stiffness out of them. "If it doesn't--" + +He was thinking of Breault as he drew off his mittens and fumbled +for a match. It was Breault he feared. The Ferret would find his +cabin and his trail if the storm died out too soon. + +He lighted the tin lamp on his table and after that, assured that +wastefulness would cost him nothing now, he set two bear-drip +candles going, one at each end of the cabin. The illumination +filled the single room. There was little for it to reveal--the +table he had made, a chair, a battered little sheet-iron stove, +and the humped up blanket in his bunk, under which he had stored +the remainder of his possessions. Back of the stove was a pile of +dry wood, and in another five minutes the roar of flames in the +chimney mingled with a fresh bluster of the wind outside. + +Defying the exhaustion of limbs and body, Jolly Roger kept +steadily at work. He threw off his heavier garments as the +freezing atmosphere of the room became warmer, and prepared for a +feast. + +"We'll call it Christmas, and have everything we've got, Pied-Bot. +We'll cook a quart of prunes instead of six. No use stinting +ourselves--tonight!" + +Even Peter was amazed at the prodigality of his master. An hour +later they ate, and McKay drank a quart of hot coffee before he +was done. Half of his fatigue was gone and he sat back for a few +minutes to finish off with the luxury of his pipe. Peter, gorged +with caribou meat, stretched himself out to sleep. But his eyes +did not close. His master puzzled him. For after a little Jolly +Roger put on his heavy coat and parkee and pocketed his pipe. +After that he slipped the straps of his pack over head and +shoulders and then, even more to Peter's bewilderment, emptied a +quart bottle of kerosene over the pile of dry wood behind the hot +stove. To this he touched a lighted match. His next movement drew +from Peter a startled yelp. With a single thrust of his foot he +sent the stove crashing into the middle of the floor. + +Half an hour later, when Peter and Jolly Roger looked back from +the crest of the ridge, a red pillar of flame lighted up the +gloomy chaos of the unpeopled world they were leaving behind them. +The wind was driving fiercely from the Barren and with it came +stinging volleys of the fine drift-snow. In the teeth of it Roger +McKay stared back. + +"It's a good fire," he mumbled in his hood. "Half an hour and it +will be out. There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind +keeps up another two hours--nothing but drift-snow, with no sign +of trail or cabin." + +He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge. Straight south he +went, keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift +covered his snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made. Darkness +did not trouble him now. The open barren was ahead, miles of it, +while only a little to the westward was the shelter of timber. +Twice he blundered to the edge of this timber, but quickly set his +course again in the open, with the wind always quartering at his +back. He could only guess how long he kept on. The time came when +he began to count the swing of his snowshoes, measuring off half a +mile, or a mile, and then beginning over again until at last the +achievement of five hundred steps seemed to take an immeasurable +length of time and great effort. Like the ache of a tooth came the +first warning of snowshoe cramp in his legs. In the black night he +grinned. He knew what it meant--a warning as deadly as swimmer's +cramp in deep water. If he continued much longer he would be +crawling on his hands and knees. + +Quickly he turned in the direction of the timber. He had traveled +three hours, he thought, since abandoning his cabin to the flames. +Another half hour, with the caution of slower, shorter steps, +brought him to the timber. Luck was with him and he cried aloud to +Peter as he felt himself in the darkness of a dense cover of +spruce and balsam. He freed himself from his entangled snowshoes +and went on deeper into the shelter. It became warmer and they +could feel no longer a breath of the wind. + +He unloaded his pack and drew from it a jackpine torch, dried in +his cabin and heavy with pitch. Shortly the flare of this torch +lighted up their refuge for a dozen paces about them. In the +illumination of it, moving it from place to place, he gathered dry +fire wood and with his axe cut down green spruce for the +smouldering back-fire that would last until morning. By the time +the torch had consumed itself the fire was burning, and where +Jolly Roger had scraped away the snow from the thick carpet of +spruce needles underfoot he piled a thick mass of balsam boughs, +and in the center of the bed he buried himself, wrapped warmly in +his blankets, and with Peter snuggled close at his side. + +Through dark hours the green spruce fire burned slowly and +steadily. For a long time there was wailing of wind out in the +open. But at last it died away, and utter stillness filled the +world. No life moved in these hours which followed the giving up +of the big storm's last gasping breath. Slowly the sky cleared. +Here and there a star burned through. But Jolly Roger and Peter, +deep in the sleep of exhaustion, knew nothing of the change. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was Peter who roused Jolly Roger many hours later; Peter nosing +about the still burning embers of the fire, and at last muzzling +his master's face with increasing anxiety. McKay sat up out of his +nest of balsam boughs and blankets and caught the bright glint of +sunlight through the treetops. He rubbed his eyes and stared again +to make sure. Then he looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock and +peering in the direction of the open he saw the white edge of it +glistening in the unclouded blaze of a sun. It was the first sun-- +the first real sun--he had seen for many days, and with Peter he +went to the rim of the barren a hundred yards distant. He wanted +to shout. As far as he could see the white plain was ablaze with +eye-blinding light, and never had the sky at Cragg's Ridge been +clearer than the sky that was over him now. + +He returned to the fire, singing. Back through the months leapt +Peter's memory to the time when his master had sung like that. It +was in Indian Tom's cabin, with Cragg's Ridge just beyond the +creek, and it was in those days before Terence Cassidy had come to +drive them to another hiding place; in the happy days of Nada's +visits and of their trysts under the Ridge, when even the little +gray mother mouse lived in a paradise with her nest of babies in +the box on their cabin shelf. He had almost forgotten but it came +back to him now. It was the old Jolly Roger--the old master come +to life again. + +In the clear stillness of the morning one might have heard that +shouting song half a mile away. But McKay was no longer afraid. As +the storm seemed to have cleaned the world so the sun cleared his +soul of its last shadow of doubt. It was not merely an omen or a +promise, but for him proclaimed a certainty. God was with him. +Life was with him. His world was opening its arms to him again-- +and he sang as if Nada was only a mile away from him instead of a +thousand. + +When he went on, after their breakfast, he laughed at the thought +of Breault discovering their trail. The Ferret would be more than +human to do that after what wind and storm and fire had done for +them. + +This first day of their pilgrimage into the southland was a day of +glory from its beginning until the setting of the sun. There was +no cloud in the sky. And it grew warmer, until Jolly Roger flung +back the hood of his parkee and turned up the fur of his cap. That +night a million stars lighted the heaven. + +After this first day and night nothing could break down the hope +and confidence of Jolly Roger and his, dog. Peter knew they were +going south, in which direction lay everything he had ever yearned +for; and each night beside their campfire McKay made a note with +pencil and paper and measured the distance they had come and the +distance they had yet to go. Hope in a little while became +certainty. Into his mind urged no thought of changes that might +have taken place at Cragg's Ridge; or, if the thought did come, it +caused him no uneasiness. Now that Jed Hawkins was dead Nada would +be with the little old Missioner in whose care he had left her, +and not for an instant did a doubt cloud the growing happiness of +his anticipations. Breault and the hunters of the law were the one +worry that lay ahead and behind him. If he outwitted them he would +find Nada waiting for him. + +Day after day they kept south and west until they struck the +Thelon; and then through a country unmapped, and at times terrific +in its cold and storm, they fought steadily to the frozen regions +of the Dubawnt waterways. Only once in the first three weeks did +they seek human company. This was at a small Indian camp where +Jolly Roger bartered for caribou meat and moccasins for Peter's +feet. Twice between there and God's Lake they stopped at trappers' +cabins. + +It was early in March when they struck the Lost Lake country, +three hundred miles from Cragg's Ridge. + +And here it was, buried under a blind of soft snow, that Peter +nosed out the frozen carcass of a disemboweled buck which Boileau, +the French trapper, had poisoned for wolves. Jolly Roger had built +a fire and was warming half a pint of deer tallow for a baking of +bannock, when Peter dragged himself in, his rear legs already +stiffening with the palsy of strychnine. In a dozen seconds McKay +had the warm tallow down Peter's throat, to the last drop of it; +and this he followed with another dose as quickly as he could heat +it, and in the end Peter gave up what he had eaten. + +Half an hour later Boileau, who was eating his dinner, jumped up +in wonderment when the door of his cabin was suddenly opened by a +grim and white-faced man who carried the limp body of a dog in his +arms. + +For a long time after this the shadow of death hung over the +Frenchman's trapping-shack. To Boileau, with his brotherly +sympathy and regret that his poison-bait had brought calamity, +Peter was "just dog." But when at last he saw the strong shoulders +of the grim-faced stranger shaking over Peter's paralyzed body and +listened to the sobbing grief that broke in passionate protest +from his white lips, he drew back a little awed. It seemed for a +time that Peter was dead; and in those moments Jolly Roger put his +arms about him and buried his despairing face in Peter's scraggly +neck, calling in a wild fit of anguish for him to come back, to +live, to open his eyes again. Boileau, crossing himself, felt of +Peter's body and McKay heard his voice over him, saying that the +dog was not dead, but that his heart was beating steadily and that +he thought the last stiffening blow of the poison was over. To +McKay it was like bringing the dead back to life. He raised his +head and drew away his arms and knelt beside the bunk stunned and +mutely hopeful while Boileau took his place and began dropping +warm condensed milk down Peter's throat. In a little while Peter's +eyes opened and he gave a great sigh. + +Boileau looked up and shrugged his shoulders. + +"That was a good breath, m'sieu," he said. "What is left of the +poison has done its worst. He will live." + +A bit stupidly McKay rose to his feet. He swayed a little, and for +the first time sensed the hot tears that had blinded his eyes and +wet his cheeks. And then there came a sobbing laugh out of his +throat and he went to the window of the Frenchman's shack and +stared out into the white world, seeing nothing. He had stood in +the presence of death many times before but never had that +presence choked up his heart as in this hour when the soul of +Peter, his comrade, had stood falteringly for a space half-way +between the living and the dead. + +When he turned from the window Boileau was covering Peter's body +with blankets and a warm bear skin. And for many days thereafter +Peter was nursed through the slow sickness which followed. + +An early spring came this year in the northland. South of the +Reindeer waterway country the snows were disappearing late in +March and ice was rotting the first week in April. Winds came from +the south and west and the sun was warmer and clearer than Boileau +had ever known it at the winter's end in Lost Lake country. It was +in this first week of April that Peter was able to travel, and +McKay pointed his trail once more for Cragg's Ridge + +He left a part of his winter dunnage at Boileau's shack and went +on light, figuring to reach Cragg's Ridge before the new "goose +moon" had worn itself out in the west. But for a week Peter lagged +and until the darker red in the rims of his eyes cleared away +Jolly Roger checked the impetus of his travel so that the goose +moon had faded out and the "frog moon" of May was in its full +before they came down the last slope that dipped from the Height +of Land to the forests and lakes of the lower country. + +And now, in these days, it seemed to Jolly Roger that a great +kindness, and not tragedy, had delayed him so that his "home +coming" was in the gladness of spring. All about him was the +sweetness and mystic whispering of new life just awakening. It was +in the sky and the sun; it was underfoot, in the fragrance of the +mold he trod upon, in the trees about him, and in the mate- +chirping of the birds flocking back from the southland. His +friends the jays were raucous and jaunty again, bullying and +bluffing in the warmth of sunshine; the black glint of crows' +wings flashed across the opens; the wood-sappers and pewees and +big-eyed moose-birds were aflutter with the excitement of home +planning; partridges were feasting on the swelling poplar buds-- +and then, one glorious sunset, he heard the chirruping evening +song of his first robin. + +And the next day they would reach Cragg's Ridge! + +Half of that last night he sat up, awake, or smoked in the glow of +his fire, waiting for the dawn. With the first lifting of darkness +he was traveling swiftly ahead of Peter and the morning was only +half gone when he saw far ahead of him the great ridge which shut +out Indian Tom's swamp, and Nada's plain, and Cragg's Ridge beyond +it. + +It was noon when he stood at the crest of this. He was breathing +hard, for to reach this last precious height from which he might +look upon the country of Nada's home he had half run up its rock- +strewn side. There, with his lungs gasping for air, his eager eyes +shot over the country below him and for a moment the significance +of the thing which he saw did not strike him. And then in another +instant it seemed that his heart choked up, like a fist suddenly +tightened, and stopped its beating. + +Reaching away from him, miles upon miles of it, east, west and +south--was a dead and char-stricken world. + +Up to the foot of the ridge itself had come the devastation of +flame, and where it had swept, months ago, there was now no sign +of the glorious spring that lay behind him. + +He looked for Indian Tom's swamp, and where it had been there was +no longer a swamp but a stricken chaos of ten thousand black +stubs, the shriven corpses of the spruce and cedar and jackpines +out of which the wolves had howled at night. + +He looked for the timber on Sucker Creek where the little old +Missioner's cabin lay, and where he had dreamed that Nada would be +waiting for him. And he saw no timber there but only the +littleness and emptiness of a blackened world. + +And then he looked to Cragg's Ridge, and along the bald crest of +it, naked as death, he saw blackened stubs pointing skyward, +painting desolation against the blue of the heaven beyond. + +A cry came from him, a cry of fear and of horror, for he was +looking upon the fulfilment of Yellow Bird's prediction. He seemed +to hear, whispering softly in his ears, the low, sweet voice of +the sorceress, as on the night when she had told him that if he +returned to Cragg's Ridge he would find a world that had turned +black with ruin and that it would not be there he would ever find +Nada. + +After that one sobbing cry he tore like a madman dawn into the +valley, traveling swiftly through the muck of fire and under-foot +tangle with Peter fighting behind him. Half an hour later he stood +where the Missioner's cabin had been and he found only a ruin of +ash and logs burned down to the earth. Where the trail had run +there was no longer a trail. A blight, grim and sickening, lay +upon the earth that had been paradise. + +Peter heard the choking sound in his master's throat and chest. +He, too, sensed the black shadow of tragedy and cautiously he +sniffed the air, knowing that at last they were home--and yet it +was not home. Instinctively he had faced Cragg's Ridge and Jolly +Roger, seeing the dog's stiffened body pointing toward the break +beyond which lay Nada's old home, felt a thrill of hope leap up +within him. Possibly the farther plain had escaped the scourge of +fire. If so, Nada would be there, and the Missioner-- + +He started for the break, a mile away. As he came nearer to it his +hope grew less for he could see where the flames had swept in an +inundating sea along Cragg's Ridge. They passed over the meadow +where the thick young jackpines, the red strawberries and the blue +violets had been and Peter heard the strange sob when they came to +the little hollow--the old trysting place where Nada had first +given herself into his master's arms. And there it was that Peter +forgot master and caution and sped swiftly ahead to the break that +cut the Ridge in twain. + +When Jolly Roger came to that break and ran through it he was +staggering from the mad effort he had made. And then, all at once, +the last of his wind came in a cry of gladness. He swayed against +a rock and stood there staring wild-eyed at what was before him. +The world was as black ahead of him as it was behind. But Jed +Hawkins' cabin was untouched! The fire had crept up to its very +door and there it had died. + +He went on the remaining hundred yards and before the closed door +of Nada's old home he found Peter standing stiff-legged and +strange. He opened the door and a damp chill touched his face. The +cabin was empty. And the gloom and desolation of a grave filled +the place. + +He stepped in, a moaning whisper of the truth coming to his lips. +He heard the scurrying flight of a starved wood-rat, a flutter of +loose papers, and then the silence of death fell about him. The +door of Nada's little room was open and he entered through it. The +bed was naked and there remained only the skeleton of things that +had been. + +He moved now like a man numbed by a strange sickness and Peter +followed gloomily and silently in the footsteps of his master. +They went outside and a distance away Jolly Roger saw a thing +rising up out of the char of fire, ugly and foreboding, like the +evil spirit of desolation itself. It was a rude cross made of +saplings, up which the flames had licked their way, searing it +grim and black. + +His hands clenched slowly for he knew that under the cross lay the +body of Jed Hawkins, the fiend who had destroyed his world. + +After that he re-entered the cabin and went into Nada's room, +closing the door behind him; and for many minutes thereafter Peter +remained outside guarding the outer door, and hearing no sound or +movement from within. + +When Jolly Roger came out his face was set and white, and he +looked where the thick forest had stood on that stormy night when +he ran down the trail toward Mooney's cabin. There was no forest +now. But he found the old tie-cutters' road, cluttered as it was +with the debris of fire, and he knew when he came to that twist in +the trail where long ago Jed Hawkins had lain dead on his back. +Half a mile beyond he came to the railroad. Here it was that the +fire had burned hottest, for as far as his vision went he could +see no sign of life or of forest green alight in the waning sun. + +And now there fell upon him, along with the desolation of despair, +a something grimmer and more terrible--a thing that was fear. +About him everywhere reached this graveyard of death, leaving no +spot untouched. Was it possible that Nada and the Missioner had +not escaped its fury? The fear settled upon him more heavily as +the sun went down and the gloom of evening came, bringing with it +an unpleasant chill and a cloying odor of things burned dead. + +He did not talk to Peter now. There was a lamp in the cabin and +wood behind the stove, and silently he built a fire and trimmed +and lighted the wick when darkness came. And Peter, as if hiding +from the ghosts of yesterday, slunk into a corner and lay there +unmoving and still. And McKay did not get supper nor did he smoke, +but after a long time he carried his blankets into Nada's room, +and spread them out upon her bed. Then he put out the light and +quietly laid himself down where through the nights of many a month +and year Nada had slept in the moon glow. + +The moon was there tonight. The faint glow of it rose in the east +and swiftly it climbed over the ragged shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, +flooding the blackened world with light and filling the room with +a soft and golden radiance. It was a moon undimmed, full and round +and yellow; and it seemed to smile in through the window as if +some living spirit in it had not yet missed Nada, and was +embracing her in its glory. And now it came upon Jolly Roger why +she had loved it even more than she had loved the sun; for through +the little window it shut out all the rest of the world, and +sitting up, he seemed to hear her heart beating at his side and +clearly he saw her face in the light of it and her slim arms out- +reaching, as if to gather it to her breast. Thus--many times, she +had told him--had she sat up in her bed to greet the moon and to +look for the smiling face that was almost always there, the face +of the Man in the Moon, her friend and playmate in the sky. + +For a space his heart leapt up; and then, as if discovery of the +usurper in her room had come, a cloud swept over the face of the +moon like a mighty hand and darkness crowded him in. But the cloud +sailed on and the light drove out the gloom again. Then it was +that Jolly Roger saw the Old Man in the Moon was up and awake +tonight, for never had he seen his face more clearly. Often had +Nada pointed it out to him in her adorable faith that the Old Man +loved her, telling him how this feature changed and that feature +changed, how sometimes the Old Man looked sick and at others well, +and how there were times when he smiled and was happy and other +times when he was sad and stern and sat there in his castle in the +sky sunk in a mysterious grief which she could not understand. + +"And always I can tell whether I'm going to be glad or sorry by +the look of the Man in the Moon," she had said to him. "He looks +down and tells me even when the clouds are thick and he can only +peep through now and then. And he knows a lot about you, Mister-- +Jolly Roger--because I've told him everything." + +Very quietly Jolly Roger got up from the bed and very strange +seemed his manner to Peter as he walked through the outer room and +into the night beyond. There he stood making no sound or movement, +like one of the lifeless stubs left by fire; and Peter looked up, +as his master was looking, trying to make out what it was he saw +in the sky. And nothing was there--nothing that he had not seen +many times before; a billion stars, and the moon riding King among +them all, and fleecy clouds as if made of web, and stillness, a +great stillness that was like sleep in the lap of the world. + +For a little Jolly Roger was silent and then Peter heard him +saying, + +"Yellow Bird was right--again. She said we'd find a black world +down here and we've found it. And we're going to find Nada where +she told us we'd find her, in that place she called The Country +Beyond--the country beyond the forests, beyond the tall trees and +the big swamps, beyond everything we've ever known of the wild and +open spaces; the country where God lives in churches on Sunday and +where people would laugh at some of our queer notions, Pied-Bot. +It's there we'll find Nada, driven out by the fire, and waiting +for us now in the settlements." + +He spoke with a strange and quiet conviction, the haggard look +dying out of his face as he stared up into the splendor of the +sky. + +And then he said. + +"We won't sleep tonight, Peter. We'll travel with the moon." + +Half an hour later, as the lonely figures of man and dog headed +for the first settlement a dozen miles away, there seemed to come +for an instant the flash of a satisfied smile in the face of the +Man in the sky. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +From the cabin McKay went first to the great rock that jutted from +the broken shoulder of Cragg's Ridge, and as they stood there +Peter heard the strange something that was like a laugh, and yet +was not a laugh, on his master's lips. But his scraggly face did +not look up. There was an answering whimper in his throat. He had +been slow in sensing the significance of the mysterious thing that +had changed his old home since months ago. During the hours of +afternoon, and these moonlit hours that followed, he tried to +understand. He knew this was home. Yet the green grass was gone, +and a million trees had changed into blackened stubs. The world +was no longer shut in by deep forests. And Cragg's Ridge was naked +where he and Nada had romped in sunshine and flowers, and out of +it all rose the mucky death-smell of the flame-swept earth. These +things he understood, in his dog way. But what he could not +understand clearly was why Nada was not in the cabin, and why they +did not find her, even though the world was changed. + +He sat back on his haunches, and Jolly Roger heard again the +whimpering grief in his throat. It comforted the man to know that +Peter remembered, and he was not alone in his desolation. Gently +he placed a soot-grimed hand on his comrade's head. + +"Peter, it was from this rock--right where we're standing now-- +that I first saw her, a long time ago," he said, a bit of forced +cheer breaking through the huskiness of his voice. "Remember the +little jackpine clump down there? You climbed up onto her lap, a +little know-nothing thing, and you pawed in her loose curls, and +growled so fiercely I could hear you. And when I made a noise, and +she looked up, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had +ever seen--just a kid, with those eyes like the flowers, and her +hair shining in the sun, an' tear stains on her cheeks. Tear +stains, Pied-Bot--because of that snake who's dead over there. +Remember how you growled at me, Peter?" + +Peter wriggled an answer. + +"That was the beginning," said Jolly Roger, "and this--looks like +the end. But--" + +He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the +grotesque movement of his shadow on the rock. + +"We're going to find her before that end comes," he added +defiantly. "We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us +to the settlements--right up into the face of the law." + +He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the +deadness of the world about them. Again he followed where once had +been the trail that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line +of rail that rambled for eighty miles into the wilderness from +Fort William. The P. D. & W. it was named--Port Arthur, Duluth & +Western; but it had never reached Duluth, and there were those who +had nicknamed it Poverty, Destruction & Want. Many times Jolly +Roger had laughed at the queer stories Nada told him about it; how +a wrecking outfit was always carried behind on the twice-a-week +train, and how the crew picked berries in season, and had their +trapping lines, and once chased a bear half way to Whitefish Lake +while the train waited for hours. She called it the "Cannon Ball," +because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine miles in twenty- +four hours. But there was nothing of humor about it as Jolly Roger +and Peter came out upon it tonight. It stretched out both ways +from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from +where they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal +sea. + +Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. +And the whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged +inside him, urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he +had often barked for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and +afterward. + +But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven +ties one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and +about them, and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky +over their heads, the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For +the silver and gold of the moon and the black muck of the fire +refused to mingle, and while over their heads they could see the +tiniest clouds and beyond to the farthest stars, all was black +emptiness when they looked about them upon what once had been a +living earth. Only the two lines of steel caught the moon-glow and +the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs that rose up out of the +earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against the sky. + +To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not +hear or smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed +watchfulness against impending evil. Under many moons he had +traveled with his master in their never-ending flight from the +law, and many other nights with neither moon nor stars had they +felt out their trails together. But always, under him and over him +on all sides of him, there had been LIFE. And tonight there was no +life, nor smell of life. There was no chirp of night bird, or +flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry of loon. He +listened in vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the whisper +of wind in treetops. And there was no smell--no musk of mink that +had crossed his path, no taste in the air of the strong scented +fox, no subtle breath of partridge and rabbit and fleshy +porcupine. And even from the far distances there came no sound, no +howl of wolf, no castanet clatter of stout moose horns against +bending saplings--not even the howl of a trapper's dog. + +The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as +if some fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's +feet. To McKay, sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came +understanding that brought with it an uneasiness which changed +swiftly into the chill of a growing fear. The utter lifelessness +told him how vast the destruction of the fire had been. Its +obliteration was so great no life had adventured back into the +desolated country, though the conflagration must have passed in +the preceding autumn, many months ago. The burned country was a +grave and the nearest edge of it, judged from the sepulchral +stillness of the night, was many miles away. + +For the first time came the horror of the thought that in such a +fire as this people must have died. It had swept upon them like a +tidal wave, galloping the forests with the speed of a race horse, +with only this thin line of rail leading to the freedom of life +outside. In places only a miracle could have made escape possible. +And here, where Nada had lived, with the pitch-wood forests +crowding close, the fire must have burned most fiercely. In this +moment, when fear of the unspeakable set his heart trembling, his +faith fastened itself grimly to the little old gray Missioner, +Father John, in whose cabin Nada had taken refuge many months ago, +when Jed Hawkins lay dead in the trail with his one-eyed face +turned up to the thunder and lightning in the sky. Father John, on +that stormy night when he fled north, had promised to care for +Nada, and in silence he breathed a prayer that the Missioner had +saved her from the red death that had swept like an avalanche upon +them. He told himself it must be so. He cried out the words aloud, +and Peter heard him, and followed closer, so that his head touched +his master's leg as he walked. + +But the fear was there. From a spark it grew into a red-hot spot +in Jolly Roger's heart. Twice in his own life he had raced against +death in a forest fire. But never had he seen a fire like this +must have been. All at once he seemed to hear the roar of it in +his ears, the rolling thunder of the earth as it twisted in the +cataclysm of flame, the hissing shriek of the flaming pitch-tops +as they leapt in lightning fires against the smoke-smothered sky. +A few hours ago he had stood where Father John's Cabin had been +and the place was a ruin of char and ash. If the fire had hemmed +them in and they had not escaped-- + +His voice cried out in sudden protest. + +"It can't be, Peter. It can't be! They made the rail--or the lake +--and we'll find them in the settlements. It couldn't happen. God +wouldn't let her die like that!" + +He stopped, and stared into the moon-broken gloom on his left. +Something was there, fifty feet away, that drew him down through +the muck which lay knee deep in the right-of-way ditch. It was +what was left of the cutter's cabin, a clutter of burned logs, a +wind scattered heap of ash. Even there, within arm's reach of the +railroad, there had been no salvation from the fire. + +He waded again through the muck of the ditch, and went on. +Mentally and physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving +to achieve possession of his brain. Over and over he repeated his +faith that Nada and the Missioner had escaped and he would find +them in the settlements. Less than ever he thought of the law in +these hours. What happened to himself was of small importance now, +if he could find Nada alive before the menace caught up with him +from behind, or ambushed him ahead. Yet the necessity of caution +impinged itself upon him