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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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