even in the recklessness of his +determination to find her if he had to walk into the arms of the +law that was hunting him. + +For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed +to turn its face to look at them; and behind them, when they +looked back, the world was transformed into a black pit, while +ahead--with the glow of it streaming over their shoulders--ghostly +shapes took form, and vision reached farther. Twice they caught +the silvery gleam of lakes through the tree-stubs, and again they +walked with the rippling murmur of a stream that kept for a mile +within the sound of their ears. But even here, with water crying +out its invitation to life, there was no life. + +Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster +as he strained his eyes to see ahead. Somewhere near, within a +mile or two, was the first settlement with its sawmill and its +bunkhouses, its one store and its few cabins, with flat mountains +of sawdust on one side of it, and the evergreen forest creeping up +to its doors on the other. Surely they would find life here, where +there had been man power to hold fire back from the clearing. And +it was here he might find Nada and the Missioner, for more than +once Father John had preached to the red-cheeked women and +children and the clear-eyed men of the Finnish community that +thrived there. + +But as they drew nearer he listened in vain for the bark of a dog, +and his eyes quested as futilely for a point of light in the wide +canopy of gloom. At last, close together, they rounded a curve in +the road, and crossed a small bridge with a creek running below, +and McKay knew his arm should be able to send a stone to what he +was seeking ahead. And then, a minute later, he drew in a great +gasping breath of unbelief and horror. + +For the settlement was no longer in the clearing between him and +the rim-glow of the moon. No living tree raised its head against +the sky, no sign of cabin or mill shadowed the earth, and where +the store had been, and the little church with its white-painted +cross, was only a chaos of empty gloom. + +He went down, as he had gone to the tie cutter's cabin, and for +many minutes he stared and listened, while Peter seemed to stand +without breathing. Then making a wide megaphone of his hands, he +shouted. It was an alarming thing to do and Peter started as if +struck. For there were only ghosts to answer back and the +hollowness of a shriven pit for the cry to travel in. Nothing was +there. Even the great sawdust piles had shrunk into black scars +under the scourge of the fire. + +A groaning agony was in the breath of Jolly Roger's lips as he +went back to the railroad and hurried on Death must have come +here, death sudden and swift. And if it had fallen upon the +Finnish settlement, with its strong women and its stronger men, +what might it not have done in the cabin of the little old gray +Missioner--and Nada? + +For a long time after that he forgot Peter was with him. He forgot +everything but his desire to reach a living thing. At times, where +the road-bed was smooth, he almost ran, and at others he paused +for a little to gather his breath and listen. And it was Peter, in +one of these intervals, who caught the first message of life. From +a long distance away came faintly the barking of a dog. + +Half a mile farther on they came to a clearing where no stubs of +trees stood up like question marks against the sky, and in this +clearing was a cabin, a dark blotch that was without light or +sound. But from behind it the dog barked again, and Jolly Roger +made quickly toward it. Here there was no ash under his feet, and +he knew that at last he had found an oasis of life in the +desolation. Loudly he knocked with his fist at the cabin door and +soon there was a response inside, the heavy movement of a man's +body getting out of bed, and after that the questioning voice of a +woman. He knocked again and the flare of a lighted match illumined +the window. Then came the drawing of a bar at the door and a man +stood there in his night attire, a man with a heavy face and +bristling beard, and a lamp in his hand. + +"I beg your pardon for waking you," said Jolly Roger, "but I am +just down from the north, hoping to find my friends back here and +I have seen nothing but destruction and death. You are the first +living soul I have found to ask about them." + +"Where were they?" grunted the man. + +"At Cragg's Ridge." + +"Then God help them," came the woman's voice from back in the +room. + +"Cragg's Ridge," said the man, "was a burning hell in the middle +of the night." + +Jolly Roger's fingers dug into the wood at the edge of the door. + +"You mean--" + +"A lot of 'em died," said the man stolidly, as if eager to rid +himself of the one who had broken his sleep. "If it was Mooney, +he's dead. An' if it was Robson, or Jake the Swede, or the Adams +family--they're dead, too." + +"But it wasn't," said Jolly Roger, his heart choking between fear +and hope. "It was Father John, the Missioner, and Nada Hawkins, +who lived with him--or with her foster-mother in the Hawkins' +cabin." + +The man shook his head, and turned down the wick of his lamp. + +"I dunno about the girl, or the old witch who was her mother," he +said, "but the Missioner made it out safe, and went to the +settlements." + +"And no girl was with him?" + +"No, there was no girl," came the woman's voice again, and Peter +jerked up his ears at the creaking of a bed. "Father John stopped +here the second day after the fire had passed, and he said he was +gathering up the bones of the dead. Nada Hawkins wasn't with him, +and he didn't say who had died and who hadn't. But I think--" + +She stopped as the bearded man turned toward her. + +"You think what?" demanded Jolly Roger, stepping half into the +room. + +"I think," said the woman, "that she died along with the others. +Anyway, Jed Hawkins' witch-woman was burned trying to make for the +lake, and little of her was left." + +The man with the lamp made a movement as if to close the door. + +"That's all we know," he growled. + +"For God's sake--don't!" entreated Jolly Roger, barring the door +with his arm. "Surely there were some who escaped from Cragg's +Ridge and beyond!" + +"Mebby a half, mebby less," said the man. "I tell you it burned +like hell, and the worst of it came in the middle of the night +with a wind behind it that blew a hurricane. We've twenty acres +cleared here, with the cabin in the center of it, an' it singed my +beard and burned her hair and scorched our hands, and my pigs died +out there from the heat of it. Mebby it's a place to sleep in for +the night you want, stranger?" + +"No, I'm going on," said Jolly Roger, the blood in his veins +running with the chill of water. "How far before I come to the end +of fire?" + +"Ten miles on. It started this side of the next settlement." + +Jolly Roger drew back and the door closed, and standing on the +railroad once more he saw the light go out and after that the +occasional barking of the settler's dog grew fainter and fainter +behind them. + +He felt a great weariness in his bones and body now. With hope +struck down the exhaustion of two nights and a day without sleep +seized upon him and his feet plodded more and more slowly over the +uneven ties of the road. Even in his weariness he fought madly +against the thought that Nada was dead and he repeated the word +"impossible--impossible" so often that it ran in sing-song through +his brain. And he could not keep away from him the white, thin +face of the Missioner, who had promised on his faith In God to +care for Nada, and who had passed the settler's cabin ALONE. + +Another two hours they went on and then came the first of the +green timber. Under the shelter of some balsams Jolly Roger found +a resting place and there they waited for the break of dawn. Peter +stretched out and slept. But Jolly Roger sat with his head and +shoulders against the bole of a tree, and not until the light of +the moon was driven away by the darkness that preceded dawn by an +hour or two did his eyes close in restless slumber. He was roused +by the wakening twitter of birds and in the cold water of a creek +that ran near he bathed his face and hands. Peter wondered why +there was no fire and no breakfast this morning. + +The settlement was only a little way ahead and it was very early +when they reached it. People were still in their beds and out of +only one chimney was smoke rising into the clear calm of the +breaking day. From this cabin a young man came, and stood for a +moment after he had closed the door, yawning and stretching his +arms and looking up to see what sort of promise the sky held for +the day. After that he went to a stable of logs, and Jolly Roger +followed him there. + +He was unlike the bearded settler, and nodded with a youthful +smile of cheer. + +"Good morning," he said. "You're traveling early, and--" + +He looked more keenly as his eyes took in Jolly Roger's boots and +clothes, and the gray pallor in his face. + +"Just get in?" he asked kindly. "And--from the burnt country?" + +"Yes, from the burnt country. I've been away a long time, and I'm +trying to find out if my friends are among the living or the dead. +Did you ever hear of Father John, the Missioner at Cragg's Ridge?" + +The young man's face brightened. + +"I knew him," he said. "He helped me to bury my brother, three +years ago. And if it's him you seek, he is safe. He went up to +Fort William a week after the fire, and that was in September, +eight months past." + +"And was there with him a girl named Nada Hawkins?" asked Jolly +Roger, trying hard to speak calmly as he looked into the other's +face. + +The youth shook his head. + +"No, he was alone. He slept in my cabin overnight, and he said +nothing of a girl named Nada Hawkins." + +"Did he speak of others?" + +"He was very tired, and I think he was half dead with grief at +what had happened. He spoke no names that I remember." + +Then he saw the gray look in Jolly Roger's face grow deeper, and +saw the despair which could not hide itself in his eyes. + +"But there were a number of girls who passed here, alone or with +their friends," he said hopefully. "What sort of looking girl was +Nada Hawkins?" + +"A--kid. That's what I called her," said Jolly Roger, in a dead, +cold voice. "Eighteen, and beautiful, with blue eyes, and brown +hair that she couldn't keep from blowing in curls about her face. +So like an angel you wouldn't forget her if you'd seen her--just +once." + +Gently the youth placed a hand on Jolly Roger's arm. + +"She didn't come this way," he said, "but maybe you'll find her +somewhere else. Won't you have breakfast with me? I've a stranger +in the cabin, still sleeping, who's going into the fire country +from which you've come. He's hunting for some one, and maybe you +can give him information. He's going to Cragg's Ridge." + +"Cragg's Ridge!" exclaimed Jolly Roger. "What is his name?" + +"Breault," said the youth. "Sergeant Breault, of the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police." + +Jolly Roger turned to stroke the neck of a horse waiting for its +morning feed. But he felt nothing of the touch of flesh under his +hand. Cold as iron went his heart, and for half a minute he made +no answer. Then he said: + +"Thanks, friend. I breakfasted before it was light and I'm hitting +out into the brush west and north, for the Rainy River country. +Please don't tell this man Breault that you saw me, for he'll +think badly of me for not waiting to give him information he might +want. But--you understand--if you loved the brother who died--that +it's hard for me to talk with anyone just now." + +The young man's fingers touched his arm again. + +"I understand," he said, "and I hope to God you'll find her." + +Silently they shook hands, and Jolly Roger hurried away from the +cabin with the rising spiral of smoke. + +Three days later a man and a dog came from the burned country into +the town of Fort William, seeking for a wandering messenger of God +who called himself Father John, and a young and beautiful girl +whose name was Nada Hawkins. He stopped first at the old mission, +in whose shadow the Indians and traders of a century before had +bartered their wares, and Father Augustine, the aged patriarch who +talked with him, murmured as he went that he was a strange man, +and a sick one, with a little madness lurking in his eyes. + +And it was, in fact, a madness of despair eating out the life in +Jolly Roger's heart. For he no longer had hope Nada had escaped +the fire, even though at no place had he found a conclusive +evidence of her death. But that signified little, for there were +many of the missing who had not been found between the last of +September and these days of May. What he did find, with deadly +regularity, was the fact that Father John had escaped--and that he +had traveled to safety ALONE. + +And Father Augustine told him that when Father John stopped to +rest for a few days at the Mission he was heading north, for +somewhere on Pashkokogon Lake near the river Albany. + +There was little rest for Peter and his master at Fort William +town. That Breault must be close on their trail, and following it +with the merciless determination of the ferret from which he had +been named, there was no shadow of doubt in the mind of Jolly +Roger McKay. So after outfitting his pack at a little corner shop, +where Breault would be slow to enquire about him, he struck north +through the bush toward Dog Lake and the river of the same name. +Five or six days, he thought, would bring him to Father John and +the truth which he dreaded more and more to hear. + +The despondency of his master had sunk, in some mysterious way, +into the soul of Peter. Without the understanding of language he +sensed the oppressive gloom of tragedy behind and about him and +there was a wolfish slinking in the manner of his travel now, and +his confidence was going as he caught the disease of despair of +the man who traveled with him. But constantly and vigilantly his +eyes and scent were questing about them, suspicious of the very +winds that whispered in the treetops. And at night after they had +built their little cooking fire in the deepest heart of the bush +he would lie half awake during the hours of darkness, the +watchfulness of his senses never completely dulled in the stupor +of sleep. + +Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly +Roger's face had grown grayer and thinner. A number of times he +had tried to assure himself what he would do in that moment which +was coming when he would stand face to face with Breault the man- +hunter. His caution, after he left Fort William, was in a way an +automatic instinct that worked for self-preservation in face of +the fact that he was growing less and less concerned regarding +Breault's appearance. It was not in his desire to delay the end +much longer. The chase had been a long one, with its thrills and +its happiness at times, but now he was growing tired and with Nada +gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead. If she were dead he +wanted to go to her. That thought was a dawning pleasure in his +breast, and it was warm in his heart when he tied in a hard knot +the buckskin string which locked the flap of his pistol holster. +When Breault overtook him the law would know, because of the +significance of this knot, that he had welcomed the end of the +game. + +Never in the northland had there come a spring more beautiful than +this of the year in which McKay and his dog went through the deep +wilds to Pashkokogon Lake. In a few hours, it seemed, the last +chill died out of the air and there came the soft whispers of +those bridal-weeks between May and Summer, a month ahead of their +time. But Jolly Roger, for the first time in his life, failed to +respond to the wonder and beauty of the earth's rejoicing. The +first flowers did not fill him with the old joy. He no longer +stood up straight, with expanding chest, to drink in the rare +sweetness of air weighted with the tonic of balsams and cedar +spruce. Vainly he tried to lift up his soul with the song and +bustle of mating things. There was no longer music for him in the +flood-time rushing of spring waters. An utter loneliness filled +the cry of the loon. And all about him was a vast emptiness from +which the spirit of life had fled for him. + +Thus he came at last to a stream in the Burntwood country which +ran into Pashkokogon Lake; and it was this day, in the mellow +sunlight of late afternoon, that they heard coming to them from +out of the dense forest the chopping of an axe. + +Toward this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until +in a little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It +was a newly built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney. + +But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of +evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their +way and came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the +axe. It was then that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, +for the man was Father John the Missioner. + +In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little +gray man seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly +Roger had fled to the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as +if only half believing, a look of joy shining in his face as he +realized the truth of what had happened. "McKay," he cried, +reaching out his hands. "McKay, my boy!" + +A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the +change in Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its +mark upon it. + +They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and +answering with the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner +said: + +"You have heard? Someone has told you?" + +"No," said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. "No one has +told me," and he was thinking of Nada, and her death. + +Father John's fingers tightened. + +"It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about," he +spoke in a low voice. "Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!" + +Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him. + +"No, you didn't kill him," repeated Father John. "On that same +night of the storm when you thought you left him dead in the +trail, he stumbled back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance +came soon. + +"A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell +from a ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him +buried in sight of the cabin door--" + +But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the +Ferret and the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck +than he was of another thing. And Father John was saying in a +voice that seemed far away and unreal: + +"We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone +would find you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, +and each hour of the day the same prayer has been in her heart and +on her lips. And now--" + +Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin-- +someone, a girl, and she was singing, + +McKay's face went whiter than the gray ash of fire. + +"My God," he whispered huskily. "I thought--she had died!" + +It was only then Father John understood the meaning of what he had +seen in his face. + +"No, she is alive," he cried. "I sent her straight north through +the bush with an Indian the day after the fire. And later I left +word for you with the Fire Relief Committee at Fort Wiliam, where +I thought you would first enquire." + +"And it was there," said Jolly Roger, "that I did not enquire at +all!" + +In the edge of the clearing, close to the thicket of timber, Nada +had stopped. For across the open space a strange looking creature +had raced at the sound of her voice; a dog with bristling Airedale +whiskers, and a hound's legs, and wild-wolf's body hardened and +roughened by months of fighting in the wilderness. As in the days +of his puppyhood, Peter leapt up against her, and a cry burst from +Nada's lips, a wild and sobbing cry of PETER, PETER, PETER--and it +was this cry Jolly Roger heard as he tore away from Father John. + +On her knees, with her arms about Peter's shaggy head, Nada stared +wildly at the clump of timber, and in a moment she saw a man break +out of it, and stand still, as if the mellow sunlight blinded him, +and made him unable to move. And the same choking weakness was at +her own heart as she rose up from Peter, and reached out her arms +toward the gray figure in the edge of the wood, sobbing, trying to +speak and yet saying no word. + +And a little slower, because of his age, Father John came a moment +later, and peered out with the knowledge of long years from a +thicket of young banksians, and when he saw the two in the open, +close in each other's arms, and Peter hopping madly about them, he +drew out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and went back then for +the axe which he had dropped in the timber clump. + +There was a great drumming in Jolly Roger's head, and for a time +he failed even to hear Peter yelping at their side, for all the +world was drowned in those moments by the breaking sobs in Nada's +breath and the wild thrill of her body in his arms; and he saw +nothing but the upturned face, crushed close against his breast, +and the wide-open eyes, and the lips to kiss. And even Nada's face +he seemed to see through a silvery mist, and he felt her arms +strangely about his neck, as if it was all half like a dream--a +dream of the kind that had come to him beside his campfire. It was +a little cry from Nada that drove the unreality away. + +"Roger--you're--breaking me," she cried, gasping for her breath in +his arms, yet without giving up the clasp of her own arms about +his neck in the least; and at that he sensed the brutality of his +strength, and held her off a little, looking into her face. + +Pride and happiness and the courage in his heart would have slunk +away could he have seen himself then, as Father John saw him, +coming from the edge of the bush, and as Nada saw him, held there +at the end of his arms. Since the day he had come with Peter to +Cragg's Ridge the blade of a razor had not touched his face, and +his beard was like a brush, and with it his hair unkempt and +straggling; and his eyes were red from sleeplessness and the +haunting of that grim despair which had dogged his footsteps. + +But these things Nada did not see. Or, if she did, there must have +been something beautiful about them for her. For it was not a +little girl, but a woman who was standing there before Jolly Roger +now--Nada grown older, very much older it seemed to McKay, and +taller, with her hair no longer rioting free about her, but +gathered up in a wonderful way on the crown of her head. This +change McKay discovered as she stood there, and it swept upon him +all in a moment, and with it the prick of something swift and +terrorizing inside him. She was not the little girl of Cragg's +Ridge. She was a WOMAN. In a year had come this miracle of change, +and it frightened him, for such a creature as this that stood +before him now Jed Hawkins would never have dared to curse or +beat, and he--Roger McKay--was afraid to gather her back into his +arms again. + +And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her +shoulders, he saw that which had not changed--the wonder-light in +her eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other +day in Indian Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and +squeaked on the pantry shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay +with his broken leg in the going down of the sun. And as he +hesitated it was Nada herself who came into his arms, and laid her +head on his breast, and trembled and laughed and cried there, +while Father John came up and patted her shoulder, and smiled +happily at McKay, and then went on to the cabin in the clearing. +For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed his face in Nada's hair, +and neither said a word, but there was a strange throbbing of +their hearts together, and after a little Nada reached up a hand +to his cheek, and stroked it tenderly, bristly beard and all. + +"I'll never let you run away from me again--Mister--Jolly Roger," +she said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who +whispered the words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also +something very definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious +thrill of it as he raised his face from her hair, and saw once +more the sun-filled world about him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in +the cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical +happening, but more the mysterious FEEL of something impending and +very near. The day following their arrival in the Pashkokogon +country his master seemed to have forgotten him entirely. It was +Nada who noticed him, but even she was different; and Father John +went about, overseeing two Indians whom he kept very busy, his +pale, thin face luminous with an anticipation which roused Peter's +curiosity, and kept him watchful. He was puzzled, too, by the odd +actions of the humans about him. The second morning Nada remained +in her room, and Jolly Roger wandered off into the woods without +his breakfast, and Father John ate alone, smiling gently as he +looked at the tightly closed door of Nada's bedroom. Even +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the sleek-haired Indian woman who cared +for the house, was nervously expectant as she watched for Nada, +and Mistoos, her husband, grunted and grimaced as he carried in +from the edge of the forest many loads of soft evergreens on his +shoulders. + +Into the forest Jolly Roger went alone, puffing furiously at his +pipe. He was all a-tremble and his blood seemed to quiver and +dance as it ran through his veins. Since the first rose-flush of +dawn he had been awake, fighting against this upsetting of every +nerve that was in him. + +He felt pitiably weak and helpless. But it was the weakness and +helplessness of a happiness too vast for him to measure. It was +Nada in her ragged shoes and dress, with the haunting torture of +Jed Hawkins' brutality in her eyes and face, that he had expected +to find, if he found her at all; someone to fight for, and kill +for if necessary, someone his muscle and brawn would always +protect against evil. He had not dreamed that in these many months +with Father John she would change from "a little kid goin' on +eighteen" into--A WOMAN. + +He tried to recall just what he had said to her last night--that +he was still an outlaw, and would always be, no matter how well he +lived from this day on; and that she, now that she had Father +John's protection, was very foolish to care for him, or keep her +troth with him, and would be happier if she could forget what had +happened at Cragg's Ridge. + +"You're a WOMAN now," he said. "A WOMAN--" he had emphasized that +--"and you don't need me any more." + +And she had looked at him, without speaking, as if reading what +was inside him; and then, with a sudden little laugh, she swiftly +pulled her hair down about her shoulders, and repeated the very +words she had said to him a long time ago--"Without you--I'd want +to die--Mister--Jolly Roger," and with that she turned and ran +into the cabin, her hair flying riotously, and he had not seen her +again since that moment. + +Since then his heart had behaved like a thing with the fever, and +it was beating swiftly now as he looked at his watch and noted the +quick passing of time. + +Back in the cabin Peter was sniffing at the crack under Nada's +door, and listening to her movement. For a long time he had heard +her, but not once had she opened the door. And he wondered, after +that, why Oosimisk and her husband and Father John piled +evergreens all about, until the cabin looked like the little +jackpine trysting-place down at Cragg's Ridge, even to the soft +carpet of grass on the floor, and flowers scattered all about. + +Hopeless of understanding what it meant, he went outside, and +waited in the warm May-day sun until his master came back through +the clearing. What happened after that puzzled him greatly. When +he followed Jolly Roger into the cabin Mistoos and the Leaf Bud +were seated in chairs, their hands folded, and Father John stood +behind a small table on which lay an open book, and he was looking +at his watch when they came in. He nodded, and smiled, and very +clearly Peter saw his master gulp, as if swallowing something that +was in his throat. And the ruddiness had gone completely out of +his smooth-shaven cheeks. It was the first time Peter had seen his +master so clearly afraid, and from his burrow in the evergreens he +growled under his breath, eyeing the open door with sudden thought +of an enemy. + +And then Father John was tapping at Nada's door. + +He went back to the table and waited, and as the knob of the door +turned very slowly Jolly Roger swallowed again, and took a step +toward it. It opened, and Nada stood there. And Jolly Roger gave a +little cry, so low that Peter could just hear it, as he held out +his hands to her. + +For Nada was no longer the Nada who had come to him in Father +John's clearing. She was the Nada of Cragg's Ridge, the Nada of +that wild night of storm when he had fled into the north. Her hair +fell about her, as in the old days when Peter and she had played +together among the rocks and flowers, and her wedding dress was +faded and torn, for it was the dress she had worn that night of +despair when she sent her message to Peter's master, and on her +little feet were shoes broken and disfigured by her flight in +those last hours of her mighty effort to go with the man she +loved. In Father John's eyes, as she stood there, was a great +astonishment; but in Jolly Roger's there came such a joy that, in +answer to it, Nada went straight into his arms and held up her +lips to be kissed. + +Her cheeks were very pink when she stood beside McKay, with Father +John before them, the open book in his hands; and then, as her +long lashes drooped over her eyes, and her breath came a little +more quickly, she saw Peter staring at her questioningly, and made +a little motion to him with her hand. He went to her, and her +fingers touched his head as Father John began speaking. Peter +looked up, and listened, and was very quiet in these moments. +Jolly Roger was staring straight at the balsam-decked wall +opposite him, but there was something mighty strong and proud in +the way he held his head, and the fear had gone completely out of +his eyes. And Nada stood very close to him, so that her brown head +lightly touched his shoulder and he could see the silken shimmer +of loose tresses which with sweet intent she had let fall over his +arm. And her little fingers clung tightly to his thumb, as on that +blessed night when they had walked together across the plain below +Cragg's Ridge, with the moon lighting their way. + +Peter, in his dog way, fell a-wondering as he stood there, but +kept his manners and remained still. When it was all over he felt +a desire to show his teeth and growl, for when Father John had +kissed Nada, and was shaking Jolly Roger's hand, he saw his +mistress crying in that strange, silent way he had so often seen +her crying in his puppyhood days. Only now her blue eyes were wide +open as she looked at Jolly Roger, and her cheeks were flushed to +the pink of wild rose petals, and her lips were trembling a +little, and there was a tiny something pulsing in her soft white +throat. And all at once there came a smile with the tears, and +Jolly Roger--turning from Father John to find her thus--gathered +her close in his arms, and Peter wagged his tail and went out into +the sun-filled day, where he heard a red squirrel challenging him +from a stub in the edge of the clearing. + +A little later he saw Nada and his master come out of the cabin, +and walk hand in hand across the open into the sweet-smelling +timber where Father John had been chopping with his axe. + +On a fresh-cut log Nada sat down, and McKay sat beside her, still +holding her hand. Not once had he spoken in crossing the open, and +it seemed as though little devils were holding his lips closed +now. + +With her eyes looking down at the greening earth under their feet, +Nada said, very softly, + +"Mister--Jolly Roger--are you glad?" + +"Yes," he said. + +"Glad that I am--your wife?" + +The word drew a great, sobbing breath from him, and looking up +suddenly she saw that he was staring over the balsam-tops into the +wonderful blue of the sky. + +"Your WIFE," she whispered, touching his shoulder gently with her +lips. + +"Yes, I'm glad," he said. "So glad that I'm--afraid." + +"Then--if you are glad--please kiss me again." + +He stood up, and drew her to him, and held her face between his +hands as he kissed her red lips; and after that he kissed her +shining hair again and again, and when he let her go her eyes were +a glory of happiness. + +"And you will never run away from me again?" she demanded, holding +him at arm's length. "Never?" + +"Never!" + +"Then--I want nothing more in this life," she said, nestling +against him again. "Only you, for ever and ever." + +Jolly Roger made no answer, but held her a long time in his arms, +with the soft beating of her heart against him, and listened to +the twitter and song of nesting and mating things about them. In +this silence she lay content, until Peter--growing restless-- +started quietly into the golden depths of the forest. + +It was Pied-Bot's going, cautious and soft-footed, as if danger +and menace might lurk just ahead of him, that brought another look +into McKay's eyes as Nada's hand crept to his cheek, and rested +there. + +"You love me--very much?" + +"More than life," he answered, and as he spoke he was watching +Peter, questing the soft wind that came whispering from the south. + +Her finger touched his lips, gentle and sweet. + +"And wherever you go, I go--forever and always?" she questioned. + +"Yes, forever and always"--and his eyes were looking through miles +upon miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and +pitiless face of a man who was following his trail, Breault the +Ferret. + +His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face +against him. + +"And I pray God you will never be sorry," he said, still looking +through the miles of forest. + +"No, no--sorry I shall never be," she cried softly. "Not if we +fly, and go hungry, and fight--and die. Never shall I be sorry-- +with you," and he felt the tightening of her arms. + +And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety +smoothness of her hair, she told him what Father John had already +told him--of her wild effort to overtake him in that night of +storm when he had fled from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's +Ridge; and in turn he told her how Peter came to him in the break +of the morning with the treasure which had saved him heart and +soul, and how he had given that treasure into the keeping of +Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston. + +And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time +sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only +Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she +learned how it was that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in +childhood days, and how he came to be an outlaw for her in later +manhood. Her eyes were shining when he had finished, and her red +lips were a-tremble with the quickness of her breathing. + +"Some day--you'll take me there," she whispered. "Oh, I'm so proud +of you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day +--we'll go!" + +He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had +grown in his heart. + +"Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me +alive--" + +And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found +with Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston. + +And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon +when they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her +room. + +In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had +been preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear +again. + +And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of +her, for very completely she had transformed herself into a woman +again, from the softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her +head to the coquettish little slippers that set off her dainty +feet. And he saw the white gleam of soft shoulders and tender arms +where once had been rags and bruises, and held there by the slim +beauty and exquisite daintiness of her he stared like a fool, +until suddenly she laughed joyously at his amaze, and ran to him +with wide-open arms, and kissed him so soundly that Peter cocked +up his ears a bit startled. And then she kissed Father John, and +after that was mistress at the table, radiant in her triumph and +her eyes starry with happiness. + +And she was no longer shy in speaking his name, but called him +Roger boldly and many times, and twice during that meal of +marvelous forgetfulness--though long lashes covered her eyes when +she spoke it--she called him 'my husband.' + +In truth she was a woman and for the most part Roger McKay-- +fighting man and very strong though he was--looked at her in dumb +worship, speaking little, his heart a-throb, and his brain reeling +in the marvel of what at last had come into his possession. + +And yet, even in this hour of supreme happiness that held him half +mute, there was always lurking in the back of his brain a thought +of Breault, the Ferret. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the star dusk of evening the time came when he spoke his fears +to Father John. + +Nada had gone into her room, taking Peter with her, and out under +the cool of the skies Father John's pale face was turned up to the +unending glory of the firmament, and his lips were whispering a +prayer of gratitude and blessing, when Roger laid a hand gently on +his arm. + +"Father," he said, "it is a wonderful night." + +"A night of gladness and omen," replied Father John. "See the +stars! They seem to be alive and rejoicing, and it is not +sacrilege to believe they are, giving you their benediction." + +"And yet--I am afraid." + +"Afraid?" + +Father John looked into his eyes, and saw him staring off over the +forest-tops. + +"Yes--afraid for her." + +Briefly he told him of what had happened on the Barren months ago, +and how he had narrowly escaped Breault in coming away from the +burned country. + +"He is on my trail," he said, "and tonight he is not very far +away." + +The Missioner's hand rested in a comforting way on his arm. + +"You did not kill Jed Hawkins, my son, and for that we have +thanked God each day and night of our lives--Nada and I. And each +evening she has prayed for you, kneeling at my side, and through +every hour of the day I know she was praying for you in her heart +--and I believe in the answer to prayer such as that, Roger. Her +faith, now, is as deep as the sea. And you, too, must have faith." + +"She is more precious to me than life--a thousand lives, if I had +them," whispered Jolly Roger. "If anything should happen--now--" + +"Yes, if the thing you fear should happen, what then?" cried +Father John, faith ringing like a note of inspiration in his low +voice. "What, then, Roger? You did not kill Jed Hawkins. If the +law compels you to pay a price for the errors it believes you have +committed, will that price be so terribly severe?" + +"Prison, Father. Probably five years." + +Father John laughed softly, the star-glow revealing a radiance in +his face. + +"Five years!" he repeated. "Oh, my boy, my dear boy, what are five +years to pay for such a treasure as that which has come into your +possession tonight? Five short years--only five. And she waiting +for you, proud of you for those very achievements which sent you +to prison, planning for all the future that lies beyond those five +short years, growing sweeter and more beautiful for you as she +waits--Roger, is that a very great sacrifice? Is it too great a +price to pay? Five years, and after that--peace, love, happiness +for all time? Is it, Roger?" + +McKay felt his voice tremble as he tried to answer. + +"But she, father--" + +"Yes, yes, I know what you would say," interrupted Father John +gently. "I argued with her, just as you would have argued, Roger. +I appealed to her reason. I told her that if you returned it would +mean prison for you, and strangely I said that same thing--five +years. But I found her selfish, Roger, very selfish--and set upon +her desire beyond all reason. And it was she who asked first those +very questions I have asked you tonight. 'What are five years?' +she demanded of me, defying my logic. 'What are five years--or +ten--or twenty, IF I KNOW I AM TO HAVE HIM AFTER THAT?' Yes, she +was selfish, Roger. Just that great is her love for you." + +"Dear God in Heaven," breathed Jolly Roger, and stopped, his eyes +staring wide at the stars. + +"And after that, after I had given in to her selfishness, Roger, +she planned how we--she and I--would live very near to the place +where they imprisoned you, and how each day some sight or sign +should pass between you, and the baby--" + +"The baby, Father?" + +"Thus it seems she dreams, Roger. She, in the wilfulness of her +desire and selfishness--" + +With a choking cry Roger bowed his face in his hands. + +For a moment Father John was silent. And then he said, so very low +that it was almost a whisper, + +"I have passed many years in the wilderness, Roger, many years +trying to look into the hearts of people--and of God. And this-- +this love of Nada's--is the greatest of all the miracles I have +witnessed in a life that is now reaching to its three score and +five. Do you see the wonder of it, son? And does it make you +happy, and fearless now?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned slowly and went in the +direction of the cabin, leaving Roger alone under the thickening +stars. And McKay's face was like Father John's, filled with a +strange and wonderful radiance when he looked up. But with that +light of happiness was also the fiercer underglow of a great +determination. For Nada--for THE BABY--the worst should not +happen; he breathed the thought aloud, and in the words was a +prayer that God might help him, and make unnecessary the sacrifice +from which Father John had taken the sting of fear. And yet, if +that sacrifice came, he saw clearly now that it would not be a +great tragedy but only a brief shadow cast over the undying +happiness in his soul. For they--NADA AND THE BABY--would be +waiting--waiting-- + +Suddenly he was conscious of a sound very near, and he beheld +Nada, taller and slimmer and more beautiful than ever, it seemed +to him, in the starlight. + +"I have told him," Father John had whispered to her only a moment +before. "I have told him, so that he will not fear prison--either +for himself or for you." + +And she had come to him quietly, all of the pretty triumph and +playfulness gone, so that she stood like an angel in the soft glow +of the skies, much older than he had ever seen her before, and +smiled at him with a new and wonderful tenderness as she held out +her hands to him. + +Not until she lay in his arms, looking up at him from under her +long lashes, did he dare to speak. And then, + +"Is it true--what Father John has told me?" he asked. + +"It is true," she whispered, and the silken lashes covered her +eyes. + +Her hand crept up to his face in the silence that followed, and +rested there; and with no desire to hear more than the three words +she had spoken he crushed his lips in the sweet coils of her hair, +and together, in that peace ands understanding, they listened to +the gentle whisperings of the night. + +"Roger," she whispered at last. + +"Yes, my NEWA--" + +"What does that mean, Roger?" + +"It means--beloved--wife" + +"Then I like it. But I shall like the others--one of the others-- +best." + +"My--WIFE." + +"That--that makes me happiest, Roger. Your WIFE. Oh, it is the +sweetest word in the world, that--and--" + +He felt her warm face hide itself softly against his neck. + +"Mother," he added. + +"Yes--Mother," she repeated after him in an awed little voice. +"Oh, I have dreamed of Mothers since I have been old enough to +dream, Roger! My Mother--I never had one that I can remember, +except in a dream. It must be wonderful to--to--have a Mother, +Roger." + +"And yet, I think, not quite so wonderful as to BE a Mother, my +Nada." + +"Listen!" she whispered. + +"It is the Leaf Bud singing." + +"A love song?" + +"Yes, in Cree." + +She raised her head, so that her eyes were wide open, and looking +at him. + +"Since we came up here all this wonderful world has been promising +song for me, Roger. And since you came back to me it has been +singing--singing--singing--every hour of night and day. Have you +ever dreamed of leaving it, Roger--of going down into that world +of towns and cities of which Father John has told me so much?" + +"Would you like to go there, Nada?" + +"Only to look upon it, and come away. I want to live in the +forests, where I found you. Always and always, Roger." + +She raised herself on tip-toe, and kissed him. + +"I want to live near Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud--please--Mister +Jolly Roger--I do. And Father John will go with us. And we'll be +so happy there all together, Yellow Bird and Sun Cloud and Giselle +and I--oh!" + +His arms had tightened so suddenly that the little cry came from +her. + +"And yet--I may have to leave you for a little time, Nada. But it +will not be for long. What are five years, when all life reaches +out a paradise before us? They are nothing--nothing--and will pass +swiftly--" + +"Yes, they will pass swiftly," she said, so gently that scarce did +he hear. + +But on his breast she gave a little sob which would not choke +itself back, a sob which bravely she smiled through a moment +later, and which he--knowing that it was best--made as if he had +not heard. + +And so, this night, while Father John and Peter waited and watched +in the cabin, did they plan their future in the company of the +stars. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The Sabbath was a day of glory and peace in the Burntwood country. +The sun rose warm and golden, the birds were singing, and never +had the air seemed sweeter to Father John when he came out quietly +from the cabin and breathed it in the early break of dawn. Best of +all he loved this very beginning of day, before darkness was quite +gone, when the world seemed to be awakening mid sleepy whisperings +and sounds came clearly from a long distance. + +This morning he heard the barking of a dog, a mile away it must +have been, and Peter, who followed close beside him, pricked up +his ears at the sound of it. Father John had noted Peter's +vigilance, the cautious expectancy with which he was always +sniffing the air, and the keen alertness of his eyes and ears. +McKay had explained the reason for it. And this morning, as they +made their way down to the pool at the creekside, Peter's +ceaseless watching for danger held a deeper significance for +Father John. All through the night, in spite of his faith and his +words of consolation, he was thinking of the menace which was +following McKay, and which eventually must catch up with him. + +And yet, how short a time was five years! Looking backward, each +five years of his life seemed but a yesterday. It was eight times +five years ago that a sweet-faced girl had first filled his life, +as Nada filled Jolly Roger's now, and through the thirty years +since he had lost her he could still hear her voice as clearly as +though he had held her in his arms only a few hours ago, so swift +had been the passing of time. But looking ahead, and not backward, +five years seemed an eternity of time, and the dread of it was in +Father John's heart as he stood at the side of the pool, with the +first pink glow of sunrise coming to him over the forest-tops. + +Five years, and he was an old man now. A long and dreary wait it +would be for him. But for youth, the glorious youth of Roger and +Nada, it would seem very short when in later years they looked +back upon it. And for a time as he contemplated the long span of +life that lay behind him, and the briefness of that which lay +ahead, a yearning selfishness possessed the soul of Father John, +an almost savage desire to hold those five years away from the +violation of the law--not alone for Nada's sake and Roger McKay's +--but for his own. In this twilight of a tragic life a great +happiness had come to him in the love of these two, and thought of +its menace, its desecration by a pitiless and mistaken justice, +roused in him something that was more like the soul of a fighting +man than the spirit of a missioner of God. + +Vainly he tried to stamp out the evil of this resentment, for evil +he believed it to be. And shame possessed him when he saw the +sweet glory in Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness +that was in Roger McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, +and the hidden fear which he could not vanquish. + +And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, +being Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and +he preached to them in the little mission house which they had +helped him to build of logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in +Cree, and partly in English, and his message was one of hope and +inspiration, pointing out the silver linings that always lay +beyond the darkness of clouds. To McKay, holding Nada's hand in +his own as they listened, Father John's words brought a great and +comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and voice as she led in Cree +the song, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," he heard and saw the living +fire of that faith, and had Breault come in through the open +doorway then he would have accepted him calmly as the beginning of +that sacrifice which he had made up his mind to make. + +In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John +heard again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of +questions about her, and for the first time the Missioner learned +of the inspiration which the Indian woman's sorcery had been to +Jolly Roger. + +"It was foolish," McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and +faith which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. "But--it helped me." + +"It wasn't foolish," replied Nada quickly. "Yellow Bird DID come +to me. And--SHE KNEW." + +"No true faith is folly," said Father John, in his soft, low +voice. "The great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was +inspired by a great confidence, and confidence and faith give to +the mind a power which it is utterly incapable of possessing +without them. I believe in the mind, children. I believe that in +some day to come it will reach those heights where it will unlock +the mystery of life itself to us. I have seen many strange things +in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, and not the least of +these have been the achievements of the primitive mind. And it +seems to me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that has come +true. And has it occurred to you--" + +He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear +in his heart was driving him to say these things. + +"What, father," questioned Nada, bending toward him. + +"I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost +childish curiosity, and you will laugh at me, my dear. I am +wondering if it has occurred to Roger the mysterious 'Country +Beyond' of which Yellow Bird dreamed might be the great country +down there--south--BEYOND THE BORDER--the United States?" + +Something which he could not control seemed to drive the words +from his lips, and in an instant he saw that Nada had seized upon +their significance. Her eyes widened. The blue in them grew +darker, and Roger observed her fingers grip suddenly in the +softness of her dress as she turned from Father John to look at +him. + +"Or--it might be China, or Africa, or the South Seas," he tried to +laugh, remembering his old visions. "It might be--anywhere." + +Nada's lips trembled, as if she were about to speak; and then very +quietly she sat, with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and +Father John knew she was not expressing the thought in her heart +when she said, + +"Someday I want to tell Yellow Bird how much I love her." + +Now in these hours since he and his master had come to the +Burntwood it seemed to Peter that he had lost something very +great, for in his happiness McKay had taken but scant notice of +him, and Nada seemed to have found a greater joy than that which a +long time ago she had found in his comradeship. So now, as she saw +him lying in his loneliness a short distance away, Nada suddenly +ran to him, and together they went into the thick screen of the +balsams, Peter yipping joyously, and Nada without so much as +turning her head in the direction of Roger and Father John. But +even in that bird-like swiftness with which she had left them, +Father John had caught the look in her eyes. + +"I have made a mistake," he confessed humbly. "I have sinned, +because in her I have roused the temptation to urge you to fly +away with her--down there--south. She is a woman, and being a +woman she has infinite faith in Yellow Bird, for Yellow Bird +helped to give you to her. She believes--" + +"And I--I--also believe," said McKay, staring at the green +balsams. + +"And yet--it is better for you to remain. God means that judgment +and happiness should come in their turn." + +Jolly Roger rose to his feet, facing the south. + +"It is a temptation, father. It would be hard to give her up--now. +If Breault would only wait a little while. But if he comes--NOW--" + +He walked away slowly, following through the balsams where Nada +and Peter had gone. Father John watched him go, and a trembling +smile came to his lips when he was alone. In his heart he knew he +was a coward, and that these young people had been stronger than +he. For in their happiness and the faith which he had falsely +built up in them they had resigned themselves to the inevitable, +while he, in these moments of cowardice, had shown them the way to +temptation. And yet as he stood there, looking in the direction +they had gone, he felt no remorse because of what he had done, and +a weight seemed to have lifted itself from his shoulders. + +For a time the more selfish instincts of the man rose in him, +fighting down the sacrificial humility of the great faith of which +he was a messenger. The new sensation thrilled him, and in its +thrill he felt his heart beating a little faster, and hope rising +in him. Five years were a long time--FOR HIM. That was the thought +which kept repeating itself over and over in his brain, and with +it came that other thought, that self-preservation was the first +law of existence, and therefore could not be a sin. Thus did +Father John turn traitor to his spoken words, though his calm and +smiling face gave no betrayal of it when Nada and Roger returned +to the cabin an hour later, their arms filled with red bakneesh +vines and early wildflowers. + +Nada's cheeks were as pink as the bakneesh, and her eyes as blue +as the rock-violets she wore on her breast. + +And Father John knew that Jolly Roger was no longer oppressed by +the fear of a menace which he was helpless to oppose, for there +was something very confident in the look of his eyes and the +manner in which they rested upon Nada + +Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early +evening. He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada +again, hugging his shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him +in the old, excited way. And strange memory of a bundle came back +to Peter, for very quietly, as if unseen ears might be listening +to her, Nada gathered many things in a pile on the table, and made +another bundle. This bundle she thrust under her bed, just as a +long time ago she had thrust a similar bundle under a banksian +clump in the meadowland below Cragg's Ridge. + +Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of +Breault. The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, +and Breault would surely go there before questing from cabin to +cabin for his victim. + +So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making +a sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, +saying he had business at the post that day, and without wakening +them had made an early start. This note Nada read to McKay when +they sat at breakfast. + +"Quite frequently he has gone like that," Nada explained. "He +loves the forests at night--in the light of the moon." + +"But last night there was no moon," said Roger. + +"Yes--" + +"And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it +was very dark." + +"You heard him go?" + +"Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he +wrote that note in the candle-glow." + +"Roger, what do you mean?" + +McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed +her shining hair and questioning eyes. + +"It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to +the post to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in +his heart he wants us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. +For he is sure that he knows what Yellow Bird meant by 'The +Country Beyond.' It is the great big world outside the forests. a +world so big that if need be we can put ourselves ten thousand +miles away from the trails of the mounted police. That is the +thought which is urging him to the post to look for Breault." + +Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling +with eagerness she said, + +"Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night--and it is +under the bed." + +He held her more closely. + +"And you are willing to go with me--anywhere?" + +"Yes, anywhere." + +"To the end of the earth?" + +Her crumpled head nodded against his breast. + +"And leave Father John?" + +"Yes, for you. But I think--sometime--he will come to us." + +Her fingers touched his cheek. + +"And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other +part of the world, Roger" + +"Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us," he +laughed happily. + +"I'd love the desert, Roger." + +"Or an uninhabited island?" + +Against him her head nodded again. + +"I'd love life anywhere--WITH YOU." + +"Then--we'll go," he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of +the joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, +steadying his voice until it was almost cold. "But it means giving +up everything you've dreamed of, Nada--these forests you love, +Father John, Yellow Bird, Sun Cloud--" + +"I have only one dream," she interrupted him softly. + +"And five years will pass very quickly," he continued. "Possibly +it will not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love +will be free to us forever. Gladly will I remain and take my +punishment if in the end it will make us happier, Nada" + +"I have only one dream," she repeated, caressing his cheek with +her hand, "and that is you, Roger. Where-ever you take me I shall +be the happiest woman in the world." + +"WOMAN," he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud. + +"Yes, I am a woman--now" + +"And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg's Ridge," he +cried with sudden passion, crushing her close to him. "I'd lose my +life sooner than I would lose her, Nada--the little girl with +flying hair and strawberry stain on her nose, and who believed so +faithfully in the Man in the Moon. Always I shall worship her as +the little goddess who came down to me from somewhere in heaven!" + +Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John's return, +he saw more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown +the glory of Nada's wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at +the miracle of it. There was something vastly sweet in the change +of her. She was no longer the utterly dependent little thing, +possibly caring for him because he was big and strong and able to +protect her; she was a woman, and loved him as a woman, and not +because of fear or helplessness. And then came the thrilling +mystery of another thing. He found himself, in turn, beginning to +depend upon her, and in their planning her calm decision and quiet +reasoning strengthened him with new confidence and made his heart +sing with gladness. With his eyes on the smooth and velvety coils +of hair which she had twisted woman-like on her head, he said, + +"With your hair like that you are my Margaret of Anjou, and the +other way--with it down you are my little Nada of Cragg's Ridge. +And I--I don't quite understand why God should be so good to me." + +And this day Peter was trying in his dumb way to analyze the +change. The touch of Nada's hand thrilled him, as it did a long +time ago, and still he sensed the difference. Her voice was even +softer when she put her cheek down to his whiskered face and +talked to him, but in it he missed that which he could not quite +bring back clearly through the lapse of time--the childish +comradeship of her. Yet he began to worship her anew, even more +fiercely than he had loved the Nada of old. He was content now to +lie with his nose touching her foot or dress; but when in the +sunset of early evening she went into her room, and came out a +little later with her curling hair clouding her shoulders and +breast, and tied with a faded ribbon she had brought from Cragg's +Ridge, he danced about her, yelping joyously, and she accepted the +challenge in a wild race with him to the edge of the clearing. + +Panting and flushed she ran back to Jolly Roger, and rested in his +arms. + +And it was McKay, with his face half hidden in her riotous hair, +who saw a figure come suddenly out of the forest at the far end of +the clearing. It was Father John. He saw him pause for an instant, +and then stagger toward them, swaying as if about to fall. + +The sudden stopping of his breath--the tightening of his arms-- +drew Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the +little old Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the +clearing. With a cry she was out of McKay's arms and running +toward him. + +Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His +face was tense and his breath came in choking gasps. But he tried +to smile as he clutched a hand at his breast. + +"I have hurried," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, +"and I am--winded--" + +He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger. + +"Roger--I have hurried to tell you--Breault is coming. He cannot +be far behind me. Possibly half a mile, or a mile--" + +In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his +hands. + +"I find--at last--that I was mistaken, child," he said, very +calmly now. "I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be +taken by Breault. You must go. There is no time to lose. If +Breault does not stumble off the trail in this gloom he will be +here in a few minutes. Come." + +Not a word did Nada say as they went to the cabin, and McKay saw +her tense face as pale as an ivory cameo in the twilight. But +something in the up-tilt of her chin and the poise of her head +assured him she was prepared, and unafraid. + +In the cabin the Leaf Bud met them, and to her Nada spoke quickly. +There was understanding between them, and Oosimisk dragged in a +filled pack from the kitchen while Nada ran into her room and came +out with the bundle. + +Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast +throbbing with excitement. + +"There is nothing more to make ready," she said. "Yellow Bird has +been with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare. We +have everything we need." + +And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about +his neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face. + +"Father, you will come to us?" she whispered. "You promise that?" + +The Missioner's arms closed about her, and he bowed his face +against her lips and cheek. + +"I pray God that it may be so," he said. + +Nada's arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came +a warning growl from outside the cabin door. + +"Peter!" she cried. + +In another moment Father John had extinguished the light. + +"Go, my children," he commanded. "You must be quick. Twenty paces +below the pool is a canoe. I had one of my Indians leave it there +yesterday, and it is ready. Roger--Nada--" + +He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness. + +"God bless you--both! And go south--always south. Now go--go! I +think I hear footsteps--" + +He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with +his pack. Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he +fastened his fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back. + +"Good-bye," he whispered huskily. "Good-bye--Nada--Roger--" + +A sob came back out of the gloom. + +"Good-bye, father." + +And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift +footsteps of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing. + +Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him +as he closed the door. + +"It's best for you to stay, Peter," he tried to explain. "It's +best for you to stay--with me. For I think they are going a far +distance, and will come to a land where you would shrivel up and +die. Besides, you could not go in the canoe. So be good, and +remain with me, Peter--with me--" + +And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a +strange little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in +darkness for a light. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a +match and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John's waxen +face grew out of the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and +scratched with, his paws at the closed door. + +Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark +eyes staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe. + +In the old Missioner's face came a trembling smile and a look of +triumph as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze + +"All is well, Oosimisk," he said quietly, speaking in Cree. "They +are safely away, and will not be caught. Continue with your duties +and let no one see that anything unusual has happened. Breault +will come very soon." + +He straightened his shoulders, as if to give himself confidence +and strength, and then he called Peter, and comforted the dog +whose master and mistress were fleeing through the dark. + +"They have reached the pool," he said, seating himself and holding +Peter's shaggy head between his hands. "They have just about +reached the pool, and Breault must be entering the clearing on the +other side. Roger cannot miss the canoe--twenty paces down and +with nothing to shadow it overhead; I think he has found it by +this time, and in another half minute they will be off. And it is +very black down the Burntwood, with deep timber close to the +water, and for many miles no man can follow by night along its +shores. "Suddenly his hands tightened, and the Leaf Bud, watching +him slyly, saw the last of suspense go out of his face. "And now-- +they are safe," he cried exultantly. "They must be on their way-- +and Breault has not come across the clearing!" + +He rose to his feet, and began pacing back and forth, while Peter +sniffed yearningly at the door again. Oosimisk, with the caution +of her race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the +windows, and Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want +Breault, the man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at +him. Even as he walked back and forth he listened intently for +Breault's footsteps. Peter, with a sigh, gave up his scratching +and settled himself on his haunches close to Nada's door. + +Father John, in passing him, paused to lay a hand on his head. + +"Some day it may please God to let us go to them," he consoled, +speaking for himself even more than for Peter. "Some day, when +they are far away--and safe." + +He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf +Bud came a low, swift word of warning. + +She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean +rattled under her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing +even as the cabin door opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in +it. + +The unexpectedness of his appearance, without the sound of a +warning footstep outside, was amazing even to Peter. In the open +door he stood for a moment, his thin, ferret-like face standing +out against the black background of the night, and his strange +eyes, apparently half closed yet bright as diamonds, sweeping the +interior without effort but with the quickness of lightning. + +There was something deadly and foreboding about him as he stood +here, and Peter growled low in his throat. Recognition flashed +upon him in an instant. It was the man of the snow-dune, away up +on the Barren, the man whom he had mistrusted from the beginning, +and from whom they had fled into the face of the Big Storm months +ago. His mind worked swiftly, even as swiftly as Breault's in its +way, and without any process of reasoning he sensed menace and +enmity in this man's appearance, and associated with it the +mysterious flight of Jolly Roger and Nada. + +Breault had nodded, without speaking. Then his eyes rested on +Peter, and his face broke into a twisted sort of smile. It was not +altogether unpleasant, yet was there something about it which made +one shiver. It spoke the character of the man, pitiless, +determined, omniscient almost, as if the spirit of a grim and +unrelenting fate walked with him. + +Again he nodded, and held out a hand. + +"Peter," he called. "Come here, Peter!" + +Peter flattened his ears a fraction of an inch, but did not move. +Even that fraction of an inch caught Breault's keen eyes. + +"Still a one-man dog," he observed, stepping well inside the +cabin, and facing Father John. "Where is McKay, Father?" + +He had not closed the door, and Peter saw his chance. The Leaf Bud +saw him pass like a shot out into the night, but as he went she +made no effort to call him back, for her ears were wide open as +Breault repeated his question, + +"Where is McKay, Father?" + +Peter heard the man-hunter's voice from the darkness outside. For +barely an instant he paused, picking up the fresh scent of Nada +and Jolly Roger. It was easy to follow--straight to the pool, and +from the pool twenty paces down-stream, where a little finger of +sand and pebbles had been formed by the eddies. In this bar was +fresh imprint of the canoe, and here the footprints ended. + +Peter whimpered, peering into the tunnel of darkness between +forest trees, where the water rippled and gurgled softly on its +way into a deeper and more tangled wilderness. He waded belly-deep +into the current, half determined to swim; and then he waited, +listening intently, but could hear no sound of voice or paddle +stroke. + +Yet he knew Jolly Roger and Nada could not be far away. + +He returned to the edge of the pool, and began sniffing his way +down-stream, pausing every two or three minutes to listen. Now and +then he caught the presence of those he sought, in the air, but +those intervals in which he stopped to catch sound of voice or +paddle lost him time, so the canoe was traveling faster than +Peter. + +Half way between himself and the bow of that canoe McKay could +dimly make out Nada's pale face in the star glow that filtered +like a mist through the tops of the close-hanging trees. + +Scarcely above his breath he laughed in joyous confidence. + +"At last my dream is coming true, Nada," he whispered. "You are +mine. And we are going into another world. And no one will ever +find us there--no one but Father John, when we send him word. You +are not afraid?" + +Her voice trembled a little in the gloom. + +"No, I am not afraid. But it is dark--so dark--" + +"The moon will be with us again in a few nights--your moon, with +the Old Man smiling down on us. I know how the Man in the Moon +must feel when he's on the other side of the world, and can't see +you, Nada." + +Her silence made him lean toward her, striving to get a better +view of her face where the starlight broke through an opening in +the tree-tops. + +And in that moment he heard a little breath that was almost a sob. + +"It's Peter," she said, before he could speak. "Oh, Roger, why +didn't we bring Peter?" + +"Possibly--we should have," he replied, skipping a stroke with his +paddle. "But I think we have done the best thing for Peter. He is +a wilderness dog, and has never known anything different. Over +there, where we are going--" + +"I understand. And some day, Father John will bring him?" + +"Yes. He has promised that. Peter will come to us when Father John +comes." + +She had turned, looking into the pit-gloom ahead of them, so dark +that the canoe seemed about to drive against a wall. Under its bow +the water gurgled like oil. + +"We are entering the big cedar swamp," he explained. "It is like +Blind Man's Buff, isn't it? Can you see?" + +"Not beyond the bow of the canoe, Roger." + +"Work back to me," he said, "very carefully." + +She came, obediently. + +"Now turn slowly, so that you face the bow, and lean back with +your head against my knees." + +This also, she did. + +"This is much nicer," she whispered, nestling her head comfortably +against him. "So much nicer." + +By leaning over until his back nearly cracked he was able to find +her lips in the darkness. + +"I was thinking of the brush that overhangs the stream," he +explained when he had straightened himself. "Sitting up as you +were it might have caused you hurt." + +There was a little silence between them, in which his paddle +caught again its slow and steady rhythm. Then, + +"Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger--and of the hurt it +might cause me?" + +"Yes, only of that," and he chuckled softly. + +"Then I don't think it nice here at all," she complained. "I shall +sit up straight so the brush may put my eyes out!" + +But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to +interrupt his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant +with her hand. + +"It's there," she purled, as if utterly comforted. "I wanted to be +sure--it is so dark!" + +With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic +tunnel ahead, they were happy. Staring straight before him, though +utterly unable to see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and +in every breath he drew the exquisite thrill of a miracle. And the +same thrill swept into him and through him from the softly +breathing body of Nada. Light or darkness made no difference now. +Together, inseparable from this time forth, they had started on +the one great adventure of their lives, and for them fear had +ceased to exist. The night sheltered them. Its very blackness held +in its embrace a warmth of welcome and of unending hope. Twice in +the next half hour he put his hand to Nada's face, and each time +she pressed her lips against it, sweet with that confidence which +so completely possessed her soul. + +Very slowly they moved through the swamp, for because of the gloom +his paddle-strokes were exceedingly short, and he was feeling his +way. Frequently he ran into brush, or struck the boggy shore, and +occasionally Nada would hold lighted matches while he extricated +the canoe from tree-tops and driftwood that impeded the way. He +loved the brief glimpses he caught of her face in the match-glow, +and twice he deliberately wasted the tiny flares that he might +hold the vision of her a little longer. + +At last he began to feel the pulse of a current against his +paddle, and soon after that the star-mist began filtering through +the thinning tree-tops again, so that he knew they were almost +through the swamp. Another half-hour and they were free of it, +with a clear sky overhead and the cheering song of running water +on both sides of them. + +Nada sat up, and it was now so light that he could see the soft +shimmer of her hair in the starlight. He also saw a pretty little +grimace in her face, even as she smiled at him. + +"I--I can't move," she exclaimed. "UGH! my feet are asleep--" + +"We'll go ashore and stretch ourselves," said McKay, who had +looked at his watch in the light of the last match. "We've two +hours the start of Breault, and there is no other canoe." + +He began watching the shore closely, and it was not long before he +made out the white smoothness of a sandbar on their right. Here +they landed and for half an hour rested their cramped limbs. + +Then they went on, and in his heart McKay blessed the deep swamp +that lay between them and Breault. + +"I don't think he can make it without a canoe, even if he guesses +we went this way," he explained to Nada. "And that means--we are +safe." + +There was a cheery ring in his voice which would have changed to +the deadness of cold iron could he have looked back into that +sluggish pit of the Burntwood through which they had come, or +could he have seen into the heart of the still blacker swamp. + +For through the swamp, feeling his way in the black abysses and +amid the monster-ghosts of darkness, came Peter. + +And down the Burntwood, between the boggy mucklips of the swamp, a +man followed with slow but deadly surety, guiding with a long pole +two light cedar timbers which he had lashed together with wire, +and which bore him safely and in triumph where the canoe had gone +before him. + +This man was Breault, the man-hunter. + +"The swamp will hold him!" McKay was saying again, exultantly. +"Even if he guesses our way, the swamp will hold him back, Nada." + +"But he won't know the way we have come," cried Nada, the faith in +her voice answering his own. "Father John will guide him in +another direction." + +Back in the pit-gloom, with a grim smile now and then relaxing the +tight-set compression of his thin lips, and with eyes that stared +like a night-owl's into the gloom ahead of him, Breault poled +steadily on. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Dripping from the bog-holes and lathered with mud, it was the +mystery of Breault's noiseless presence somewhere near him in the +still night that drew Peter continually deeper into the swamp. + +Half a dozen times he caught the scent of him in a quiet air that +seemed only now and then to rise up in his face softly, as if +stirred by butterflies' wings. Always it came from ahead, and +Peter's mind worked swiftly to the decision that where Breault was +there also would be Nada and Jolly Roger. Yet he caught the scent +of neither of these two, and that puzzled him. + +Many times he found himself at the edge of the black lip of water, +but never quite at the right time to see a shadow in its darkness, +or hear the sound of Breault's pole. + +But in the swamp, as he went on, he saw nothing but shadow, and +heard weird and nameless sounds which made his blood creep, even +though his courage was now full-grown within him. + +He was not frightened at the ugly sputter of the owls, as in the +days of old. Their throaty menace and snapping beaks did not stop +him nor turn him aside. The slashing scrape of claws in the bark +of trees and the occasional crackling of brush were matters of +intimate knowledge, and he gave but little attention to them in +his eagerness to reach those who had gone ahead of him. What +troubled him, and filled his eyes with sudden red glares, were the +oily gurgles of the pitfalls which tried to suck him down; the +laughing madness of muck that held him as if living things were in +it, and which spluttered and coughed when he freed himself. + +Half blinded at times, so that even the black shadows were blotted +out, he went on. And at last, coming again to the edge of the +stream, he heard a new kind of sound--the slow, steady dipping of +Breault's pole. + +He hurried on, finding harder ground under his feet, and came +noiselessly abreast of the man on his raft of cedar timbers. He +could almost hear his breathing. And very faintly he could see in +the vast gloom a shadow--a shadow that moved slowly against the +background of a still deeper shadow beyond. + +But there was no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and whatever desire +had risen in him to make himself known was smothered by caution +and suspicion. After this he did not go ahead of Breault, but kept +behind him or abreast of him, within sound of the dipping pole. +And every minute his heart thumped expectantly, and he sniffed the +new air for signs of those he most desired to find. + +Dawn was breaking in the sky when they came out of the swamp, and +the first flush of the sun was lighting up the east when Breault +headed his improvised craft for the sandbar upon which Nada and +McKay had rested many hours before. + +Breault was tired, but his eyes lighted up when he saw the +footprints in the sand, and he chuckled--almost good humoredly. As +a matter of fact he was in a good humor. But one would not have +reckoned it as such in Breault. A hard man, the forests called +him; a man with the hunting instincts of the fox and the wolf and +the merciless persistency of the weazel--a man who lived his code +to the last letter of the law, without pity and without +favoritism. At least so he was judged, and his hard, narrow eyes, +his thin lips and his cynically lined face seldom betrayed the +better thoughts within him, if he possessed any at all. In the +Service he was regarded as a humanly perfect mechanism, a bit of +machinery that never failed, the dreaded Nemesis to be set on the +trail of a wrong-doer when all others had failed. + +But this morning, with every bone and muscle in him aching from +his long night of tedious exertion, the chuckle grew into a laugh +as he looked upon the telltale signs in the sand. + +He stretched himself and his tired bones cracked. + +Breault did not think aloud. But he was saying to himself. + +"There, against that rock, Jolly Roger McKay sat There is the +imprint of only one person sitting. The girl was in his arms. Here +are little holes where her outstretched heels rested in the sand. +She is wearing shoes and not moccasins." + +He grinned as he drew his service pack from the two-log cedar +raft. + +"Plenty of time now," he continued to think. "They are mine this +time--sure. They believe they have fooled me, and they haven't. +That's fatal. Always." + +Not infrequently, when entirely alone, Breault let a little part +of himself loose, as if freeing a prisoner from bondage for a +short time. For instance, he whistled. It was not an unpleasant +whistle, but rather oddly reminiscent of tender things he +remembered away back somewhere; and as he fried his bacon and +steamed a handful of desiccated potatoes he hummed a song, also +rather pleasant to ears that were as closely attentive as Peter's. + +For Peter had crept up through a tangle of ground-scrub and lay +not twenty paces away, smelling of the bacon hungrily, and +watching intently from his concealment. + +Peter knew the fox and the wolf, but he did not know Breault, and +he did not guess why the man's whistling grew a little louder, nor +why his humming voice grew stronger. But after a time, with his +back and not his face toward Peter, Breault called in the most +natural and matter-of-fact voice in the world, + +"Come on, Peter. Breakfast is ready!" + +Peter's jaws dropped in amazement. And as Breault turned toward +him, his thin face a-grin, and continued to invite him in a most +companionable way, he forgot his concealment entirely and stood up +straight, ready either to fight or fly. + +Breault tossed him a dripping slice of bacon which he held in his +hand. It fell within a foot of Peter's nose, and Peter was +ravenously hungry. The delicious odor of it demoralized his senses +and his caution. For a few seconds he resisted, then thrust +himself out toward it an inch at a time, made a sudden grab, and +swallowed it at one gulp + +Breault laughed outright, and with the first of the sun striking +into his face he did not look like an enemy to Peter. + +A second slice of bacon followed the first, and then a third-- +until Breault was frying another mess over the fire. + +"That's partial payment for what you did up on the Barren," he was +saying inside himself. "If it hadn't been for you--" + +He didn't even imagine the rest. Nor after that did he pay the +slightest attention to Peter. For Breault knew dogs possibly even +better than he knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give +Peter to understand that he was interested in him at all. He +washed his dishes, whistling and humming, reloaded his pack on the +raft, and once more began poling his way downstream. + +Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but +felt a further sense of abandonment. After all, this man was not +his enemy, and he was leaving him as his master and mistress had +left him. He whined. And Breault was not out of sight when he +trotted down to the sandbar, and quickly found the scent of Nada +and McKay. Purposely Breault had left a lump of desiccated potato +as big as his fist, and this Peter ate as ravenously as he had +eaten the bacon. Then, just as Breault knew he would do, he began +following the raft. + +Breault did not hurry, and he did not rest. There was something +almost mechanically certain in his slow but steady progress, +though he knew it was possible for the canoe to outdistance him +three to one. He was missing nothing along the shore. Three times +during the forenoon he saw where the canoe had landed, and he +chuckled each time, thinking of the old story of the tortoise and +the hare. He stopped for not more than two or three minutes at +each of these places, and was then on his way again. + +Peter was fascinated by the unexcited persistency of the man's +movement. He followed it, watched it, and became more and more +interested in the unvarying monotony of it. There were the same +up-and-down strokes of the long pole, the slight swaying of the +upstanding body, the same eddy behind the cedar logs--and +occasionally wisps of smoke floating behind when the pursuer +smoked his pipe. Not once did Peter see Breault turn his head to +look behind him. Yet Breault was seeing everything. Five times +that morning he saw Peter, but not once did he make a sign or call +to him. + +He drove his raft ashore at twelve o'clock to prepare his dinner, +and after he had built a fire, and his cooking things were +scattered about, he straightened himself up and called in that +same matter-of-fact way, as if expecting an immediate response, + +"Here, Peter!--Peter!--Come in, Boy!" + +And Peter came. Fighting against the last instinct that held him +back he first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at +Breault. Breault paid no attention to him for a few moments, but +sliced his bacon. When the perfume of the cooking meat reached +Peter's nose he edged himself a little nearer, and with a +whimpering sigh flattened himself on his belly. + +Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, + +"Hungry again, Peter?" he inquired casually. + +He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over +from breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the +strips to Peter. As he did this he was thinking to himself, + +"Why am I doing this? I don't want the dog. He will be a nuisance. +He will eat my grub. But it's fair. I'm paying a debt. He helped +to save me up on the Barren." + +Thus did Breault, the man without mercy, the Nemesis, briefly +analyze the matter. And he cooked five pieces of bacon for Peter. + +During the rest of that day Peter made no effort to keep himself +in concealment as he followed Breault and his raft. This afternoon +Breault shot a fawn, and when he made camp that night both he and +Peter feasted on fresh meat. This broke down the last of Peter's +suspicion, and Breault laid a hand on his head. He did not +particularly like the feel of the hand, but he tolerated it, and +Breault grunted aloud, with a note of commendation in his hard +voice. + +"A one-man dog--never anything else." + +Half a dozen times during the day Peter had found the scent of +Nada and Roger where they had come ashore, and from this night on +he associated Breault as a necessary agent in his search for them. +And with Breault he went, instinctively guessing the truth. + +The next day they found where Nada and McKay had abandoned the +canoe, and had struck south through the wilderness. This pleased +Breault, who was tired of his poling. This third night there was a +new moon, and something about it stirred in Peter an impulse to +run ahead and overtake those he was seeking. But a still strong +instinct held him to Breault. + +Tonight Breault slept like a dead man on his cedar boughs. He was +up and had a fire built an hour before dawn, and with the first +gray streaking of day was on the trail again. He made no further +effort to follow signs of the pursued, for that was a hopeless +task. But he knew how McKay was heading, and he traveled swiftly, +figuring to cover twice the distance that Nada might travel in the +same given time. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when he +came to a great ridge, and on its highest pinnacle he stopped. + +Peter had grown restless again, and a little more suspicious of +Breault. He was not afraid of him, but all that day he had found +no scent of Nada or Jolly Roger, and slowly the conviction was +impinging itself upon him that he should seek for himself in the +wilderness. + +Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. + +"I'll keep my eye on the dog," he thought. "He has a nose, and an +uncanny sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. +I believe McKay and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they +have traveled more slowly than I thought, and haven't passed this +ridge; or it may be they are down there, in the plain. If so I +should catch sign of smoke or fire--in time." + +For an hour he kept watch over the plain through his binoculars, +seeking for a wisp of smoke that might rise at any time over the +treetops. He did not lose sight of Peter, questing out in widening +circles below him. And then, quite unexpectedly, something +happened. In the edge of a tiny meadow an eighth of a mile away +Peter was acting strangely. He was nosing the ground, gulping the +wind, twisting eagerly back and forth. Then he set out, steadily +and with unmistakable decision, south and west. + +In a flash Breault was on his feet, had caught up his pack, and +was running for the meadow. And there he found something in the +velvety softness of the earth which brought a grim smile to his +thin lips as he, too, set out south and west. + +The scent he had found, hours old, drew Peter on until in the edge +of the dusk of evening it brought him to a foot-worn trail leading +to the Hudson's Bay Company post many miles south. In this path, +beaten by the feet of generations of forest dwellers, the hard +heels of McKay's boots had made their imprint, and after this the +scent was clearer under Peter's nose. But with forest-bred caution +he still traveled slowly, though his blood was burning like a +pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost as swiftly followed Breault +behind him. + +Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, +lighting his way between the two walls of the forest + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran +under deep forests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch +of the Nelson River flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to +meet the promise of day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, +stirring sleepily to the pulse of an awakening earth. Through it +came the first low twitter of birdsong, a sound that seemed to +swell and grow until it filled the world. Yet was it still a sound +of sleep, of half wakefulness, and the mist was thinning away +when, a ruffled little breast sent out its full throat-song from +the tip of a silver birch that overhung the stream. + +The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was +no stir of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there +had been much to wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. +But the girl was no longer there to sing back at him. The cedar +and balsam shelter dripped with morning dew, the place where fire +had been was black and dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler +continued his song in triumph. + +Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard +him. She lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, +and the birdsong seemed to come to her from a great distance away. +She smiled, and her lips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was +about to answer it. And then the song drifted away until she could +no longer hear it, and she sank back into an oblivion of darkness +in which she seemed lost for a long time, and out of which some +invisible force was struggling to drag her. + +There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and +she opened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of +Jolly Roger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he +was not looking at her. It must be late, she thought, for the +light was strong in his face, warm with the first golden flow of +the sun. She smiled, and sat up, and shook her soft curls with a +happy little laugh. + +"Roger--" + +And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she +saw Peter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew +her breath short and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through +her heart. + +Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in +from the timber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying +them with an odd smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this +man was Breault. + +There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat +there, in spite of the fact that for a few moments he neither +spoke nor moved. His eyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, +and his lips were like the blades of two knives set together. Yet +he was smiling, or half smiling, not in a comforting or humorous +way, but with exultation and triumph. From looking at him one +would never have guessed that Breault loved his joke. + +He nodded. + +"Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And--good morning, Mrs. Jolly +Roger McKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is +duty. I am Breault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." + +McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin face +widened. + +"I know, it's hard," he said. "But you've got Peter to thank for +it. Peter led me to you." + +He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with +his automatic. + +"Would you mind stepping out, McKay?" he asked. + +In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, +and Nada rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands. + +"No need of those things, Breault," he said. "I'll go peaceably." + +"Still--it's safer," argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. +"Hold out one hand, please--" + +The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. + +"I'm Breault--not Terence Cassidy," he chuckled. "Never take a +chance, you know. Never!" + +Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet +snapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a +grin. + +"Got you both now, haven't I?" he gloated. "Can't get away, can +you?" He put his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. "How do you like +married life, Mrs. Jolly Roger?" + +McKay's face was whiter than Nada's. + +"You coward!" he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "You low-down +miserable coward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean +you are going to keep my wife ironed like this?" + +"Sure," said Breault. "I'm going to make you pay for some of the +trouble I've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, +you know. And a woman, too. And probably you've lied to her like +the very devil." + +"He hasn't!" protested Nada fiercely. "You're a--a--" + +"Say it," nodded Breault good humoredly. "By all means say it, +Mrs. Jolly Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you," and +while he waited he loaded his pipe and lighted it. + +"You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with good +friends like you," he apologized cynically. "In other words you're +a couple of hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of +evidence about you. He says that you, McKay, should be hung the +moment we catch you. He warned me not to take a chance--that you'd +slit my throat in the dark without a prick of conscience. And I'm +a valuable man in the Service. It can't afford to lose me." + +McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer. + +"Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things," +Breault went on. "And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we +can have breakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He +saved us up on the Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about +that?" + +He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of +birchbark which he had already placed under dry cedar wood which +McKay had gathered the preceding evening. + +"That's where MY trouble began--up there on the Barren, Mrs. Jolly +Roger," he continued, ignoring McKay. "You see the three of us, +Superintendent Tavish, and Porter--who is now his son-in-law--and +I had a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever +in the history of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of +a husband of yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's +only a dog. But McKay is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful +opportunity of dying in an unusual way by hunting us up and +dragging us into his shelter. A shabby trick, don't you think? And +inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish is about the biggest man in the +Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, and Miss Tavish was saved +along with us--why, they reckoned something ought to be done about +it." + +Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel +to the fire. + +"And so--" + +He rose and stood before them again. + +"And so--they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running +you down with a pardon, McKay--a pardon forgiving you for all your +sins, forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!" + +He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, +and held it out now--not to McKay--but to Nada. + +Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile +still on his lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold +sort of laughter, it was as if Breault tortured them with a last +horrible joke. Then, suddenly, Nada seized the envelope and tore +it open, while McKay stared at Breault, believing, and yet not +daring to speak. + +It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with +gladness, that told him the truth, and with the precious paper +clutched in her hand she smothered her face against McKay's +breast, while Breault came up grinning behind them, and Jolly +Roger heard the click of his key in the handcuffs. + +"I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you," +he said, attending to the fire again. "For instance, that red- +headed good-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building +a four-room bungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will +be finished by the time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow +Bird, and a redskin who calls himself Slim Buck, sent word that +you will always be welcome in their hunting grounds. And a pretty +little thing named Sun Cloud sent as many kisses as there are +leaves on the trees--" + +He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, +glorious eyes of the girl upon him. + +"But the funniest thing of all is the baby," he went on, preparing +to slice bacon. "They're going to have one pretty soon--Cassidy's +wife, I mean. They've given it a name already. If it's a boy it's +Roger--if it's a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. +Silly bunch, aren't they? A couple of young fools--" + +Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life +of Frangois Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in +a pair of arms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and +pitiless mouth a pair of soft red lips pressed for a single +thrilling instant. "Well, I'll be damned," he gasped, dropping his +bacon and staggering to his feet like a man who had been shot. +"I'll be--CUSSED!" + +And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young +spruce at the edge of the timber, without saying another word or +once looking behind him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly +Roger and Peter waited, but Frangois Breault did not return. For a +strange and unaccountable man was he, a hard and pitiless man and +a deadly hunter who knew no fear. Yet the wilderness swallowed +him, a coward at last--running away from the two red lips that had +kissed him. + +So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of +mercy; and at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew +that something glad had happened, and offered up its gratitude in +a sudden burst of song. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Country Beyond, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT THE COUNTRY BEYOND *** + +This file should be named cntbd10.txt or cntbd10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, cntbd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cntbd10a.txt + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Dianne Bean, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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